by Diana Palmer
Dtimun, indulgent, smiled at her. “Even in an artificial atmosphere, the gravity here would be too uncomfortable for fish.”
“I should have known that.” She smiled shyly.
He looked at her with pure male appreciation of her obvious pregnancy under the pretty blue robes she wore.
“Is my nose on crooked?” she asked self-consciously.
“Certainly not. I was thinking that pregnancy suits you,” he added in a soft, deep tone.
She flushed a little. It was difficult, this new relationship. And still harder to reconcile the humanoid male in front of her with the taciturn commander of the past few years.
He moved closer. “It is difficult for me, as well,” he confessed. “Our relationship, while turbulent, has always been nonphysical.”
“I never thought of males as anything but comrades,” she tried to explain. “I was honest when I told you, at the beginning, that I had no idea what was normal female behavior.”
“I believe you are better informed now,” he said, and although he didn’t smile, his lack of expression was suspicious.
“Sir!” she said with mock embarrassment. Then she spoiled it by grinning wickedly.
He chuckled and turned away. Sfilla was returning. “It is just up here,” she said. “They will bring our luggage presently.” She led the way.
* * *
THE SUITE WAS EXQUISITE. Madeline had never known luxury, until she arrived at the fortress on Memcache. This was almost as opulent. There were chairs and loungers everywhere, at least two of which were antigrav chairs, which could be moved to any location by means of switches on the armpads. There was a high deck with artificial plants and flowers, and a low deck with a pool.
“The water in that one is real,” Dtimun told her. “It has temperature control and jets for massage.”
She stared at it, entranced. “I’ve never been deliberately immersed in water in my life,” she said. That was true. Recycled chemical showers took the place of water on ships. She glanced at him, grinning. “I don’t think being thrown into a mud hole by an enemy soldier counts.”
He laughed. “It does not.”
“What would one wear in that?” she wondered, indicating the pool.
He was silent.
She turned back and stared at him until she got the message, and then she chuckled. “I’m going to check out the kitchen.” She escaped to the sound of deep laughter.
Sfilla joined her. She laughed, too. “He would never enter such a body of water unclothed with a female,” she whispered to Madeline. “No Cehn-Tahr male would. It would be, how do you humans say, indiscreet.”
“Really?” Madeline was impressed.
“Just as you are discreet, so is he,” Sfilla said gently. She studied Madeline’s glowing complexion curiously. “He is so different with you. In all my years with the family, I have rarely heard him laugh, or seen him happy.”
Madeline smiled at her. “I drive him nuts on the ship,” she pointed out.
“Nuts?”
“Crazy,” Madeline told her. “I don’t mean to. It just seems to happen.”
Sfilla shook her head. “A female on a warship. It is a strange concept.”
“Wearing robes is a strange concept,” she countered. “I’ve worn a uniform since I was about three years old.”
“That is sad,” Sfilla said.
“It was exciting, though. I learned to use a sniper kit my first year in the military. I was incredibly gifted, they said.”
“Gifted.” Sfilla managed to look shocked. It was a deliberate expression, behind which a smile lurked that Madeline did not notice.
“I know,” Madeline said gently. “It’s a strange concept. What do we have to eat? I’m starving!”
“That is the influence of the child,” the Cehn-Tahr woman said gently. “He grows quite fast.”
“I have noticed,” Madeline said, one hand resting on the firm mound of her belly. She smoothed her fingers over it absently, wondering what her child would look like, if he would favor her or Dtimun more. Then she realized that she would never know, and the sadness swept over her like a cold wave.
Sfilla noticed the change of expression, but she didn’t say anything. She went to make food.
Dtimun came up behind Madeline. His lean hands caught her shoulders. “You must not think of it,” he said quietly.
“I know. It’s hard, that’s all.” She turned and looked up at him with wide, soft eyes. “I didn’t understand what it would be like, to carry a child. It’s very different, the reality.”
He took her face in his hands and bent to lay his forehead gently against hers. “Very different,” he agreed.
She drew in a long breath. Her hands rested softly on the front of his robe, against his broad chest. “I’m so tired,” she said.
“That is the influence of the child,” he said with affection.
She opened her eyes and lifted her head. She wondered if he was comparing this pregnancy with the one before, that of the woman he loved.
“In fact, I was not,” he said softly. His face tautened. “She was not pregnant. And I never knew it, until I felt the child inside you. For decades, I blamed your old fellow for her death and the loss of my child. Only now am I certain that she never carried one.”
Her heart jumped. “But you said...!”
“She told me there was to be a child,” he replied. “I understood nothing about pregnancy. Now I know the difference.”
She was thinking that if the woman lied about her pregnancy, she might have lied about other things.
“Yes,” he said aloud.
He let her go and moved away, troubled by his own thoughts.
Madeline watched him in silence. She couldn’t think of anything to say that would help. That realization must have been very painful for him.
She was grateful for Sfilla’s covert tutoring. She hadn’t realized that the Cehn-Tahr woman was a minor telepath until their last day on Memcache, when she had slipped and revealed it. That had allowed Madeline to ask her for help, to block the commander from her thoughts. Some of them were disturbing.
She had in mind going back to the Amazon Division as soon as this mission was over. She didn’t want him aware of her plans. If it ever became known that Madeline had been pregnant with his child, he would be disgraced, and she was determined to keep the secret. Even with the memory wipe, a detailed physical scan would reveal that there had been a pregnancy. She couldn’t risk Dtimun’s career, or his life, again. She would arrange her affairs so that when they returned, she could report immediately to Admiral Mashita. And Dtimun would not know, until it was too late. She placed her hand on the small mound of her belly and felt the pain all the way to her soul.
* * *
THAT NIGHT, SHE stood on the balcony overlooking the Silken Strip in the distance, the loop of neon lights that seemed to go on forever. On the bleak asteroid, it was a band of color and life.
There was no real atmosphere, except what was created under the blister dome that contained the outpost, but she felt something like wind whip her hair away from her face. Her life had never been so complicated. This tiny being inside her was causing her to feel things she’d never imagined.
Dtimun joined her. “You must not brood over the future,” he said firmly. “It only distorts the present.”
“Yes, well, I don’t imagine you’ve ever been pregnant, sir, so you won’t be able to see my point of view.”
He chuckled unexpectedly. “No. I have not.”
She laughed softly, trying to imagine that outlandish scenario.
He drew her against him and held her there, his arms around her. “Tomorrow, we must start making inquiries,” he said against her hair. “If the two we seek are actually here, it should not be to
o difficult to find them.”
She was enjoying the closeness. Her life had been one of solitude, apartness. It was disturbing to find how much she liked being close to him.
He lifted his head and searched her eyes in the dim light on the balcony. His own eyes were a solemn blue. “You see things from a perspective which is not accurate,” he said suddenly. “I am not as you see me, Madeline. There are secrets I keep, even now.”
“Why?”
“It will do no good to discuss them,” he said flatly. “What is, is.”
“And that is as clear as mud,” she muttered.
“A good analogy,” he replied.
“Smoke and mirrors is a better one,” she said with a little of her old mischief. “You thought the humans would feel threatened if they knew how powerful your mind was, or how you fought. You were wrong. Your crew would follow you off a cliff. I certainly would.”
He traced her fine eyebrows. “The Cehn-Tahr have other traits, of which we never speak.”
“This would have something to do with why the mating was in the dark and I wasn’t supposed to touch you,” she guessed, nodding when he lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “But I said at the time that my instruments and my senses told a different story about your physical makeup. I know you aren’t what you seem.”
“We do not reveal ourselves to outworlders.”
“I’m not. I have temporary Cehn-Tahr citizenship and we are bonded,” she reminded him.
“Bonded for a mission, Madeline,” he replied quietly. “Only for a space of days or weeks, however long it takes us to perform the task which brought us here. As you yourself wished, when we return, you will regress the child and have a short-term memory wipe. You will not remember any of this.”
Her heart fell to her knees. She went cold in his arms. Yes, it had been her own request, one which she now regretted with all her heart.
“That makes no difference, either,” he said softly. He could read her surface thoughts quite accurately. Strange, how difficult it was to see deeper. He recalled his father’s comment that she had been tutored in mind blocks. But there were few Cehn-Tahr who could have provided such counseling. He wondered who it was.
“Our laws are absolute,” he added grimly, after a minute. “Even were the Species Act overturned, the inheritance laws are very much in place. No child of an outworlder will ever be able to inherit my titles or my lands. That is the law.”
She felt vaguely nauseated. She often forgot the difference in their stations in life. He was an aristocrat. She was a very lowly human soldier. She knew that it would be impossible for them to have the child, at any rate. Discovery would mean death, for both of them. She tried not to think of the future. But it pushed its way into the present constantly. She stepped away from him. “Sorry, sir,” she said formally. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
He scowled. “Madeline, I did not mean it that way. Your social status has nothing to do with this.”
She managed a smile. “Yes, but we’re very different in background. Even if there were no laws, it would still be impossible. I’m going in. Sleep well, sir.”
She turned and left him there, biting his own tongue for what he should never have put into words. He had not meant to hurt her. It was difficult, this changed status between them.
* * *
DAYS PASSED IN their search for Chacon. It was a small community, but it was quite possible for even a famous military commander to be hidden there. Dtimun was occupied with contacts who might be able to ascertain Chacon’s whereabouts.
Meanwhile, Madeline had made friends with an elderly retired soldier who was living in the hotel she and Dtimun occupied. His name was Mardol, and he had all sorts of souvenirs of the battles he’d fought. One was an ancient sniper rifle, which was his pride and joy. He didn’t know Madeline’s background, but when he told her about it, she showed interest in it.
She went with him to his quarters. He motioned her into his one good chair and pulled a heavy metal box out from under the sofa which doubled as his bunk. He opened it, displaying the vintage weapon.
“A Calback 220 Armonium sniper rifle!” she exclaimed. The old weapon was familiar to her. During her first assignment, as an eight-year-old, she had won medals for her abilities as a sharpshooter. She was placed in strategic locations during battles to thin out the forward enemy patrols. Her skills as a sniper were formidable.
The old soldier gaped at her. “Why, yes,” he said, surprised.
“It’s in beautiful condition,” she said, staring at it.
“I have not used it in many years,” he said, “but I keep it properly cleaned.”
“There’s no power pack,” she pointed out.
He chuckled. “I have no need of one. However, this weapon was made for innovations. It can use any power pack, including one from a chasat. What a pity they replaced it with that Ararom 520 sightscope. This was efficiency at its best. They said it was too heavy.” He scoffed. “Too heavy! The weight gave it stability! The least recoil can cost you a hit at great distances.” He sighed. “Well, the old ways are gone. I suppose it is as well that the old weapons are gone, too.” He closed the box and studied her. “How odd, to find a female who enjoys talk of war and weapons. How did you know the model of the rifle?”
“My father is in the military,” she said, smiling. “I learned a lot from him, about weapons.”
“I see. Was he attached to a sniper unit?” he asked.
“To a forward commando division, but not artillery. He’s an airman.”
“A fine assignment,” the old man said. “It is a great pity, to grow too old to be useful in war. I do miss the front lines, Lady Maltiche,” he added, using the name she was called by covertly.
So do I, she thought, but she didn’t say it. “Could you tell me again about that battle at Lefor Galt?” she asked instead. “It was quite exciting!”
He chuckled and put the gun away. “It would be my pleasure.”
* * *
DTIMUN FOUND HER still listening to the old man recite his combat history. He excused himself and said that Madeline must come to dinner with him.
“You are fortunate to have so knowledgeable a bonded companion,” the old soldier told him. He smiled and shook his head. “I can understand why the two of you are here, in this place. You would surely die for your present condition, Lady Maltiche. It is only that I do not understand how you were able to breed...” He stopped at Dtimun’s expression. He said. “Forgive me. The modern world has passed me by. I suppose the advances in biotech have been impressive. I have never heard of a Cehn-Tahr child which is part human.”
“Nor has anyone else,” Madeline laughed. “It will be a first.”
“Indeed. A pity you must live here,” the old man said, his smile fading. “It is not a place to raise a child. They say the colonies on the Rim have persons who are outcast from their own societies. Might you not be able to settle there, beyond the reach of your respective governments?”
“That is a possibility,” Dtimun replied quietly.
“It is sad when people who wish to be together are denied only for political reasons,” the old soldier said. “Still, there are ways around the law.” He chuckled. “I know. I have found most of them.”
Madeline laughed. So did Dtimun. “We must go.” He held out his hand and Madeline slid hers into it.
“I enjoy our conversations,” she told the old man.
“I enjoy them even more. There are not many persons who oblige an old warrior by asking to hear his tales of valor. You are a kind young woman.”
“I do not oblige you,” she pointed out. “I really enjoy the stories.”
“Come back anytime,” he told her. “You will be welcome.” He glanced at Dtimun. “She knows a sniper kit when she sees one. She even knew the model!�
�
“I told him that my father was in the military,” Madeline said quickly.
“Indeed. Good day,” he told the old man respectfully.
“Good day.”
Dtimun led her back out into the hall, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “How is it that you are familiar with sniper rifles?” he queried.
She grinned. “My first assignment was as a sniper,” she told him. “I had the highest score in the division.”
“How old were you?”
“Eight,” she said.
He frowned. Even the Cehn-Tahr military did not accept boys until they were adolescent. “You had no childhood at all.”
She flushed. “Well, we do what the state says we must,” she told him. “Does Sfilla have the meal prepared already? I’m starved.”
“She does.” He studied her quietly. “You do not like discussing your past.”
She grimaced. “It was regimented. I love the military,” she added. “But it does seem improper to take children at such a young age and teach them how to kill.” She shrugged, her eyes somber. “The Rojoks do it as well, though. Perhaps both races are barbaric.”
He smiled. His fingers touched her cheek lightly. “War creates such barbarity.” The smile faded. “The Cehn-Tahr, in our first days as an empire, practiced much worse barbarity than your own race.”
“Your emperor did what he thought was best to secure the empire,” she said simply. “Politics and military decisions very seldom mesh.”
He nodded.
Her hand rested gently on her stomach. Her eyes were sad. “If the child could be born,” she said hesitantly, “I wouldn’t wish him a childhood like mine.”
He smoothed his hand over her hair. “My own was quite regimented. Each day had its own strict routine. I would not wish the child to follow such a pattern as my own.” He smiled sadly. “In a different life, perhaps...” He let the thought trail away. His hand went back to his side. “We should go in.”
She nodded. She went ahead of him down the corridor, past the crowded, busy shops with their duty free merchandise. Despite the danger of their situation, she enjoyed her pregnancy and the vast change in her turbulent relationship with her commander. She had never thought such things would be possible. She hadn’t wanted to think about a child at all. Now, the child was the center of her world, and soon she would be forced to put it away, as she put away other dreams and hopes that were impossible.
