Diana Palmer - The Morcai Battalion - The Pursuit

“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.”