CHAPTER TWO
MEKASHE HAD TO go through channels to get to Dr. Strick Hahnson aboard the Holconcom flagship, Morcai. That meant he had first to speak to its commander, his best friend, Rhemun.
“What are you doing aboard a commercial vessel?” Rhemun asked as the holon was initiated and his friend was standing in the room with him in a three-dimensional figure that could be interacted with. The avatar had the same flesh-and-blood reality as its original. They locked forearms in a show of affection.
“I have a problem,” Mekashe confessed, laughing. He reverted to his true form in the communication, not the almost-human-looking one he shared with outworlders. His true form was larger, taller, more massive than the camouflaged one. He had a face just a little more catlike than the familiar humanoid one that he showed to strangers, with a broad nose and a thick mane, and ears that were placed slightly differently than a human’s. There was no visible fur and he had no tail, as cats did. But the resemblance to a galot—the sentient cats of Eridanus Three—was notable, even if Cehn-Tahr were humanoid enough not to raise eyebrows in a crowd.
“What sort of problem?” Rhemun asked.
“One of the heart,” came the amused reply. “I told you when we were boys, about the visions I had...”
“...of a tall, willowy blonde human female, yes, I recall.” Rhemun gave a mock glare. “You thought it might be Edris, despite her lack of height.”
Mekashe laughed. “I must confess that I did. But I have now encountered the living vision.” He drew in a breath. “She is magnificent,” he added. “Beyond my dreams.”
Rhemun cocked his head. “And this is a problem?”
“We have only just met,” his friend replied, dropping into a chair beside Rhemun’s desk. “I do not wish to rush things. The emperor forced me to take a civilian mode of transport,” he began.
“Yes, because you refuse R & R and he thinks you push yourself too hard. Your lieutenant is performing admirably in your absence.”
“Just as well, because I now have no desire to rush home. However, she will be coming with me when I arrive.” He grinned at his friend’s surprise. “Her father is our new Terravegan ambassador.”
Rhemun burst out laughing. “Now, that is a true coincidence,” he remarked.
“As I thought, also.” He drew in a long breath. “So, as you see, I must go carefully forward. I feel an attraction that I do not wish to get out of hand. I want to approach Hahnson for advice,” he added. “But for that, I must have your permission. And your promise of silence.”
“The emperor will know,” Rhemun began.
Mekashe pulled out a small, glowing white ball. It would conceal thoughts from a telepath, even one as formidable as old Tnurat. “This is an innovation on the original design,” he confessed. “I must not announce my feelings to the emperor just yet.”
Rhemun understood. “There will be no issue,” he said. “The emperor reveres humans since Madeline Ruszel has given him two beautiful grandchildren.”
“Still, I must not rush things. I belong, as you do, to the Royal Clan. There are rumors, and only rumors, that too much mixing with the humans might provoke difficulties in the Dectat.”
Rhemun smiled. “Not as long as Tnurat rules. Did you not hear that he punched the president of the Dectat for an altercation with Dtimun over Ruszel’s rescue when her ship crashed on Akaashe?”
Mekashe chuckled. “I did, indeed. That is a long-standing feud.”
“Both are stubborn.”
“Good leaders.”
“Agreed.” Rhemun got up. “You have my permission to speak to Hahnson, and I promise not to mention it until you give me equal permission.” He chuckled. “Will that do?”
“Indeed it will.”
“I wish you great good fortune with the ambassador’s daughter. And I look forward to meeting her, as well.”
“How is Edris?” Mekashe asked.
“Recovering very well. Would you like to see our daughter?” he added.
“Yes!”
Rhemun pulled out a miniature holo and held it up. There was a tiny, black-headed baby in the cradle of her beaming mother’s arms. Edris, looking as lovely as ever before, and Kipling, their son, standing beside his mother, grinning.
“This is Larisse,” he said with pride.
“A delightful child! She will look more like you than Kipling does, I think,” Mekashe commented.
“I think so, as well. She is the light of my life already, as my son and my mate already were.” The little girl was only the second female born into Clan Alamantimichar in thousands of years. Princess Lyceria was the first.
“I rejoice in your good fortune,” Mekashe said. “And I look forward to rejoicing in my own!”
“Speak to Hahnson. I’ll see you before you leave, yes?”
“Of course!”
* * *
STRICK HAHNSON LOOKED more like a wrestler than a physician. He had been with the Morcai Battalion since its creation, in the horror of the Rojok death camp, Ahkmau. At least, his original had been. The true Hahnson was tortured and killed by the Rojoks, who were trying to find an almost fatally ill Dtimun hidden in the camp by his cellmates. Dtimun had cloned the physician for Captain Holt Stern and Dr. Madeline Ruszel as recompense for snatching them out of the Terravegan Strategic Space Command and into the ranks of his newly formed Morcai Battalion. It had been a bittersweet reunion. Stern, too, was a clone. In the old days, the two of them would never have been able to return to Terravegan society because they were clones. There was a terrible prejudice there. But the emperor, out of gratitude for their help in saving his son, had given all the humans of the Morcai Battalion Cehn-Tahr citizenship. The clones of the Holconcom, and the human ones, had meshed quite well together.
Hahnson looked up, surprised to see Mekashe walking into his lab. He grinned and locked forearms. “What a nice surprise,” he enthused. “How in the world did you get here without the ship alerting everybody?”
“The holon,” Mekashe said easily, and with a smile. Hahnson was one of only a handful of humans who knew about the holon tech. “I have a very personal matter to discuss.”
“Still amazes me,” Strick said, walking around the Tri-D3-d image to study Mekashe. “I can even touch you,” he added, doing it, “and you feel real.”
“It suffices, when mates are separated,” the other male remarked wickedly.
“Well, sit down. How are you liking your new job? And why are you here?”
Mekashe took out the white noise ball and put it on the table. “New tech,” he told Hahnson. “It can even block the emperor. You did not hear me say this, because I am not here.”
“Absolutely,” Hahnson agreed, grinning.
“You were bonded to a Cehn-Tahr during the end of the Great Galaxy War, were you not?” Mekashe asked, very solemnly. “I apologize for bringing up such a painful subject,” he added quickly when he saw the look on Hahnson’s face.
“It was a long time ago.” Hahnson took a deep breath. “I have all the memories of my original, including that one. She was a suicide. After all the years in between, it still is an agony to remember.”
“A suicide?” Mekashe asked, stunned.
“You didn’t know. It’s all right. Only a very few people do.” He sat down. “It’s something I don’t talk about. But, yes, we were bonded.”
“Which is why I’m permitted to discuss something quite intimate with you,” Mekashe hastened to add. “You know what rigid rules of culture permeate our society.”
“I do,” the other male said.
Mekashe locked his hands together and studied them. “I have met a female. A human.” He managed a faint smile. “For many years, I had a vision of such a human. I knew her, without knowing her, almost all my life. I thought at first that Edris Mallory was her personification. But in my visions, the female found me equally attractive, and Edris had eyes only for Rhemun.” He lifted his eyes to Hahnson’s. “Now I have met the true female, the one from the visions. She is everything I knew, all that I expected. But the attraction I feel for her is growing too quickly. I have no desire to frighten her or shock her. Like most humans, she has no idea about the mating rituals, how deadly they can be to other males. I want to touch her.” He bit off the words and made a face, like a grimace. “But I dare not. I was wondering, hoping, that there might be some bit of medical tech that could permit touch without the danger of triggering a mating behavior.”
“I think I have just what you need,” Hahnson said, moving to his medicomp. “In fact, you’re in luck, because this is cutting-edge tech, only just released. It was meant for diplomatic use, but I understand that it has been employed covertly for a number of other reasons.”
“What does it do?”
“It coats the skin in nanobytes,” Hahnson said. He pulled up a top secret vid, showing the range of protection it encompassed. “It’s undetectable, much like certain poisons developed on old Earth millennia ago.”
“And it can be trusted not to fail?” the alien asked with some concern.
Hahnson shook his head. “Well, as far as we know.” He hesitated. He was the physician for the human element aboard the Morcai, not their resident Cularian expert who specialized in Cehn-Tahr, Rojok and other alien species. But he heard from Tellas, Edris Mallory’s former assistant, that Mekashe had physiology much like Dtimun, who was the product of generations of genetic improvement.
“Something disturbs you,” Mekashe perceived.
Hahnson shrugged. “It’s probably nothing,” he said after a minute. “You know that there can be issues between different species, especially in intimate contact.”
“Yes, I know of this,” Mekashe said easily. He smiled. “It is not a concern.”
What he meant was that he knew Rhemun had no difficulty in mating with Edris, and he also knew that Dtimun and Madeline Ruszel had mated and produced two children. He had no idea that Rhemun’s branch of the Clan had no genetic modification or that Madeline had to undergo genetic modification to mate with Dtimun.
Hahnson, who assumed that the other Cehn-Tahr had made him aware of the issues, just smiled. “Okay, then. I’ll just create a few vials of the tech so that you won’t run out. How long is this trip going to take?”
“Several weeks,” Mekashe said with a wistful sigh. “I look forward to getting to know Jasmine.”
“Jasmine. A lovely name.”
“She is a lovely creature,” Mekashe replied softly. “I have never encountered such a being in all my travels. She has no hauteur at all, no sense of superiority. She is humble and sweet and—how did she put it?—scattered.”
Hahnson’s eyebrows went up and he chuckled while he worked. “I like her already.”
“Her father seems quite nice,” he added. “He will be the first Terravegan ambassador to Memcache. An intelligent man, with a background in history and politics. He was a professor of political science on Terravega.”
Hahnson frowned. “An odd choice for an ambassador.”
“I thought this, as well. Most political figures are, well, less than brilliant.”
Hahnson grinned. “And, in fact, some of them are stupid.”
“I would put the former Terravegan ambassador in that class without fail,” Mekashe recalled. “Although Taylor was never allowed to set foot on Memcache. Dtimun hated him.”
“So did most of the humans in the Holconcom, especially after he denied permission for us to launch a rescue effort when Madeline Ruszel’s ship went down on Akaashe.”
“Those were dark days. Taylor was executed for treason for his collusion with the Rojoks during the war. I did not mourn. Those were dark days.”
“Very dark,” Hahnson replied. “Madeline was special. She is special. She and Stern and I served together for ten years. We’d have gladly died for her. Ambassador Taylor not only refused permission to search for her crashed ship, he recalled all Terravegan personnel from other services. We actually had to mutiny to stay in the Holconcom and go with Dtimun to save her.”
“A noble undertaking.”
Hahnson smiled. “Noble, indeed.” He finished programming the medicomp and glanced at his companion. “Did you know that Chacon himself went to negotiate with the Nagaashe for Madeline’s release?”
“Chacon and also the emperor, if gossip serves,” Mekashe replied.
“Absolutely. She had powerful allies, even back then. She saved the emperor’s life on Ondar.”
“We heard about that from Rhemun,” Mekashe said. He chuckled. “He was fascinated with her even before they met. Dtimun had some small jealousy of him, in fact, before Komak was born.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. Madeline was crazy about the CO almost from the beginning.” He shook his head. “You can’t imagine the shock when she and Dtimun came aboard the Morcai after their trip to Benaski Port to save Chacon’s life, and Madeline was pregnant. Talk about gossip that went on for days...!”
“I imagine it was intense.”
“Very, especially under the circumstances,” Hahnson agreed, not understanding that Mekashe had no idea what he meant. “In the history of the Cehn-Tahr, there had never been a child born of a human mother and a Cehn-Tahr father.”
“Because of the racial laws,” Mekashe agreed.
“Well, that, too,” Hahnson conceded. He tossed the vials into a vacuum bag and passed it to his former crewmate. “That should be more than enough. But just in case, you can flash me and I can have more couriered to you aboard the passenger ship. You know to watch for signs of allergic reaction, right? Any swelling, redness, sore throat, rash, things like that.”
“I have an amazing constitution.” Mekashe chuckled. “I am never allergic to anything.”
“That isn’t what they say,” his companion replied, tongue in cheek. “Wasn’t there something about you and a flagon of synthale in a bar somewhere on Kurkason...?”
Mekashe cleared his throat. “That was a long time ago. During an unfortunate hunt that ended out on the rim. I was younger.”
“Ah. That would explain it. A few broken bones, a diplomatic incident—the emperor had to intervene with the local authorities...?”
Mekashe almost blushed.
Hahnson grinned. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist it. You guys are so formidable that it tickles us humans when you slip, even though you very rarely do. We don’t feel so inferior.”
“Humans are hardly inferior,” Mekashe retorted. “We have different areas of advantage. Ours is strength and speed. Yours is compassion and tenacity.”
“Thanks,” Hahnson said.
“It makes for an interesting combination, the humans and Cehn-Tahr in the Holconcom,” Mekashe replied. “I miss the unit,” he added gently. “While it is a great honor to command the kehmatemer, the emperor’s personal bodyguard, I miss pitting my skill against Rhemun’s in the Kahn-Bo.”
“I think he misses it, too. But his son, Kipling, is almost as formidable as you are, on the mat.”
“Kipling and Dtimun’s son, Komak, are almost old enough to join the military. Although, between us, I think Kipling will be the greater warrior. Komak enjoys more cerebral pursuits. I think he may make a scientist, like his grandmother the empress.”
“She is formidable.”
“Yes, indeed.” He held up the vacuum pack. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re most welcome. I wish you great good fortune.”
Mekashe frowned slightly. “You sounded as if more than the racial laws kept Ruszel and Dtimun apart,” he began.
Just as he said it, the alert sounded. Rhemun’s deep voice came over the intership frequency, in Cehn-Tahr, announcing a mission and calling for all hands to report immediately to their stations.
“It doesn’t matter.” Mekashe shrugged it off with a smile. “Thank you, again.”
“My pleasure. We’ll talk again.”
“Certainly.”
* * *
HE STOPPED BACK by the command deck to say his farewells to Rhemun.
“I miss the excitement of these engagements,” he confessed to his friend, who was forwarding new orders to his officers over the vid screen.
“I sometimes miss guarding the emperor.” Rhemun chuckled. “But we must do what our Clan status dictates.”
“We must. Thank you for allowing me access to Hahnson. I’ll be in touch.”
“Keep well.”
“And you.”
* * *
MEKASHE SWITCHED OFF the holon, after he retrieved the vacuum bag from the device, where it was captured just before his departure from the Morcai. The technology was amazing, even to the Cehn-Tahr who had used it for generations. It was almost undetectable as apart from reality. The ability to touch and taste, to physically interact with other humanoids, was like magic.
He was grateful, because he’d never have been able to make the trip in real time to rendezvous with the Morcai and retrieve his precious cargo before the passenger ship docked at Memcache. And he didn’t want to waste a single second of this new and exciting relationship he was beginning with Jasmine.
* * *
HE USED A trace of the nanotech on his hands and face and hoped fervently that it would work as intended. He couldn’t afford to trigger a mating behavior, not now. He did wonder at what Hahnson had said, about the racial laws being in addition to some other concern about interspecies mating. But he put it out of his mind. Surely it was insignificant.
He went out to meet Jasmine and her father, dressed in a modern suit that was adapted to Cehn-Tahr standards. It was of a soft fabric that emphasized the powerful muscles in his arms and legs, and of a soft blue color that highlighted his pale gold skin and thick, jet-black hair.
Jasmine almost ran to meet him when he came into the lounge area. She was dressed in a very becoming soft blue dress that fell to her ankles. It flowed around her slender body. Like the other dress he’d seen her wear, it was extremely conservative, with a high neckline and long sleeves, in a floral blue pattern.
“How well we match,” Mekashe teased.
She flushed and her blue eyes twinkled. “Yes, we do.”
“A good omen,” he added in his soft, deep voice. “Do you like opera?”
Her lips fell open. “Oh, I love it!”
“I arranged to get tickets for the performance tomorrow evening of a Terravegan opera company. They are performing something called Madama Butterfly.” He frowned. “Does it have something to do with a form of insect...?”
She laughed, delighted. “No. I’ll explain it to you,” she said. “If that was an invitation, I would love to go. With you,” she added.
His heart lifted. “I can get another ticket, if your father...?”
“Hates opera,” she said at once, and flushed at her boldness. “He likes music, but he prefers instrumentals.”
His smile broadened. “Then he won’t mind if I escort just you?”
“I’m certain that he won’t,” she said. “I’m of age, you know,” she added quickly, in case he thought she had to have her parent’s permission. After all, eighteen was considered adult status now, with the small wars ongoing in the three galaxies. Most of the regular space navy and army recruits were themselves eighteen. A politician had written the current law, with the justification that if a soldier was old enough to die for his political affiliation, he was old enough to be considered an adult and served liquor in a bar.
Mekashe had never considered her age. She seemed not much removed from that of Princess Lyceria, who was also young at barely seventy years. He didn’t realize that humans had life spans far abbreviated from that of Cehn-Tahr, who could live for hundreds of years. In fact, Mekashe himself had seen two hundred and fifty years.
They stood in the corridor, staring at each other, smiling, while passengers walked around them with amused, hidden smiles.
“I suppose we’re blocking traffic,” Mekashe said after a near collision with a very heavy passenger. “We should go.”
“Yes...!” She caught her breath as he reached for her hand and slowly closed his big one around it.
The contact was electrifying, but it didn’t produce any unwanted urges to attack other males. Apparently, Hahnson’s nanotech worked well.
Mekashe smiled at her look of surprise. “In special cases, we can touch humans,” he said after a few seconds. “The racial laws forbidding it have been repealed. However, I had to make certain requests,” he added nebulously.
Her fingers, cool and shivery, closed shyly around his big hand. He felt very warm. She studied his hard, handsome face. “You’re very warm,” she said hesitantly.
He smiled. “My body temperature is somewhere around three degrees warmer than that of a human. You feel nicely cool to me.”
“How fascinating,” she exclaimed. She studied him. “You look like a human with what we call a golden tan,” she added. “Except for your eyes changing color, you don’t look any different from us.”
A misconception, he thought, and a large one. But he didn’t correct it.
“Have you seen a lot of aliens?” she asked after a minute.
He nodded. “Many.”
“Do they all look like you and me?” she wanted to know.
He pursed his lips. “There is a species of giant serpent, which we call the Nagaashe, who are the height of a two-story building. They are vegetarians. They have blue eyes and they purr.”
She caught her breath. “I’m deathly afraid of serpents,” she said, shivering. “They’re very dangerous.”
“The Nagaashe belong to the Tri-Galaxy Council,” he told her. “They are sentient and telepathic.”
“Amazing!”
“There are also species with tentacles instead of legs, and a rare sort of giant spider that feeds on salt water and plankton.”
“All I’ve ever seen were other humans,” she told him wistfully. “I’m so afraid that I’ll embarrass Daddy by blurting out something unforgivable in company. I’m very unsophisticated.”
“I find you charming, Jasmine,” he said softly. “And I cannot believe that you would ever be an embarrassment to anyone, least of all your parent.”
She smiled broadly. “Thanks.”
He cocked his head. “Do you have other family?” he asked.
“You mean siblings?” She shook her head. “No. My mother was killed in an accident. Daddy never wanted to remarry.”
He studied her soft, beautiful face and thought that he knew how that felt. He’d never known love between a male and a female, but he was certain that if Jasmine became his consort, he would never be able to look at another female, no matter what happened.
“You aren’t going to have to leave, before we get to Memcache?” she asked worriedly as they walked slowly toward the recreation area.
“No. Why?”
She glanced up and away. “Well, I don’t really know anybody else aboard, and Daddy’s always got his nose stuck in a virtual book. It’s very lonely.” She flushed.
He chuckled and his big hand tightened around hers.
“Ouch!” she said suddenly.
He loosened his hold. “Too tight? Forgive me,” he said.
Her hand felt incredibly bruised, but she only smiled and said it was all right. She noticed that he was more careful when he claimed her hand again. She’d never known someone so strong.
He felt guilty when he saw her discomfort. He hadn’t realized that he was hurting her. Perhaps humans were a little more fragile than he’d expected. He’d speak to Hahnson about that the next time he saw him.
They joined Dr. Dupont at one of the tables and listened with fascination to a virtual lecture about the periodic comets in this region of space and their relationship to the dark matter surrounding it.
Jasmine tried very hard to concentrate on what was said, but her hand was oddly painful. She wondered at the strength in Mekashe’s hand. Her hand felt bruised, but she wasn’t going to mention it. She knew that he hadn’t meant to hurt her. He was very strong!
* * *
AFTER THE LECTURE, they walked out in the corridor and Mekashe grimaced as he had a flash on his communications ring.
“I must speak with a colleague below,” he said, not wanting to mention that Tresar, a fellow member of the Royal Clan and a member of the emperor’s Imperial Guard, like Mekashe, asked to see him. Tresar disliked morphing into the human form that Mekashe used so easily, so he stayed in his true form and out of sight. He would never venture farther than the gym. “I hate to leave so soon. But tomorrow night, the opera?” he asked Jasmine.
“I’ll look forward to it,” she said with breathless enthusiasm.
He glanced at her father, glad to see that he was smiling. “Perhaps another chess match tomorrow?” he asked.
The ambassador chuckled. “Of course!”
“Then I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he said, glancing at Jasmine with a smile as he left, very reluctantly.
She watched him until he was out of sight.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Jasmine was waiting in the corridor when she spotted Mekashe. She went to him, excited, almost running. “Good morning!” she said, laughing with pleasure.
“Good morning,” he replied huskily. “Did you sleep well?”
“I barely slept at all,” she said breathlessly, looking up at him with wonder.
“Nor did I,” he replied. He reached for her hand and cradled it in his, very gently this time.
They stood looking at each other until they were jostled by other guests and realized they were blocking the way to the dining room.
Mekashe laughed as he turned and drew her along with him to the table where her father was sitting. He could hear her heart beat, it was so loud. It made him feel joyful to know how attracted she already was.
Ambassador Dupont was waiting for them with a chessboard already set up on the table. “Good morning,” he said to Mekashe, and chuckled when he noticed his daughter holding hands with their guest.
“Good morning.” Mekashe let go of Jasmine’s hand reluctantly and sat down at the table with the new ambassador. “I have looked forward to this game. Few of my acquaintances are familiar with it.”
“I have the same issue. It’s nice to find someone who shares the interest.”
“Daddy, Mekashe is taking me to the opera tonight. Okay?” Jasmine asked hurriedly.
“Of course.” Dr. Dupont grinned at her. “Do I hear a gown request forming in your mind?”
She flushed. “Well, my old one is outdated,” she began.
He tugged his credit chip out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Have fun,” he said, waving her away.
She laughed. “I’ll buy something beautiful,” she said. “I won’t be long!”
Ambassador Dupont watched her go with twinkling eyes. “She was dreading this move. Thank you for giving her something to look forward to,” he added. “She’s been painfully sheltered and I’ve pretty much thrown her into the deep end of the swimming pool. She’d never seen an alien before we boarded this vessel.”
“She seems to be doing remarkably well,” Mekashe said.
“That’s because she hasn’t seen a race that she considers frightening yet,” the professor said with a sigh. He shook his head. “I showed her a vid of the Vegan delegation and I thought she was going to have heart failure. And they’re very humanoid.”
“She will adjust,” Mekashe said gently.
“She’ll have to. I just pray that she doesn’t say anything impulsive and cause offense. Of course, on Memcache, there are people just like us, so there shouldn’t be any surprises.”
Which meant that Jasmine didn’t know, nor did her father, that the Cehn-Tahr weren’t what they appeared. He felt a momentary twinge of fear at the thought that Jasmine might find him frightening. But then, he was facing problems before they appeared. It was stupid.
“You may go first,” Mekashe told the professor with a smile.
The other humanoid chuckled. “Fine. Queen to queen’s pawn four,” he said, in the classic opening move.
* * *
JASMINE STOPPED BY the surgery on her way to purchase the dress. She hadn’t wanted to mention how painful her hand really was, where Mekashe had held it the night before. She hadn’t slept because it felt so badly bruised. She hadn’t wanted to say anything about it to Mekashe, who would be horrified to know that he’d caused her so much pain. She couldn’t bear to hurt his feelings. But the pain was really bad and she was going to have to let a doctor look at her hand.
“I slammed a drawer on it,” she explained to the surgeon on call with a faint grimace. “Is it a bad bruise?”
“It’s a bad break, young woman,” the older man said quietly. “No worries, I can fix it. But you must be more careful. Even with our modern tech, broken bones can be tricky, especially the tiny ones in the hand.”
“I’ll be careful,” she promised.
She was shocked. She hadn’t realized how strong Mekashe’s hands were. She knew that he hadn’t meant to hurt her. But the injury made her nervous. If just holding hands could cause such damage, what about anything more?