CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS THE most boring voyage of Mekashe’s recent life. He’d been sent to represent the Cehn-Tahr government at a meeting of security experts who dealt with the safety of heads of state. Since Mekashe was captain of the Cehn-Tahr emperor Tnurat Alamantimichar’s Imperial Guard, he was the obvious person to attend.
But he was used to military routine, and this was far from that. It was an A-class cruise vessel, intended for use by the general public. Because it was more expensive than most transports, the people aboard tended to be from the highest level of their respective societies. It wasn’t commonly known, but Mekashe was a royal, a great-nephew of old Tnurat. His relationship to the emperor was why he was given the position of Imperial Guard Captain. Clan status denoted position. So when his best friend, Rhemun, followed Dtimun as the commander of the Holconcom, Mekashe was given Rhemun’s former position as captain of the guard. Clan status was the most important facet of the Cehn-Tahr’s rigid class culture.
Despite the relaxed atmosphere of the ship, which was uncomfortable, Mekashe did enjoy the observation deck. He could look out and see comets and meteors and distant stars as the huge vessel plowed its way through space. It was a novelty in his life, because the Imperial Guard was composed mostly of ground troops, elite infantry. The Holconcom, captained by his best friend, Rhemun, was more like space cavalry. The Holconcom was the most feared fighting force in the three galaxies, a specialized commando battalion on the flagship Morcai with both human and Cehn-Tahr personnel in an almost-equal mixture. Rhemun was bonded to the Morcai’s former Cularian medical specialist, Dr. Edris Mallory, and they had a son, Kipling. The boy was almost as talented with the Kahn-Bo fighting style as Mekashe, and he outclassed his father, Rhemun. He was so good that Mekashe—fleet champion in Kahn-Bo—had to work very hard to best him.
He thought about families. He had been mildly infatuated with Edris Mallory and spent much time talking to her, learning about human culture. Rhemun had been jealous. That was in the time before, when Rhemun was forced by Clan structure to take command of the Holconcom and captain the flagship Morcai. He had hated humans, and Dr. Mallory came in for a lot of harassment from him. That changed when she ran from a particularly painful argument and wound up at the lawless Benaski Port, hiding from everyone. She was attacked by a brothel owner while defending two little girls and left for dead. Rhemun had sent several members of his squad after the perpetrator, who was left in pieces. After that, he and Edris bonded. It had been a sad day in Mekashe’s life, because he adored the little blonde physician. But he was happy for his friend.
It was odd that he liked humans so much. In past times, Cehn-Tahr had been prejudiced toward outworlders. Ahkmau, the infamous Rojok prison camp, had changed all that. A combined crew of Cehn-Tahr and humans had been captured and held in the hellish concentration camp. Many had died regaining their freedom. It had drawn the two very different races close and led to the formation of the Morcai Battalion. The integrated group was a sentinel of racial tolerance in a sea of interstellar prejudice. It had done much to change attitudes in the three galaxies.
Now humans were family to the military Cehn-Tahr. Many of Mekashe’s comrades were as fascinated with the species as he was himself.
Mekashe had dreamed for most of his life about a blonde human female with exquisite features. But unlike Edris Mallory, who was short and delicate, Mekashe’s dream female was tall and willowy, and kindhearted. He had the gift of telepathy, which he shared only with the Royal Clan, of which he was part. Cehn-Tahr never publicized the ability among outworlders. In fact, they never spoke of their culture to anyone outside Memcache, the home planet of the Cehn-Tahr.
He wondered about the prophetic dream. Only Caneese, the bonded mate of the emperor, had such a great gift for seeing the future. It had not arisen in any other member of the Clan. But Mekashe often saw things before they happened. So the gift was at least present in him, if not as formidable as Caneese’s ability.
He was probably just dreaming, he thought, amused at his own weakness. His position gave him status among the Cehn-Tahr. Captain of the Imperial Guard was no small government job. It put him among planetal leaders, like Field Marshal Chacon, former field of the Rojok Army, who was now Premier of the Rojok Republic, having displaced the despot who had ruled after Mangus Lo. The depravity of the former Rojok government was something that Chacon was still having to live down. The death camp at Ahkmau had been hidden from everyone, even from Chacon, until he was forced to go there to save the Cehn-Tahr emperor’s daughter, Lyceria. In the course of that rescue, he had helped the humans and Cehn-Tahr of the Morcai Battalion to escape execution, as well. Now, in an irony of fate, Chacon was bonded to the emperor’s daughter. They were expecting their first child very soon. Gossip said that Chacon, that powerhouse of might, was pacing the floor and worrying himself to death, like any other prospective father. His passion for his mate had raised eyebrows, because Rojoks and Cehn-Tahr were traditional enemies. Now all sorts of new bonds were being formed. Homogenous cultures were becoming galactic ones, with the mixing. It produced some beautiful children. Kipling, Rhemun’s son, was one of those. He had long, curly blond hair—his father had long, curly black hair—and human features, but he had his father’s cat eyes that changed color with emotion. It was an exotic, fascinating blend of traits.
Mekashe would have liked a son, but he had found no Cehn-Tahr woman with whom he wanted to bond. The dreams of perfection, of that blonde phantom, haunted him. Probably, he reasoned, it was only a dream, and he would never meet...
“But I know it was this way!” a soft, feminine voice wailed, interrupting his thoughts. “I can’t believe this! Why isn’t there a map of the ship, or a holo, or anything...! Oh! Hello,” she said as she stopped just in front of Mekashe. “Sorry, I was just talking to myself. I do that, far too much. I’m lost. I’m lost! I was supposed to meet my father for dinner, and I can’t find him or the dining room or anything! I’m just hopeless!”
Mekashe’s eyes had turned from the solid blue of introspection to the soft, twinkling green of amusement as he listened to her. She was substance out of his dreams. He could hardly believe it. She was tall and willowy, with perfect, beautiful features. She had blue eyes and wavy blond hair pulled up into an elegant hairdo with glittering jewel accents. She was wearing blue—a pale, soft blue gown that left her arms and her nape bare, but covered her completely from neck to toe in front and draped in soft folds down to her jeweled high-heel shoes. She was the most magnificent creature he’d ever seen in his life.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted when he didn’t speak. She wondered if he spoke some other tongue than hers. Her high cheekbones colored red. “I apologize for...” she began loudly, as if he might be hard of hearing rather than raised in a separate language.
He held up a hand and smiled. “No apology is needed,” he said in a deep, soft tone, in unaccented Standard. “The ship is extremely large and there are no virtual hubs to help you find your way. Where do you want to go?”
She studied him with utter fascination. “Did your eyes just change color?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and unblinking on his golden-skinned face. He had eyes oddly like a cat. She was afraid of cats. But he was a man. He was a gorgeous man. She could overlook the eyes. They weren’t really catlike at all, she thought.
He chuckled, or what passed for one in a Cehn-Tahr. “Yes,” he said. “It is a characteristic of my race. The colors mirror moods.” This much he was allowed by custom to discuss. The color changes were well-known.
“What is green?” she asked, truly interested.
“Amusement,” he said softly.
“Oh!” She sighed. “I was afraid that I’d offended you!”
“If so, my eyes would be dark brown, not green,” he replied.
“Are you an alien?” she asked. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never been off Terravega until we boarded this vessel. I saw a blue man just now!”
“Altair,” he said. “Possibly Jebob. The eye colors are different, but they both come from the same ancestry.”
“That’s fascinating!”
So was she. He was entranced. She’d never been off-world. Never seen an alien. He’d been all over the three galaxies and had seen races that were even now almost unreal.
“Would you like me to escort you to the dining room?” he asked politely.
“That would be so kind of you!”
He managed a smile. It was foreign to his culture, but he studied human traits and often emulated them. It was a holdover from his infatuation with Edris Mallory.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said, and bowed slightly.
She caught her breath. He was gorgeous. She’d never seen anyone so handsome, alien or human.
Unknown to her, he read those thoughts with delight. The attraction was mutual, it seemed.
“Are you on holiday?” she asked as they walked past bulkheads that lined the outer structure of the spacegoing ship.
He chuckled. “I am returning to my home, after attending a conference. I would have taken a shorter route, but my...employer said that I needed the downtime. So it will be weeks before I reach my destination.”
She smiled. “Most people benefit from an occasional holiday. I know my poor father does. He was a college professor on Terravega—that’s where we’re from. He taught political science.”
“An interest of mine,” he replied.
She made a face. “I hate politics,” she murmured.
His dark eyebrows lifted in an almost-human manner. “What subject do you prefer?”
“Medicine!” she said enthusiastically. “I wanted so desperately to be a surgeon, but my mother, God rest her soul, was horrified, even though she was a physician from the time she was out of secondary school.”
“Why?” he asked gently.
“She said that I was far too innocent and sheltered for such a brutal profession.” She sighed. “Besides that, the only career path I could find led through the military. When I mentioned that, Daddy got involved, and he and my mother blindsided me.” She didn’t add that she despised the military, so she hadn’t fought them very hard.
He frowned. “Blindsided?”
“They joined forces to oppose me, before I knew what they were about,” she translated with a laugh like tinkling bells. “I suppose they were right. I’ve never seen alien planets before, or been in space. This is such an adventure!” She looked up at him with soft blue eyes. “Have you been in space before?”
He’d lived in it most of his life, but he hesitated to admit that. “Yes. A time or two,” he prevaricated.
She smiled. “I’d love to hear about it sometime.” She flushed and averted her eyes. “I mean, if you’d like to talk to me. I’m daffy. I drive Daddy nuts. Most people avoid me because they think I’m scattered.”
He stopped walking and just looked down at her. “These idioms.” He chuckled. “I must confess that I need a translator.” He said it softly, so that he didn’t offend her. “The humans I’ve known used very few.”
“I’m notorious for them, I’m afraid. What I mean is that I’m easily diverted and I don’t concentrate well. Daddy says it’s a sort of attention deficit disorder, but he doesn’t believe in drugs, so he refused to let them give me any to correct it.” She grimaced. “I suppose I sound like a lunatic...”
“I think you sound quite fascinating,” he said quietly, and his eyes began to take on a soft, light brown color.
“Your eyes changed color again,” she remarked, fascinated. “You aren’t angry?” she added worriedly, because he’d said that brown meant anger.
He chuckled, or what substituted for laughter in a Cehn-Tahr. “Yes. The colors can become confusing when several emotions are involved.” He nodded toward a door to avoid telling her that the soft brown meant affection. It was too soon for that. “I am not angry. The colors are more complicated than I can explain to you at the moment. The dining room is through here,” he said, diverting her.
“I forgot to tell you my name. I’m Jasmine. Jasmine Dupont. Our ancestry, they say, is French, from ancient Earth. It’s where all Terravegans come from.”
“I am called Mekashe.” He gave it the formal pronunciation.
“Mekashe.” She flushed a little as she said it, and smiled delightedly. She hesitated. “Would you like to meet Daddy?” she blurted out, and flushed again, a darker pink. “I mean, if you’d like to, if I’m not imposing...”
“I should like it very much. Jasmine.” He made her name sound exotic, foreign, thrilling.
She laughed. “Thank you...?” She hesitated, afraid that she was going to mess up the pronunciation.
“Mekashe,” he repeated slowly. He gave it the pronunciation that a stranger would use on Memcache, because names were pronounced in many different ways among the Cehn-Tahr, depending on length of relationship, Clan status, position and so forth.
“Mekashe.” She studied his strong, handsome face. “Do names have meanings among your people? I mean, my name is that of a flower on Terravega.”
Even more fascinating. She reminded him of a flower, delicate and beautiful. “They do,” he replied. “I was born on the day of a great battle, which ended well for my people. My name, among my own people, translates as ‘He of the warrior blood.’”
“Oh.” She hated the military, but she wouldn’t mention that, not when she found him so attractive. She laughed then, lightening his expression. “I love it!”
He cocked his head. He smiled. She entranced him.
They stood staring at each other until another passenger came barreling out the door and almost collided with them. Jasmine staggered, but he didn’t reach out to steady her. He ground his teeth together. If he touched her, even in an innocent way, it might trigger a mating behavior—especially considering the attraction he already felt. He saw her mild surprise at his lack of help, and he grimaced. He wasn’t even allowed to explain it to her. One didn’t elaborate on intimate customs among outworlders.
“There are reasons for my actions,” he said, compromising. “I wish I could explain. But I can’t.”
“You aren’t allowed to touch human females. Right?” she asked with certainty.
His eyebrows arched almost to his hairline.
She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Daddy says I’m always putting my foot into my mouth, figuratively speaking. I just plow right in, instead of thinking about what I’m saying. I sometimes offend people because I’m so impulsive.”
“I’m not offended,” he said gently, and smiled. “But I can’t confirm or deny your supposition.”
She laughed softly. Her blue eyes sparkled like jewels. “Okay.”
She turned, reluctantly, and led the way into the dining room.
It was vast and like a maze. There were booths, formal tables and a bar all sharing the same general open space. Jasmine’s father was seated at a formal, small table near the wall where the bubble port opened onto glorious space. A comet was passing by and her father had touched the viewscreen that doubled as a force shield, to magnify the comet in order to study it.
“He loves space,” she told Mekashe as they walked. “He wanted to be a starship commander, but his health was bad. Back when he was a child, genetic engineering was out of fashion, so he had a bad heart and poor eyesight. He still has both. I’m afraid he doesn’t move with the times at all. I do worry about him.”
Mekashe was even more curious now.
Malford Dupont was forty-two, thin and graying, with a receding hairline and a stubborn chin. He seemed fascinated with the comet and oblivious to the two people approaching his table.
“Daddy?” Jasmine called softly.
His head jerked toward her and he blinked. He laughed. “Sorry, I find the comet absolutely fascinating. This tech is beyond anything I’ve ever known,” he added, indicating the many functions of the screen that permitted magnification of space objects. His eyebrows lifted as he noted his daughter’s companion.
“I got lost, again.” Jasmine laughed. She looked up. “Mekashe helped me find my way here. Mekashe, this is my father, Dr. Malford Dupont.”
“Sir,” Mekashe said formally, and bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Jasmine’s father stood and bowed, as well. “And mine, to make yours. Mekashe. You’re Cehn-Tahr,” he added, as if fascinated.
Mekashe nodded, a very human mannerism.
“Of all the coincidences.” The other man chuckled. “In fact, Jasmine and I are en route to your home planet, Memcache. I was chosen to be the first human ambassador to the Cehn-Tahr.”
Mekashe smiled. “I knew of the emperor’s plan to allow such an embassy, but I had no knowledge of the person who would occupy the position. I am doubly honored to meet you. I hope that you and your daughter will be content on my planet.”
“It really is a coincidence.” Jasmine laughed, bubbling over with joy that her new friend lived on the very planet where her father would be stationed.
Mekashe smiled. “A delightful one.”
“Won’t you join us for dinner, young man?” the ambassador asked politely.
It was difficult to find a reason to refuse. He didn’t want to. But the Cehn-Tahr were not vegetarians, and they ate most of their meals in a form that would offend human sensitivities. “I would have enjoyed it, but I have a prior commitment. Perhaps another time? Since we all seem to be equally confined on this vessel for a matter of weeks, we may find many opportunities to speak together.”
“A true pleasure,” Ambassador Dupont said, smiling. “Do you play chess, by any chance?”
Mekashe chuckled. “In fact, I do. I was taught by a human physician.” He didn’t mention that the physician was a clone, Dr. Strick Hahnson, who was a founding member of the Morcai Battalion. He didn’t want to mention his military ties just yet. Better to let them see him as just an ordinary citizen of an alien world.
“I would enjoy a match. Perhaps tomorrow morning? As they reckon mornings aboard ship, at least,” Dupont added.
“Just past the breakfast hour would suit me well,” Mekashe said.
“I’ll see you then.”
“I wish you both a good evening.” Mekashe bowed once more, gave Jasmine a lingering smile and left them.
Ambassador Dupont looked concerned as he watched Mekashe walk away.
“Is something wrong?” Jasmine asked when she sat down across from her father.
“We know so little about the Cehn-Tahr,” he told her with an apologetic smile. “But I’ve heard rumors that they’re easily offended. So you must be careful about the subjects you discuss with him. No politics. No religion.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I never discuss politics. That’s your department, Daddy, not mine,” she said with a grin. “And religion is something I never discuss outside the family.”
“Good,” he replied. “I’m twitchy, I suppose. The first human ambassador ever to be invited to Memcache. I’m afraid of making a mistake and shaming our government.” He made a face. “There were plenty of people who thought I was a bad choice in the first place. ‘An academic,’ they said in horror, ‘what does he know about politics and interplanetary relations?’”
“I think you’re wonderful,” she said. “And you’ll do fine. I promise I won’t complicate things for you. But Mekashe is very good-looking,” she added with downcast eyes. “He doesn’t even seem to think that I’m flighty.” She looked up. “Maybe they don’t have flighty people where he comes from.”
He chuckled. “From all that I hear about them, and it’s precious little, they’re a pristine and moral people with a very strict society.”
“The emperor’s son is married to a human physician,” she related. “Well, a former physician—Dr. Madeline Ruszel. There was a flash piece about her on a newscast I watched on the Nexus. She was fascinating.”
“A true pioneer. A brigadier general—” he laughed “—and in command of a battalion of female troops. One of my colleagues almost fell over when the announcement was made. In the history of the Cehn-Tahr, there’s never been a female in the military.”
“They say the emperor indulges her.” She sighed. “What a life she’s had. And now she has two sons with her bonded mate!”
The ambassador didn’t mention one other thing he’d been told in confidence, that there was some hush-hush genetic structuring to permit that mingling of very different DNA strands. He knew that the Cehn-Tahr had never mated outside their species before. On the other hand, Chacon, the famous Rojok field marshal, now head of the Rojok government, had bonded with the emperor’s daughter, Lyceria. There were also rumors that the leader of their notorious Holconcom had bonded with a human female, as well.
It gave him comfort, because if the government on Memcache had that tolerant an attitude about racial mixing, it meant that he wouldn’t have to walk on so many eggshells in the performance of his duties.
Just the same, he was uncomfortable about his only child. Jasmine was a sweet and kind young woman, but her tongue ran away with her at the best of times. It would be a disaster if she blurted something out that offended the emperor. He’d heard horror stories about old Tnurat’s temper and the ease with which he took offense at any slight from outworlders.
But that might be an exaggeration. Until he actually met the people he’d be interacting with, it was just as well to ignore rumors and gossip and stick to facts.
“You’re so serious!” she chided.
He laughed self-consciously. “I suppose I am. I’m just nervous. I’ve never done anything quite like this. The president of Terravega himself nominated me for the position and forced it through the houses of government. I don’t want to let him down. I was given the post over several far more qualified professional politicians. The decision didn’t sit well with them,” he added with a sigh. “I suppose they’ll be hoping that I’ll trip and break my neck, leaving the job open for one of them.”
“You’ll be fine,” she repeated, smiling. “You’re so smart, Daddy. It’s why they gave you the job. You get along well with people, too. Diplomacy is one skill I’ve never been able to conquer. I keep hoping, but my tongue just flaps at both ends.” She laughed. “There I go again. Mekashe said he’d need a translator because of all the idioms I use.”
“Cehn-Tahr speak most alien tongues, even the rare dialects,” he replied. “I think he was just teasing you.”
“I wonder what he does?” she said aloud. “I mean, he dresses well and this is an expensive form of travel...”
“We’ll have plenty of time to find out in the weeks ahead,” he assured her. “Meanwhile, eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
She sighed as the table opened up and hot platters of food that they’d ordered from the foodcomp appeared as if by magic. The table folded back into itself with utensils and plates neatly placed and food arranged in the center.
“It’s magic.” Jasmine laughed as she watched. “I’d heard about these foodcomps, but I confess, I didn’t quite believe the gossip.”
“Tech is gaining ground in the galaxy,” he agreed. “I’ve heard some amazing things about Kolmankash on Memcache. It’s the most famous tech development center in the three galaxies. They say the tech there really is like magic.”
“What sort of tech?”
He shook his head. “Nobody knows. The Cehn-Tahr don’t share intimate knowledge of their culture with outworlders. All we get are whispers.”
“Maybe Mekashe would take us there one day, to see the tech for ourselves,” she said dreamily.
He raised both eyebrows. “Let’s live one day at a time and not rush things,” he said.
She sighed. “Okay. But it’s hard.”
“Many things are. And that’s the truth,” he agreed as he watched his coffee cup fill itself.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Jasmine dressed with great care, in a very correct leisure gown of flared pale yellow skirts and a modest bodice that laced in front, with tiny sleeves that just covered her shoulders. Her bare arms were softly rounded, her nails manicured and trimmed. She wore her hair long, instead of in its usual high coiffure. It curled and waved down her back and fell around her shoulders in a pale blond cascade. She wore tiny aqua waterstones hooked in her earlobes, and used the lightest hint of a floral cologne. She hoped she looked good enough to impress a certain handsome alien.
She and her father had finished breakfast and were lounging in the recreation center at a wall table when Mekashe joined them.
He wore a very correct suit, with a banded shirt of blue and white, and slacks that outlined his powerful legs. He smiled as Jasmine almost ran to meet him.
“You look very nice,” he commented.
“So do you!” she burst out without thinking, and then flushed at her own boldness. “Daddy’s got the chessboard set up already,” she added quickly, to hide her self-consciousness.
“Good morning,” the new ambassador greeted, standing long enough to give Mekashe a formal bow, which was returned.
“Daddy was chess champion of the college where he taught,” she said.
“Indeed. Impressive,” Mekashe said politely.
“Well, reputations are easily destroyed, I’m afraid.” The ambassador chuckled. “I daresay you’ll beat the socks off me without much effort.”
“Socks.” Mekashe looked blank.
“They’re worn on the feet with shoes. Casual shoes,” Jasmine explained. “A very ancient sort of apparel. It means that you’ll win.”
“An odd manner of expression. Apologies,” he added with a smile.
“None needed,” the older man assured him. “Most idioms are odd, and I’ve come across them in an amazing array of human languages.”
“Truly, we find them in alien tongues, as well,” Mekashe said. He chuckled, or what passed for chuckling in a Cehn-Tahr. “There are several dialects of Rojok, including a quite ancient one which was never spoken by a human until Dr. Edris Mallory came along.”
“Dr. Mallory?” the ambassador asked softly.
He nodded. “She was a Cularian specialist before she bonded with a Cehn-Tahr of my acquaintance.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard many stories about Dr. Madeline Ruszel, but they don’t mention Dr. Mallory in the flash reports.”
“As you may have already gathered, we share very little of our culture with—” he hesitated to offend by saying “outworlders” “—other cultures,” he said instead.
“I’m quite good at keeping secrets,” the ambassador said, smiling. He glanced at his child a little warily. “My daughter, however...”
“I can so keep a secret,” she said, and made a face at him. “Well, really important ones, at least. I’m so excited that we’re actually going to live on your planet!” she added to Mekashe.
He smiled. “I think you will find it quite beautiful.”
“Does it look like Terravega?” she asked at once.
He shook his head. “We have no pressure domes, nor is there a need for them.” He cocked his head at her. “If you would like to see Memcache, I can arrange for a holo of it in one of the rooms.”
“I would love that!” Jasmine enthused.
“You are also welcome to view it,” Mekashe told the ambassador easily, and smiled again. “It will help you to understand us if you see the manner in which we live.”
“But you said that you couldn’t share things with people outside your culture,” Jasmine began, puzzled.
“An ambassador and his family would hardly qualify as people outside,” he said gently. “Since you will be living among us. The taboo only applies to those who have no connection with us.”
“I see.” She beamed.
He was entranced by her beauty. He had thought her gorgeous the night before, but in the artificial light of “day,” she was even more exquisite. Her hair fascinated him. It was long and curling and glorious. He ached to touch it.
He cleared his throat as he seated himself across the chessboard from the human. “So,” he began. “Who goes first?”
* * *
JASMINE ENJOYED WATCHING the match. Mekashe won with staggering ease, but the ambassador was good-natured and didn’t seem to mind.
Meanwhile, Jasmine was filling her fascinated eyes with their guest. She’d never been so entranced by a male of any species. He had thick black hair. It had a definite wave to it. He kept it short, but she could imagine that if it had grown long, it might have the same curl that her own did.
He had a very muscular physique. She wondered what he did for a living, because he didn’t seem the sort of man to be a diplomat or even a sedate aristocrat. He had the hard, honed look of a man who made his living in ways that might not fit in parlor society.
She wondered at the quick look Mekashe gave her while she processed the thought, almost as if he read her mind. She laughed to herself. She’d never read that any of the Cehn-Tahr were telepaths. She was being fanciful.
“You’re quite skilled, young man,” the ambassador mused.
Mekashe laughed. He was, by human measure, over two hundred and fifty years old. The ambassador, in his forties, had no idea of the true life span of the race he was going to live among. Nor was it Mekashe’s place to tell him so much, not yet, at least. He could share images of Memcache, since the ambassador and his daughter would live there. He could even share common knowledge, like the ability of Cehn-Tahr eyes to change color. But anything more intimate was taboo.
“You have great skill yourself,” Mekashe replied. “But I have been playing for a longer time than you might imagine.”
The ambassador lifted an eyebrow and smiled secretly. He’d been told by Admiral Lawson that the Cehn-Tahr had somewhat modified life spans, and they put human age in the shade. He didn’t share the knowledge.
Mekashe read it and averted his eyes, so that he didn’t give away his telepathic abilities. “Another match?” he asked.
The ambassador chuckled and started setting up the pieces.
* * *
MEKASHE LEFT THEM just before luncheon was served, with the excuse that he had to report to his employer through the Nexus.
“What sort of work do you do?” Jasmine asked innocently.
“I am attached to the political wing of my society,” he said evasively, but with a smile. “My employer works at the Dectat.”
“I see.” She had no idea what a Dectat was.
“You seem disappointed,” he teased. “Did you think I might be secretly a pirate?”
She gasped and laughed out loud, beaming up at him. “Oh no. At least, I would never have said so...!”
“Liar,” he teased gently.
She flushed delightfully. “You just don’t seem like a man who does a desk job. That’s all,” she told him.
He wasn’t. She’d read him quite accurately, without knowing a thing about him. A good omen, perhaps.
He studied her with aching eyes. He wanted desperately to touch her, at least to brush that amazing hair with his fingertips and see if it was as soft as it looked. He couldn’t. There was no way...
He had a thought. Hahnson might know a way. The human physician had, in times long past, been bonded with a Cehn-Tahr female. Mekashe knew nothing about the relationship, but he did know that it had existed. He could contact Hahnson. It would not be taboo to speak with a man who had Cehn-Tahr citizenship and who was best friends with the emperor’s son about a delicate subject like that.
“You look odd,” Jasmine remarked.
“I’ve had a rather delightful thought,” he mused.
“Can I know what it is?”
He shook his head and smiled. “Not just yet. There is a lecture on comet patterns on the observation deck this evening. I plan to attend. If you and your father wish to join me...”
“We’d love to come!” she interrupted, certain that her father would find it fascinating. And she could be with Mekashe again.
He read that thought with utter delight. “Then I’ll see you on the observation deck just after dinner.”
“I’ll be there. With Daddy,” she added reluctantly.
The reluctance she displayed about her father’s presence made him feel warm inside. He made her a soft bow and left her, his mind whirling with possibilities.