Invictus

by Diana Palmer

  “She speaks truth,” Dtimun agreed. “Which brings us to our presence here.” He gave Princess Lyceria a look that promised retribution. “Your family is frantic,” he said coldly. “Your presence here only heightens the risk to Chacon.”

  “I had to warn him,” Lyceria argued. “I tried sending messages, but I could not penetrate the nexus controls with flashes. I had no idea that any of you knew the true situation, which I learned from Captain—” she stopped at once “—from a soldier of my acquaintance.”

  “Rhemun,” Dtimun said with a flash of brown anger. “I will have something to say to him when we return.”

  “If Edris Mallory hasn’t killed him by then,” Madeline said with pursed lips.

  “Pardon me?” the princess asked.

  “Mallory is Madeline’s assistant,” Dtimun explained with faint amusement. “She has taken a violent dislike to the captain of the kehmatemer, and he to her.”

  “There was a rumble before we left Memcache,” Madeline agreed. “She threw a soup ladle at him, and he turned a pot of soup over her head.”

  The princess had to smother a laugh. So did Chacon.

  “That does not sound like the captain,” Lyceria commented.

  “Who is supposed to be kidnapping me?” Chacon interrupted. “I have only my bodyguard with me here.”

  “Yes, but why did you come here?” Dtimun wanted to know.

  Lyceria looked guilty. Chacon glanced at her and grimaced.

  “I see,” Dtimun murmured coolly.

  “I had to warn him,” Lyceria repeated defensively. “He saved our lives at Ahkmau.”

  “He’s saved mine twice,” Madeline replied quietly, with a glance at Chacon. “When Komak told us the danger of doing nothing, we thought the risk was worth our lives.”

  Lyceria had only just noticed the bulge under Madeline’s robes. She caught her breath. “That cannot be what it looks like,” she said hesitantly, with a truly frightened look at Dtimun. “The protocols...!”

  Dtimun raised an eyebrow and bent to draw back, discreetly, the fabric from Madeline’s collarbone, where the scar of bonding was noticeable.

  “You have bonded?” Lyceria said, aghast. She went very still. “With...witnesses?”

  Dtimun nodded. “Caneese performed the ceremony and the court physicians attended Madeline subsequently.”

  “So many people, to know such a dangerous secret,” Lyceria groaned.

  “Caneese will make certain that the secret is kept,” Dtimun said. “You must also swear not to reveal it. Madeline’s pregnancy is the only protection we will have while we search for the assassin.”

  “Yes, and it is a wise disguise,” Lyceria agreed, “but what about afterward?” she asked with real and evident concern for both of them.

  Madeline’s thoughts were laid bare. She was too unsettled to block them.

  Lyceria gasped. She stared at Madeline with horror. “You would regress the child?” she exclaimed. “But it is not possible!”

  Madeline was very calm. “It’s a simple procedure,” she said gently. “He’ll be absorbed back into the tissues of my body.”

  “The part of him that is you, will be,” Lyceria corrected, her lovely eyes almost wincing. “But the part that is Cehn-Tahr, which is sentient, cannot be absorbed. It would have to be surgically removed, and the pain...!”

  Madeline had not, until that moment, realized the flaw in her own argument. The child had two strands of DNA: Dtimun’s and her own. Alien DNA, unlike human, could never be absorbed back into her body. And if the child was truly sentient even at this early stage, it would be agony.... She ground her teeth together.

  Dtimun said nothing. But he looked at Lyceria with an opaque blue stare, which she answered with one of her own.

  Madeline frowned at what seemed like a staring contest. But she knew it was something more.

  Chacon glanced at Madeline and sighed. “They converse in a manner which we cannot understand,” he said. “Let us hope they are not plotting something unspeakable.”

  After a minute, the two Cehn-Tahr stopped communicating. Dtimun’s eyes were laughing as he looked at Madeline. So were Lyceria’s.

  Madeline glanced at Sfilla, who had just entered the room. “Did you hear any of that?” she asked with a pointed glare. “Assassins should be able to read minds as well as lips. And thank you very much for offering to let me teach you hand-to-hand. You’re probably a master trainer!”

  Sfilla grinned. “I am. I am skilled in all martial arts, including the Kahn-Bo, in which I have only one or two superiors. I, too, learned my craft as a child.”

  Madeline shook her head. “I never suspected.”

  “You are only vulnerable while you carry the child,” Sfilla said gently. “I am useful during this time. Do not resent my presence.”

  “I wasn’t resenting it,” Madeline assured her. She laughed. “It will give us more to talk about when we don’t have anything else to do.” She glanced at Chacon. “But now that we’ve found you, sir, it’s still a question of rooting out your potential kidnappers and preventing them from doing their job.”

  “I agree,” Dtimun said. “Both of you must move into this hotel. In separate rooms,” he added with a pointed glance at Lyceria, who actually blushed.

  “The princess has nothing to fear from me in that regard,” Chacon assured Dtimun stiffly. “I know the law.”

  “So does he, but that doesn’t stop him from breaking it,” Madeline piped in.

  Dtimun shot her a hot glare. “You will refrain from speaking of me in such a manner.”

  “Oh, get real,” she muttered back. “What are you going to do, sir, put me on report and stick me in the brig?” She looked around. “Where are you going to find a brig on Benaski Port?”

  Dtimun’s lips made a thin line. “You can be confined to your room. There are master locks!”

  “And I can break out of windows!” she shot back with glittering green eyes.

  Lyceria, fascinated and amused, moved between them. “There is the matter of the kidnapping?” she reminded them.

  Madeline shifted on the sofa, still glowering at Dtimun, who was glaring at her. But they stopped arguing.

  All at once, Madeline gasped and touched her stomach. The child was not only moving, he was reproving her for fighting with his father. She stared at Dtimun, uncertain whether she should reveal the fact that she could communicate with the child in her womb.

  He moved closer, knelt and placed his hand on her swollen stomach. He smiled. Then he laughed. He glanced at Chacon and Lyceria. “He does not like it when his parents argue.”

  “He speaks to you?” Lyceria asked, fascinated.

  Dtimun nodded. He looked up at Madeline. She laughed.

  “Human babies don’t do this,” Madeline tried to explain. Then she thought of the regression and anguish overcame her.

  Dtimun touched his forehead to hers. “You must not think of these things. You must concentrate on why we are here. The rest will be sorted out in the future. You must trust me, as you always have.”

  She didn’t understand what he meant, but she didn’t argue. Her hand came up and smoothed the hair at his temple. It did, she thought, feel so much like thick fur....

  He pulled back, still smiling.

  * * *

  CHACON HAD MANY contacts among the underworld figures who inhabited Benaski Port. He took Dtimun with him to try to dig information out of them about his potential kidnapping. But even the friendliest of them knew nothing specific. There were rumors. But nothing more could be ascertained.

  “This is frustrating,” Dtimun muttered when they returned to the hotel.

  Chacon sighed. “I still find it difficult to believe that Chan Ho would resort to such a foolish act.”

 
“I can see his point of view,” the other alien remarked. “He would not dare have you killed. He would be immediately suspect, as the two of you have argued political viewpoints too often.”

  “It would be convenient for him if I vanished,” Chacon muttered. “He would rebuild Ahkmau and return the terror policies of Mangus Lo which I opposed for so many years.”

  “Your race’s political leaders leave much to be desired,” Dtimun said curtly.

  Chacon chuckled. “I will not return the accusation. Your government has a stability which is quite envied in the three galaxies.”

  “We can credit the emperor with that stability,” he mused. “Our provincial governors are capable and incorruptible, as well.”

  “Your emperor has held power for many years. What will happen when he steps down?” Chacon wondered aloud. “He has no heir.”

  Dtimun averted his eyes. “The Clan Alamantimichar is not without candidates.”

  “Yes, but it will take a strong hand to rule an empire.”

  Dtimun nodded. “The emperor has ruled for centuries. Considering his life span, I think it unlikely that he will need to abdicate in favor of an heir.” He said. “It is amusing to consider him in a retirement ward.”

  “That will never happen,” Chacon laughed.

  “I agree.” Dtimun sobered. “We still have no clue as to your potential kidnappers. This is frustrating.”

  Lyceria walked into the room and smiled at the two males. Sfilla was right behind her. “Have you found out something?” Lyceria asked.

  Chacon smiled at her. “You can read minds,” Chacon replied. “Perhaps if we walk through the bazaar and you focus your attention on the shops...?”

  Lyceria returned the smile. “It is not so easy to single out one individual’s thoughts from those of a crowd. Even for me.”

  Chacon sighed. “I could stand in the pavilion in the center of the city and wait for developments.”

  Dtimun shook his head. “Unwise.”

  “I do not like a threat hanging over my head.” His slitted eyes narrowed even more. “I will have Lieumek activate his spy network and see if he can determine a suspect.”

  “Can you think of an agent who would accept such an assignment?”

  Chacon frowned, deep in thought. “I know the head of our intelligence services. He and my family are linked through marriage. I might contact him.”

  “Do it covertly and do not tell him where you are,” the other advised quietly.

  Chacon laughed. “He can be trusted.”

  “No one can be trusted in such circumstances,” Dtimun said curtly.

  “Very well. But you are wrong about him.”

  “We shall see.”

  “If you please,” Sfilla interrupted, “let me use my sources before you commit to such an action.” Her expression was open, concerned.

  Chacon sighed. He looked at Dtimun, who nodded. “Very well. I will wait to contact him. For the moment.”

  “I will get to work at once,” Sfilla said. She even smiled.

  “She has a kind smile,” Chacon mused. “I imagine it would remain while she was slitting my throat.”

  “She is not sanctioned to murder you,” Dtimun chuckled.

  “For which, I thank providence,” the alien commander said.

  * * *

  LYCERIA WALKED OUT onto the balcony that overlooked the city, where Chacon stood quietly contemplating the neon lights that seemed to stretch forever toward the black horizon.

  He turned at her approach. “You cannot sleep, either,” he mused.

  She shrugged, smiling. “I do not sleep well in strange places.”

  He leaned back against the balcony and studied her with eyes that appreciated her long, flowing black hair, the way the soft blue robes clung to her slender figure. She was quite beautiful.

  She was also admiring him. He was tall and powerfully built. In his close fitting, black military uniform, he seemed larger than life. He was regal, in his way, a respected and envied commander whose strategies, like Dtimun’s, were taught in many cadet academies in the three galaxies.

  “We are unalike,” Chacon said abruptly as he studied her. “Much as Dtimun and Madeline.”

  She smiled. “Their differences are far greater. Our species are both Cularian.”

  He nodded. “It is a shame, about their child,” he remarked quietly. “I sense that they both want it very much.” He turned away. “I feel responsible. They took a great risk to save me.”

  “One they were quite willing to take,” she replied. “And there are things we are not permitted to know,” she added in a faintly amused tone.

  He glanced at her with mischievous eyes. “You can read minds,” he said suggestively.

  She nodded. “A great gift. But I will not trespass in Commander Dtimun’s thoughts to learn them. Telepathy can be abused.”

  “Not by you, my lady,” he replied gently.

  She stiffened. “Please do not address me so,” she pleaded. “I am not your superior.”

  “The daughter of an emperor,” he began.

  She reached up and put her soft fingers against his hard, chiseled mouth. “A female,” she whispered. “Just a female.”

  His whole body tautened at her touch. Since his first glimpse of her, on Enmehkmehk, his home planet, he had been consumed by his feelings for her. They seemed to intensify over the years. It had touched and flattered him that she returned them. In defiance of protocol and law, they had maintained contact throughout the war, covertly, managing to avoid detection even by the kehmatemer.

  “You are wondering how I escaped the scrutiny of the kehmatemer to come here,” she teased. She stepped closer. “You are also thinking that I am very desirable, and you wish I were not the child of an emperor.”

  “Stop,” he muttered, catching the hand that was smoothing over his dusky face. “You will tempt me into indiscretion, with witnesses in the next room.”

  She laughed, the sound of silver bells in the darkness. “They are too busy working on holographic weapon prototypes to notice us. Her competence as a military officer still fascinates me.”

  He laughed, too. “Ruszel is unique,” he mused. “He will fight to keep her, I think.”

  She traced a pattern on the black fabric that covered his broad chest. “Indeed he will.” She stared at his chest instead of his face. “As you fought your government, your emperor, to save my life at Ahkmau.”

  He recalled those early days with anger. Mangus Lo, the Rojok tyrant leader, had sent Lyceria to Ahkmau with instructions to torture her to death. When he knew her fate, Chacon took his personal bodyguard and decimated Mangus Lo’s personal guard to save her. In the process, he had saved Dtimun and Ruszel and the Holconcom.

  “Madeline was willing to sacrifice her life, to save Dtimun’s,” Lyceria murmured. “She almost died. Her feelings for him are intense.”

  “I think his are equally intense, for her,” he replied. “A shame that your government will put him to death if her condition becomes known.”

  Lyceria pursed her lips. “Our emperor is quite fascinated by Ruszel. I do not think he would permit her to be harmed.”

  He cocked his head. “How does he know her?”

  “The kehmatemer made her acquaintance on Ondar, under unusual circumstances. They talk about her constantly, especially Captain Rhemun, who leads the kehmatemer.” She laughed. “Rhemun’s heart is soft for her, which causes a hot and noticeable reaction on the part of the Holconcom commander.”

  “Cehn-Tahr mating behaviors are quite different from those of my race. Ours are less brutal,” he pointed out.

  Her eyes met his. “And I am like the rest of my race, intensely strong and resilient,” she said. “Ruszel had to be genetically modified to breed with my...w
ith Dtimun,” she corrected quickly. “Otherwise, she would certainly have died.”

  He frowned. “These genetic modifications are disturbing, even to my race. I wish that we had not tampered with our genome.”

  “Yes, I feel the same. An attempt to improve our race has caused great pain and suffering to generations of us.” She stared at him with gentle eyes. “At least you would not require genetic modification to breed with me,” she said boldly, and laughed at his expression.

  He did not smile. He looked away. “You are the child of an emperor. I am a soldier. One of my antecedents was a minor royal, but I have no claim to the aristocracy... Why are you laughing?” he snapped, offended.

  She moved closer and placed both hands over his chest. She could feel the hard, heavy beat of his heart in anger. “I mean no offense,” she said softly. “But you are too modest about your standing in your society. You are the most famous Rojok military leader in the history of the three galaxies. Your strategies are studied by cadets of every race, even those who are enemies of your people. You are respected, even admired, by leaders of opposing armies. Your reputation for even-handedness and fairness in battle is far-reaching.” She looked him in the eye. “You are the equivalent of Rojok royalty, even if you do not realize it. And my father is one of those who has great respect for you.”

  “Your father?” he asked, surprised.

  She nodded. She smiled. “You risked your life to go to Akaashe to bargain with the Nagaashe for Madeline’s release, as a negotiator. The emperor was quite impressed.”

  “Ruszel is human, not Cehn-Tahr,” he began.

  “Ruszel is being given Cehn-Tahr citizenship and a high military rank,” she said surprisingly. “She made possible a treaty with the Nagaashe, which our greatest negotiators have never managed to obtain. This is why your part in her rescue has gained the emperor’s favor.” She lowered her eyes to his chest. “I think he would not object if you wished to bond with me. Once the war is ended,” she added sadly. “Whenever that may be.”

  He was struck dumb by the remarks. He had not realized that the emperor even knew of him, except through battle vids. There had been no real contact between them except for a modified vidlink which distorted both the voice and the features of the imperial leader when Tnurat had asked him to go to Akaashe to negotiate for the release of Ruszel and her crew.