TheMorcaiBattalion:TheRecruit

by The Recruit (lit)

  “I, uh, have work to do,” Hahnson said, smiling as he moved away.

  “Thanks, Strick,” she replied gently.

  “You’re very welcome.” He gave the C.O. a reassuring look and went to his patients.

  Dtimun stared at Madeline for a long moment. His expression was strange.

  “Thank you for coming to rescue us. And please thank Lawson and the Council…”

  “Those old women!” he growled, whirling. His eyes were dark brown with anger. “I had a comm from Lawson before we arrived here. The Terravegan ambassador convinced the Council that a rescue mission was not only impossible, but economically hopeless. He demanded the recall of all Terravegan troops from the Holconcom and dared them to refuse under threat of court-martial or spacing! Lawson’s hands were tied.”

  She didn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. “Then how…?”

  “Your Old Fellow,’” he explained, calming a little. “He was contacted by the Nagaashe and led here. I pulled the Holconcom out of the Tri-Galaxy Fleet, with his…and the Dectat’s, belated,” he corrected abruptly, “blessing.”

  She felt warm affection for the old fellow, but shock for the unexpected diplomatic upheaval Dtimun’s decision would have had on the Council and even the Tri-Fleet. All that, for a mere woman?

  “You are still Holconcom,” Dtimun explained solemnly. “We would not leave you to your fate.”

  She frowned. “If Taylor forbade a rescue attempt—I mean, half the crew is Terravegan…?” she left the question hanging.

  “Because of the Terravegan ambassador’s threat, I attempted to leave the Terravegans behind, but they mutinied and refused to leave the ship. Then the old fellow and his kehmatemer came aboard and also refused to leave,” he added with a flash of laughing green eyes.

  She began to smile. She’d never felt more valued. It was surprising, but touching. She studied his hard face. The strain of the past few days showed there. “But how did you negotiate for our release? The Cehn-Tahr have no embassy here.”

  “We picked up a…diplomat, of sorts, who negotiated with the Nagaashe for us. His race has a treaty with the Nagaashe. We are at war with him, but he came with a friend who provided him with a disguise.”

  He turned toward the open door, and motioned to two figures standing there. One was dressed in the robes of a desert chieftain. He looked quite humanoid, with black hair and eyes and a dark complexion. He smiled, and white teeth flashed at her. His tall, muscular companion was wearing robes like a Terravegan monk, his features obscured, but Madeline was fairly certain that he was a Rojok.

  “So this is Ruszel,” the chieftain said, still smiling. “With the heart and courage of a galot, or so we hear from your shipmates. I am Hazheen Kamon. Your commander lived with my tribe many decades past, when he was a cadet at the military academy on my world.”

  “It was the finest military academy in the galaxy,” the Rojok added. There was a smile in his voice, which seemed oddly familiar.

  “Indeed,” Dtimun replied easily, “and friendships made there have outlasted alliances and even wars.”

  Hazheen Kamon chuckled. “So it seems. It is an honor to have met you, Warwoman,” he told Madeline.

  “Thank you for your help in our rescue, sir,” Madeline said with genuine gratitude.

  “You are welcome.” He bowed and nodded to the other two before he left the compartment.

  The Rojok moved his hood back and Madeline’s gasp of recognition was audible. The “monk” was Chacon himself.

  “Sir, the risk…!” she exclaimed.

  He shrugged and smiled. “I owe your commander my life. It was little enough to do in return.” He wagged a long finger at her. “However, Ruszel, I will expect you to behave with better judgment in the future. You should never have left the Holconcom. Specialists in Cularian medicine are thin on the ground, even in these times.”

  She managed a wan smile. She couldn’t tell him why she’d left. “That’s twice I owe you my life, sir,” she said.

  “One day, you may save mine,” he chuckled. He turned and clasped forearms with Dtimun. “Hazheen and I will transfer to the scout ship in your hangar and return to Dacerius before any of your complement and crew recognize me and ask awkward questions. Keep well, Dtimun.”

  “And you. We owe you a debt of gratitude for your help.”

  Chacon replaced his hood and moved back out into the corridor.

  “One must say that you collect unique friendships,” she told Dtimun. Now she understood Dtimun’s relationship with Chacon. Long before the war, the two had been friends at military school.

  He clasped his hands behind him as he studied her. “One could say the same for you.”

  “How is Mallory working out?” she asked.

  He sighed. “It would be better not to ask.”

  “That bad?” she murmured.

  “She is terrified of me.”

  “Imagine that,” she murmured dryly. She moved and grimaced. The pain had eased, but there was a lot of discomfort. But she looked at him and helpless delight flooded her.

  He stiffened, his lips making a thin line, as the bombardment of pheromones engulfed him in tension. “And here we are again,” he muttered. “I shall have to leave or call Hahnson back with more sedative.”

  She grimaced. “I’m sorry, sir. Really I am.”

  He drew in a harsh breath. “It is not your fault.”

  She felt the powerful hum of the ship’s engines as it left orbit. “Are we headed back to Trimerius now?” she asked, anticipating that she would be returned almost at once to Admiral Mashita’s unit for recuperation.

  “No,” he said shortly. “We are taking you to Memcache. Caneese has already contacted Admiral Lawson about this. You will stay at Mahkmannah. Temporarily, Lieutenant Mallory and Hahnson will remain, to oversee your care. I have duties that will require a few days in the capital. The Holconcom will be allowed R&R during my absence.”

  She managed a smile. “They’d probably prefer to go with you. Mahkmannah is rather serene for our crew.”

  He smiled, too. “I agree. I will take the majority of them with me to the capital and allow them the use of scout ships for their leave.”

  She settled back down, shifting restlessly. “Thank you for coming after us, sir,” she said quietly. “I expected to die, especially when I came to and found myself surrounded by Nagaashe.” She frowned. “They really hated the Cehn-Tahr.”

  His eyes narrowed. “There was something more, was there not? A reason that they contacted the old fellow instead of letting you die?”

  She nodded. She hesitated. “I showed them the memory I had, when you saved the little Altairian child aboard ship, just after you rescued us from the Rojoks near Terramer.”

  He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. She knew he was reading, also, her helpless disclosure of that one day with him on Memcache. She had been forced, unwilling, to allow the old fellow access to it as well.

  “You wanted to refuse the old one access to your thoughts,” he said. “It would have meant your death.”

  “He belongs to the Dectat,” she said softly. “I was afraid that he might put duty above comradeship.”

  “Once, long ago, that might have been true. He and I have been adversaries for longer than you have lived,” he added. “But because of you, wounds have been mended. Many wounds.”

  “I haven’t done much lately, except mess things up,” she sighed.

  He cocked his head and studied her with faint green eyes. “You have made possible a treaty with the Nagaashe which none of our best diplomats could manage in over a century of negotiation.”

  “Well, that was an accident.”

  “For our people, a very good accident.” He frowned quizzically. “It is curious to me to consider that one human female, fragile and quite frankly insubordinate, is responsible for so many changes in my society in such a short time.”

  “I could be responsible for a good one in my society i
f you’d give me a weapon and five minutes alone with Ambassador Taylor.”

  He laughed. “Not possible.”

  “Darn.”

  “You must rest,” he said. “The old fellow is also recovering. His mental gifts are formidable. Perhaps that is one of the few benefits of all the DNA tampering.”

  “There are others,” she replied. “The Cehn-Tahr have protected many races from extinction by madmen like Mangus Lo and Chan Ho. Your altered genome is responsible for the abilities that made that possible.”

  “Yes, but the burden of those abilities is also ever present.” His eyes narrowed on her face, and she understood what he meant.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “I’ve already said that I could take megavitamins and work out with weights,” she said drowsily. “Maybe have a few injections of whatever they put in Stern’s bones to make them hard as steel…”

  She drifted off. His eyes flashed green at the insinuations, and then became a somber blue as he realized what a dream that was. She would never be able to withstand the Cehn-Tahr idea of bonding.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Madeline was taken to the fortress near which she had first met Caneese, in the religious compound at Mahkmannah on Memcache. The older woman was there to meet the ambutube, tossing out instructions as if the fortress were as familiar to her as her own home.

  Madeline noticed it. Dtimun only smiled.

  Lieutenant Edris Mallory and Dr. Strick Hahnson were guiding the ambutube into the bedroom that Caneese signified. It was bigger than the entire barracks where Madeline had lived for most of her career as a medical practitioner.

  “Here?” she asked weakly as two strong attendants eased her out of the ambutube and onto a bed which seemed big enough for six people.

  “Here,” Caneese said gently, and with a smile. “You are an honored guest.”

  “Why?” Madeline asked bluntly. “All I did was get blown up by some angry serpents.”

  Caneese laughed. “You made peace with the serpents, who have been our adversaries since the end of the Great Galaxy War. The Dectat is in an uproar. Our finest diplomats have tried for decades to bring about a treaty with the Nagaashe, who have abundant stores of Helium 3. You accomplished this in less than a solar week.”

  “It was an accident, I assure you,” she said with a wan smile. “And not due to any diplomatic skills I possess. They were impressed because I saved the little serpent here…” She stopped because Mallory was giving her an odd look.

  Caneese laughed. “She called a flock of Meg-Ravens to save the little Nagaashe. It lives here on our…on the estate, with its parents.” The slip was so smoothly covered that only Madeline noted that it had been made. If Madeline had been less nauseated by the trip, she might have realized more than she did.

  She wanted to tell her fellow humans that the Nagaashe could travel through time, but she didn’t. That was a private matter.

  Caneese nodded, as if she heard the thought. She turned at an odd, uneven step coming closer. “Oh, dear,” she said softly. “Madeline, I fear that your presence here may attract consequences.”

  Madeline’s first thought was that the emperor might send a squad to evict her from his planet.

  Caneese laughed. “Certainly not!” she exclaimed, and now Madeline knew that the older woman was a telepath. “He has made a public announcement of your achievement and means to honor you in the Dectat. No, I meant Rognan.”

  Edris Mallory blinked. “Who is Rognan?”

  Caneese nodded toward the doorway with a resigned sigh.

  Rognan, the Meg-Raven, clomped toward them on his bad leg, making a horrible screeching sound. “Rus…zel,” he wailed. “Rus…zel not dead?”

  “Ruszel is not dead,” Caneese assured him, moving back quickly, as if she were afraid of him.

  The huge bird moved to Ruszel’s side. He laid his huge head against her arm. “Scared,” he croaked. His feathered body shivered.

  Madeline put an arm around him, and then lifted her hand to stroke the silky feathers. “No need,” she said softly, touched by the bird’s obvious concern and affection. “I’m going to be fine. Just fine. There, there, it’s all right.”

  Edris was staring, mesmerized, at the enormous avian. “He can talk,” she said. “Does he know you?” she asked her comrade.

  “Yes. I came here once, with the commander,” Ruszel said. “It was when I rescued the little Nagaashe.”

  “Rognan has been fascinated with her, because she can speak in his language,” Caneese explained. “Very few humanoids can master the bird speech. It is extremely complicated…”

  A burst of Meg-Raven speech came from the doorway, where Komak was just entering. His eyes were a mischievous green as he communicated something to the bird, which no one else in the room understood.

  Rognan turned and clomped over to him, enveloping him with one huge wing. He spoke in his own tongue in return, and laid his head against Komak’s chest.

  “How very strange,” Caneese exclaimed. “He does not like strangers, even if they are Cehn-Tahr. And how is it that you can manage his language so easily?”

  Komak moved to the older woman and touched her cheek before he bent to lay his forehead against hers, as Madeline had seen Dtimun do. “It is a long story,” he chuckled.

  Caneese returned the gesture. Her eyes went an opaque blue as they searched his. “But, it is not possible,” she stammered in Cehn-Tahr.

  “It will be,” he replied in the same tongue, smiling. “We have much to discuss. You are about to make an astounding discovery.”

  “I am?” Caneese queried.

  “Could the two of you possibly speak in Standard?” Madeline asked.

  They turned and stared at her, and she had a sudden shock of recognition. They looked very much alike.

  They looked at each other and Komak pursed his lips. “Well, not so very much,” he commented. “She is female.” He frowned and turned back to Madeline. “I do not look like a female?” he asked with such horror that everyone laughed.

  The question diverted them, which had been its purpose. No one seemed to realize that Komak had answered a question which Ruszel had not voiced.

  “We should leave Madelineruszel alone, so that she can have peace and quiet in which to heal,” Komak commented.

  “Yes, we should,” Hahnson agreed. He checked her over with his wrist unit one more time and nodded, satisfied.

  “I can stay with you, if you like,” Edris offered, and in a very enthusiastic manner.

  Caneese gave her a wry glance, as if she understood something the rest did not. “Captain Rhemun will only be here for two days,” she said. “I promise.”

  Edris made a face. “Very well, ma’am.” She smiled at Madeline. “I’ll see you later. We’re not lifting for a few more days, either. The commander says he has duties in the capital, so we might as well be on hand here if you need us.” Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “He didn’t mention that the captain of the kehmatemer would be around, also. Captain Rhemun absolutely hates humans,” she informed Caneese. “But he likes Dr. Ruszel, and she’s human!” she added.

  “It is a long story, and this is not the time,” Caneese said, but smiled to lessen the sting of the remark. “I will tell it to you one day.”

  Edris nodded. “If you need us,” she told Madeline, and placed a synthcomm on Madeline’s wrist, which, if pressed, would alert the medics that they were required.

  “I’ll call,” Madeline promised. “Thanks, Edris. And thank you, Strick,” she added.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t do much. Your ‘old fellow’ saved you,” he reminded her.

  “He did,” she recalled, “with some of the most astounding methods I’ve ever known. I could do a dissertation on what he taught me.”

  “Not a bad idea, to revisit your doctoral studies.”

  “I’ll think about that.”

  He and Edris left with the attendants, Komak and Rognan. Caneese remained. She sat d
own gracefully in a chair beside the huge bed.

  “This ‘old fellow’ of yours,” she began. “How did you meet him?”

  Madeline sank back into the pillows and related the events that had happened on Ondar.

  “If your colleague, Mallory, thinks that Captain Rhemun hates humans,” she began, “she knows nothing of the prejudice that has existed against humans here. Your ‘old fellow’ leads the kehmatemer, and he has been the single most adversarial member of the Dectat on racial policy.”

  “Yes. He tried to order my execution when the commander added me to the Holconcom,” Madeline recalled. She smiled gently. “But his attitude changed when we went into battle together.”

  “You and his men went into battle,” came the soft correction, and a laugh. “You could not mend him completely, although you saved his life. And now he has saved yours.” She tilted her head. “Is it not amazing, the reciprocity of existence?”

  “One event links to another event, like links in a chain,” Madeline agreed. “You and Komak favor each other very much.”

  The older woman caught her breath at the sudden change of topic. She averted her eyes. “We Cehn-Tahr all resemble each other. We do not have the variations in color that you humans do. We all have pale golden skin and black hair.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me, are you, ma’am?” Madeline asked.

  Caneese laughed. “I would not dare. Komak has knowledge of a plot,” she added more solemnly, “that may involve some risk to you and Dtimun.”

  She noted again that odd pronunciation of the commander’s name which the old fellow had given it. Perhaps it was some nuance that outworlders weren’t privy to.

  “But we can speak of this later. Your ‘old fellow’ has a voice in the making of policy. He now favors great changes. Your influence is being felt in the very heart of the Dectat. It is the prophecy, Madeline. You carry the future inside you.”

  Madeline blinked. She felt very tired and sleepy.

  “Yes, you are tired. You have been through a traumatic ordeal, and you should rest.” Caneese got to her feet. She paused beside the bed to smooth back Madeline’s hair. “It is the most incredible color,” she commented. “I have never seen anything like it.”