by Diana Palmer
News vids were, of course, prohibited, because the Cehn-Tahr did not allow sensor nets in christening ceremonies. But family was allowed, and so were Lawson and Lokar. Old Mardol, who’d loaned them the weapon on Benaski Port, was given the position of godfather, which was a shock and a delight to him, especially when he finally knew the identity of the odd trio who had borrowed his sniper kit. Hazheen Kamon of Dacerius was given a similar role. There was an oddly dressed person who also became the child’s godfather, but he was unrecognizable in the garments he wore. Someone whispered that he looked quite like a certain Rojok military leader. But he whispered it only within the family.
As Dtimun stepped down from command of the Holconcom, to take up his duties as heir apparent, Rhemun became the new Holconcom commander. Lieutenant Edris Mallory took Madeline’s place as Cularian medical specialist. There were rumors that the two of them were already setting new records for time spent arguing, surpassing even Dtimun and Madeline.
But these things were of little interest to the new parents, sitting on the balcony some time later with their firstborn in Madeline’s arms as the two moons of Memcache rose beautiful and haunting in the night sky.
Madeline kissed her son on the brow. “How many parents ever get to know their grown child before he’s even born?” she mused, and laughed as she looked at Komak. “Just think, he and I trashed bars together! And I never even suspected.”
“Yes, you did,” Dtimun chuckled. “So did I. But they were only suspicions. I was quite proud of Komak,” he added gently. “I never told him.”
“He knew, all the same.” She looked up at him with wonder. “I still can hardly believe any of this is real. It seemed so impossible just a little space of time ago that we could ever bond at all.”
He smiled and touched her long, red-gold hair. “I, too, never imagined this result. We have come quite a long way together since we united two warring military factions at Ahkmau and became the Morcai Battalion.”
“And we still have at least a century to go, if everything goes as Komak thought it would.”
“A century or more.” He rubbed his cheek against hers.
She sighed and smiled at her mate and then at her child. “I had Edris make a vid of Rognan and Kanthor, for Komak, when he’s old enough to understand how difficult it was for them to get along at all while he was on the way.” She laughed at his expression. “I did explain why ancient humans boiled water and hit the baby on the bottom.”
He chuckled. “They will make fine playmates for him, when he begins to walk.” He glanced at her and smiled. “That will happen sooner than you imagine. Our children mature quickly.”
“I’ve read about it. About a lot of things. I like your culture very much.”
“I hoped you might,” he said. “It will be a great change from military life, for you.”
“Yes. But a good one.”
He got to his feet and moved to the wide stone rail. “Revolution is afoot on Enmehkmehk,” he said. “I think Chan Ho has very little time left to command the Rojok empire.”
“I think the same.”
He turned and looked at her. “The war must end soon, so that one of Komak’s godfathers can step on Memcache without risking arrest and execution. My sister will rejoice on that day.”
She smiled. She and Lyceria had grown close. “I’ll rejoice for her, as well. Old Mardol looked as if he’d won a lottery,” she added gleefully. “We owe him our lives. I’m glad he’s happy here.”
“He has a good heart. His stories will amuse Komak when he is old enough to hear them.”
“He made vids of us, he said. Komak, I mean.”
“I am certain that he picked the most embarrassing situations to record,” he murmured with a grimace.
“It would be like him,” she agreed.
“Are you coming inside now?” Sfilla called from the doorway. “The emperor and empress and Princess Lyceria are coming to eat with us.”
“I forgot. Sorry.” Madeline got up with Komak tight in her arms and walked beside Dtimun back into the house.
He let her go in first.
“I do outrank you now, don’t I?” she teased. “You’re standing aside for me.”
He leaned down. “I outrank you,” he argued. “But I give you precedence because you are carrying the heir to the throne in your arms.”
“You wait,” she challenged. “I’ll have the best crack troop of women in the three galaxies, and they’ll sing songs about me.”
He chuckled. “The kehmatemer already do,” he reminded her. “The Warwoman. Invincible.”
She thought of the Latin for that word and smiled absently. Invictus. One word to describe an attitude, a credo, a pattern for living. One word to envelop all that her life had been and would be.
She pursed her lips in thought. “Invictus,” she mused.
He didn’t need a translation. He saw it all in her mind, like a music painting in cyberspace, such as the Cehn-Tahr designed at Kolmankash.
He studied her with quiet pride. “It is quite suitable, for such a mutinous human female,” he added softly.
“At least I’ve stopped saluting you and calling you ‘sir,’” she reminded him. And he chuckled when she gave him a wicked grin.
* * *
WITHIN THE YEAR, there were great changes in the three galaxies. Terravega had a new president, one Harmon Chakra, who swept to victory on a program of reform. The military’s mental neutering policy went out the window, along with its regulations on fraternization. The government baby factories became a thing of the past. Couples of all three genders were permitted to marry and breed as they pleased. Clones were admitted to the republic as citizens and their exploitation for organ replacement was to cease. The totalitarian regimentation also ceased. All charges against the Terravegans of the Morcai Battalion were dropped and the humans were offered citizenship again.
To a man, or woman if Lieutenant Commander Edris Mallory were to be counted, they refused. Their Cehn-Tahr citizenship had become a thing of great pride, and none of the crew wished to return to Terravega. At least, as Holt Stern whispered amusedly, not until they were certain that the new rules of law were going to last longer than a few standard weeks. Stern and Hahnson, who were both clones of their originals, had a great deal more to lose than the rest of the crew if they returned to Trimerius and the clone restrictions were reinstituted. It was a new start for humanity. But most new things had growing pains. The Morcai Battalion’s human faction decided to play a waiting game.
Meanwhile, Captain Rhemun was making a slow start as commander of the Morcai Battalion. He and the crew were on shaky ground. He had little to do with humans until Madeline Ruszel came along, and his prejudices against them were deep and of long duration. Lieutenant Commander Edris Mallory was having more problems with him than the rest of the crew put together. Her clumsiness and slow reactions were getting her reprimands. Even with the changes in military governance, one law was still on the books—that of three strikes and reboot. Only intimate members of the medical corps knew what that meant. It was one of the best kept military secrets, to which even the new president of Terravega was not privy. Even with their Cehn-Tahr citizenship, Edris could fall victim to Terravegan military law if the Holconcom renewed their association with the Tri-Galaxy Fleet, which was rumored to be in the offing as territorial disputes escalated in the New Territory. Dr. Strick Hahnson knew Mallory’s situation, but he was reluctant to share details of it with Rhemun, who was becoming her worst enemy.
The war was beginning to wind down. A revolution had taken place on Enmehkmehk, which left Chan Ho in exile and Chacon as new party chairman and leader of the Rojok empire. It was now called the Rojok Republic, however, and rumors were flying of a liaison of some sort with the Cehn-Tahr Empire, which would result in peace.
Madeline Rus
zel took all this news in her customary calm manner, smiling with each new tidbit of change and nodding complacently. She knew, as many of her confidants did not, that peace was not only a possibility, it was a certainty.
She sat down in a chair with Komak in her arms and looked down into his wide, intelligent little face. “One day in the not too distant future, I’ll tell you all about how you and Mommy wrecked bars and defended the honor of the Holconcom,” she whispered wickedly.
“Shame, telling the boy such stories,” Dtimun scoffed as he joined her. But his eyes were green, and laughing.
“I’m preparing him so he won’t be shocked when the time comes,” she chuckled. She looked up at him with wide, soft eyes. “What a long way we’ve come from Terramer.”
He nodded. He reached down and smoothed the already thick black hair on his son’s head. “It has been a journey with many surprises.”
“Is Chacon making the announcement soon?” she asked.
He smiled. “Tomorrow.”
“There will be shock and awe in the governments of the Tri-Galaxy Council,” she predicted.
“Especially when he announces the candidacy of the Rojok Republic to become a member.”
“I hope they have medical personnel standing by to administer stimulants,” she said.
He dropped down elegantly into a chair across from her. “The emperor has a gift.”
“For me?”
He nodded. “They are recruiting for the first corps of female military candidates. You yourself will choose those who gain membership to the elite group.”
She caught her breath. “How kind of him!”
“He is quite fond of you.”
She smiled, happy in her new relations. And her mate. She looked down at the baby. “Did you hear that? Mommy is a brigadier general. She’s going to lead armies one day.”
Dtimun was recalling what Komak had told him about the future—that Madeline led a division of female troops and sneaked out to go on missions with them when she was much older. He chuckled.
“Why are you laughing?” she wondered.
“A stray thought. And no, I will not share it. Not yet.” He got up, bent and kissed them both. “I must attend yet another planning session for the upcoming nuptials. At least two members of our household will faint when they learn that the Cehn-Tahr princess is to wed a Rojok general.”
“Premier of the Rojok Republic,” she corrected.
He shrugged. He grinned. “It will be a pleasure not to have to scramble and vent every message I exchange with him.”
“I’m sure Lyceria feels the same way.”
“Changes. So many changes,” he mused. “And at the center of them, a redheaded physician with a hot temper and a wicked sense of humor. I would never have expected such a catalyst.”
“I would never have expected it, either. Or an end to the war.” She frowned. “How will we learn to live in a peaceful universe?” she wondered aloud.
“There will always be wars,” he said complacently. “But small ones, I hope, after this.”
She nodded. She smiled up at him warmly. “Caneese and I have a new project. We’re using a derivative of the secretion the Nagaashe contributed to study its effect on time dilation theory in her Coswerp Chamber. Acceleration of biological cells in magnetic suspension with emerillium bursts to displace time.”
He didn’t say it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that this research would one day lead to Komak’s ability to jump through dimensions and timelines, as the Nagaashe and the galots were able to.
“An interesting hypothesis.”
“It is, isn’t it? Basically it would cause time to distort and shift, rather than requiring the person affected to do the shifting.” She frowned. “Caneese is brilliant.”
“She is, but your liaison with the Nagaashe has provided the element that was missing from her experiments.”
“The gland that has tissue no biochemist can replicate,” she agreed.
A chime sounded. He glanced at his communicator ring. “A signal that I am expected, and late.”
“Do you miss leading the Holconcom?” she asked abruptly, and seemed to hang on his answer.
He smoothed back her hair. “We are still on active duty. In the future it is quite possible that we may be in the vanguard of some new offensive against a new enemy,” he told her.
“When the children grow up,” she agreed.
He bent and smoothed his cheek against hers. “In the meanwhile,” he murmured, “it might be as well to keep up your martial arts practice.” He hesitated. “Not with Flannegan,” he added coldly.
She was amused. Flannegan had actually dropped in to congratulate them on the birth of their son, from a cautious distance. Dtimun’s reaction had been quite noticeable and Flannegan had not stayed long.
“Or with Rhemun,” he added, and the sound was like a growl.
“I’ll do my sparring with you,” she promised.
He shifted uncomfortably. “This behavior should have abated after the bonding ceremony,” he said.
“No need to apologize,” she assured him with twinkling eyes. “If you recall, I made a rather testy comment to that Cehn-Tahr aristocrat who was a little too flirtatious with you at the christening.”
It had flattered him that Madeline did not like other females touching him.
“Perhaps we should both learn to be less possessive of each other,” he commented.
She looked at him, pursed her lips. Then she said, “Noooo. I don’t think so.”
And he burst out laughing.
“I have something for you.”
“For me? What is it?”
He drew a small package from under his robes and handed it to her. He held Komak while she unwrapped the gift, delicately pulling apart the handmade cellulose paper and matching ribbon to disclose a...
“It’s a book!” she exclaimed. She was fascinated. She’d never seen a book made of real cellulose and printed with ancient human language. She could read it, after a fashion, although it was slow going at first. “Why, it’s a poem!”
“Yes. We discussed the term ‘Invictus’ and I remembered seeing this on a nexus site. I sent for a copy of it. It is a text of a poem from ancient Earth which survived many catastrophes.” The poem was written by a human from Great Britain, William Ernest Henley.
She opened the pages with careful hands and looked at the words. “...my head is bloody but unbowed...” she read. She glanced up at him with frank wonder. “I’ve never touched a real book before.”
He smiled. “I thought you might enjoy it.”
“I’ll pass it down to Komak and teach it to him. Do the Cehn-Tahr write poetry?”
“Yes, we have poets, too. You will find many digital volumes in the library.”
She gave him a droll look. “It was nice of you to finally put back the vids of newborn Cehn-Tahr children so that I could see what they looked like.”
He grinned. “You did not know what I looked like at the time. I had no wish to frighten you,” he said as he laid the baby gently in her arms.
“I don’t recall ever wearing a short skirt and running away screaming from a space monster,” she pointed out.
“I would pity the space monster,” he teased. “It is he who would run away screaming.”
“You got that right,” she asserted. She looked down at the small, precious book, shifting her son so that he lay in the crook of her arm. “Thank you.”
“You are quite welcome. And please refrain from educating our son about future bar brawls in which he will participate,” he added firmly.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Don’t start, or I’ll salute you at the next ceremonial function,” she threatened.
He shook his head, sighed, and walked out
with regal grace. But he was smiling.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE MORCAI BATTALION by Diana Palmer.
If you loved The Morcai Battalion: Invictus, don’t miss the first two installments in Diana Palmer’s thrilling and epic The Morcai Battalion space series!
The Morcai Battalion
The Morcai Battalion: The Recruit
“A high-octane and gritty space adventure.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Morcai Battalion
“Fans of stark outer space military science fiction
will appreciate this sobering at-war thriller.”
—The Best Reviews on The Morcai Battalion
Don’t forget these other thrilling tales from New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer!
Dangerous
Merciless
Courageous
Protector
Lawless
Invincible
Untamed
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The Morcai Battalion
by Diana Palmer
Chapter 1
Children were crying all around the chief exobiologist of the SSC starship Bellatrix and the woman in her green Terravegan uniform wanted to cry with them. In ten years with the Tri-Fleet’s Strategic Space Command, Lieutenant Commander Madeline Ruszel had never seen such wanton slaughter.
Terramer had been a trial peace colony in the New Territory of the galaxy, populated by clones of races representing one hundred twenty federated planets. A Rojok squadron had managed to reduce it to a smoldering ball of dust in a matter of minutes. An unprovoked attack against a defenseless continent of colonists. A dream of peace gone black in the sleep of treachery. She glared at the turmoil around her. The legendary code of ethics of the Rojok field marshal, Chacon, had gone up in smoke, along with ten million colonists.