by Diana Palmer
“It has been an ordeal for her,” Dtimun told Hahnson. “She will need rest and access to the herbs that Caneese made into a potion for her. Can you supply it?”
“Of course,” he said. He smiled at Madeline. “It becomes you.”
Madeline didn’t smile back. She was trying to muster enough courage to face the ordeal ahead. She straightened. “Strick, the sooner the procedure is done...!”
She stopped because Dtimun swung her up in his arms, turned and carried her down the corridor, to the amusement of their audience.
“This isn’t the way to sickbay,” she pointed out weakly.
“We are bonded. We live together.”
“Yes, but that’s what I’m trying to take care of, if you’ll just let me,” she protested, struggling.
“Desist,” he said without looking down at her. “You will upset the child.” He glanced at her as they reached his quarters and his eyes flashed green. “You might sing to him in that odd language.”
“It isn’t odd, it’s ancient French, from old Earth, and how did you know about that?” she asked, stunned.
He activated the door with his mind, walked through and closed it. “The child speaks to me.”
She caught her breath. She knew the child’s emotions, but she had no idea that Dtimun could communicate with his son on such an intelligent level. “No. It’s not possible, not at this stage of his growth.”
He put her down gently on the bunk and sat down beside her, smoothing her disheveled hair on the narrow pillow. “I assure you that it is.”
Tears stung her eyes. It was going to be more of an ordeal than she realized.
“It is time we spoke truth to each other,” he said quietly. “The child is not a secret. He is already known both to the emperor and the Dectat...”
“They’ll space you!” she burst out.
“They will not,” he said, and smiled. “He is the child of Ruszel, who can do no wrong in the emperor’s eyes.”
“But the emperor doesn’t know me. We’ve never met,” she said.
He bent and touched his forehead to hers. “The birth of the child will be eagerly anticipated, not only by my people, but by your people and the Nagaashe, as well.”
“My people will space me the minute they hear of it,” she retorted. “Ambassador Taylor will send troops all the way to Memcache to have me brought back...!”
“He would not dare,” he assured her.
The door opened. “That is true,” another voice inserted.
They both turned. The old fellow, with the kehmatemer right on his heels, entered the room. He was eating an apple with great enjoyment. Human fruit had been unknown to him until he encountered it on the Morcai. He waved the others away. Rhemun pursed his lips with faint amusement as Dtimun sent him a glare and an angry growl before the door closed, shutting them all out.
“You know about the baby,” Madeline said, aghast.
The old fellow grinned. “Of course. So does the Dectat. He is most eagerly anticipated.”
“But the law...” Madeline persisted.
“The Species Act was repealed two days ago,” he said easily. “In fact, it was repealed by acclamation, a rare instance of accord in my government. We felt, in view of your role in making a treaty with the Nagaashe, that it was the least we could do.”
“The inheritance laws,” Dtimun interrupted solemnly, “it will not matter to me if they still apply. I can serve the government as a military leader. I would prefer this, rather than give up my mate and my child.”
Madeline didn’t understand what he meant. How did one give up being an aristocrat?
The old fellow gave her an amused smile. “You do not understand what he is offering to give up for you. Later, it will make an impression. However,” he added, turning back to Dtimun, “such a sacrifice is not required. The inheritance laws were also changed.”
Dtimun’s eyebrows arched. “That is a surprise.”
The old fellow chuckled. “Indeed. But a pleasant one, I am certain.”
“There is another matter,” Dtimun said heavily. “Two of them, in fact.”
Madeline gave him a droll look. “He thinks that if I see him the way he really is, I’ll cut and run away, screaming, like human females in those old entertainment vids.” She frowned. “Did you share those ancient Earth vids with him, by any chance?” she asked the old fellow, teasing, because she already knew that he had.
He burst out laughing. “I did, in the distant past. Fortunately for you, neither of us is likely to give them any credit now, having seen you in combat.”
“Thanks.” She studied them. “Then what were you talking about?”
“Matters that must remain private, for now, I am afraid,” the old fellow replied. He turned to Dtimun. “You must tell her,” he said in Cehn-Tahr.
“Not yet,” Dtimun replied tersely. “I will show her, before I permit her to make a decision about remaining on Memcache. But as for the other...”
“She will cope,” the old fellow said with twinkling eyes.
Dtimun thought about that, and then relaxed. His own eyes went green as they turned to Madeline. “Yes,” he said in that same ancient tongue. “I believe she will. Magnificently.”
“That is what Komak told me.” The old fellow disposed of the apple core in a disintegrator unit and then pulled something from his pocket and showed it to Dtimun. “This is for the two of you,” he said, reverting to Standard so that Madeline could understand him, and his face was solemn. “It will come as a great shock, I think. I will keep it until the appropriate time. Komak instructed me not to give it to you until after the bonding ceremony.”
Dtimun frowned. “There has already been a bonding ceremony, before I touched Madeline...”
“A public one,” the old fellow interrupted. “And soon,” he added firmly.
Dtimun’s jaw hardened. “This is too soon. I am not ready.”
The old fellow put a hand on his shoulder. “None of us is ever ready, when the time comes. Do you think I was, when my command duties were finished and I was forced to become a politician rather than a soldier? Do you think your mother was, when she left her quiet village and was required to become a public figure?”
Madeline, listening, was puzzled. Dtimun had never spoken to her of his mother, although she had suspicions about his relationship with the old one, here.
Dtimun glanced at Madeline. “It will be a different life than you envision,” he said quietly.
She looked at him with eyes that worshipped him. “I’d live in a fishing village with you and sew garments with my own hands, if it was required of me.”
Dtimun laughed. So did the old fellow. “So would I, with you,” he said gently. He glanced at the old one. “She actually tried to get me to abandon her and leave the Rojok camp when they were preparing to execute us,” he said.
The old fellow gave her an amused look. “She would certainly have agreed to abandon you, were the circumstances reversed,” he said with some irony.
She glared at him. “He’s one of our greatest strategists,” she pointed out. “I was expendable.”
“Not to me,” Dtimun replied, smiling warmly.
“Nor to me, or your mother.”
Madeline was really frowning now, all at sea.
“I am his father, as you have probably guessed by now,” the old fellow told her gently. “And Caneese is his mother.”
Madeline’s face became radiant. “Really?”
The old fellow nodded. “The two of us have been sharing secrets that Komak was kind enough to relate.”
“Secrets?” Dtimun frowned. “Of what sort?”
The old one nodded toward the disc before he put it back in the pocket of his uniform. “Of a surprising nature. I will say no more abou
t it. But you must wait until after the ceremony to view it.”
They both looked apprehensively at each other.
“It is a happy secret,” the old fellow said, smiling.
“Oh. Okay,” Madeline replied.
“Tragedies have separated us,” the older alien told the younger one. “But I hope that your child will mend many wounds.”
Dtimun moved forward hesitantly, and put his own hand on his father’s shoulder. “I deeply regret my own actions,” he said slowly. “I allowed a misconception to place a drawn sword between us.”
The old one smiled gently. “Our battles have been memorable. Some have been amusing.” His eyes flashed green as he reverted to the ancient Cehn-Tahr tongue to add, “Your order to the Holconcom to refrain from saluting me has been a source of great hilarity among the kehmatemer.”
Dtimun shifted, self-conscious. “That was regrettable.”
“Lokar offered you a medal for taking the life of your brother,” the old fellow said sadly in Standard. “I tried to stop him, but I was too late. The Jebob have an odd mind-set about war, as you know.”
“I do know. Now.”
“I had hoped that you could reason with your brother, that he would listen to you and turn away from the fanatics,” the older alien replied. “He was closer to you than to the rest of us. I did not know, I could not have known, that he would force your hand in such a manner as to leave scars on your heart.”
Dtimun’s jaw clenched. “Nor did I. I also blamed you for that,” he said heavily. He shook his head. “Two brothers, dead, years of cold separation between us, between you and Caneese. So many sorrows.”
“Yes. They have been greater for Caneese than for either of us, as well. Her own life has been a series of tragedies, beginning with her family’s attitude toward her.”
Dtimun glanced at Madeline. “They opposed her desire for higher education. They had, as many of our people had, great prejudices against females in any role that was nontraditional.”
Madeline nodded. “I’m a pioneer, I am,” she quipped, and then had to explain what a pioneer was, and where the expression came from.
“The Dectat has made you a brigadier general,” the old one told her, and grinned at her shock. “They have also given you full citizenship and you will receive the highest military award we can tender, for your part in the Nagaashe treaty as well as saving the life of Princess Lyceria. For the second time,” he added drolly.
“I’m very grateful, for all that. But the first was an accident,” she said. “And saving the princess was a pleasure.”
Something made both sets of alien eyes flash green.
“You’re keeping something from me,” she said suspiciously.
“Many things, in fact.”
She gave the commander a sly look. “So, do I outrank you now?” she asked with a grin.
He laughed. “No.”
“Oh, well,” she sighed. She put her hand on the mound of her belly. “I’m so glad that we don’t have to regress him,” she said softly. “I would have mourned for the rest of my life, even with the mind wipe.”
Dtimun touched her cheek and laid his forehead against hers. “As would I.”
“I will arrange the ceremony. But you should have a few days to recover from this latest ordeal, first,” the old one told them. “Meanwhile, there is gossip that Chacon is gathering forces to overthrow Chan Ho,” he added.
“A dangerous play,” Dtimun remarked.
“Ah, but he has allies. A million mercenaries have hired on with his troops to join in the fight, all campaign veterans from other armies.” He leaned forward. “And the rumor is that some of them are Cehn-Tahr!”
Dtimun and Madeline chuckled. Things were looking up. “I think Komak may have been right about the necessity for saving Chacon,” Madeline said. “If he overthrows the tyrant, he’ll become the political as well as military leader of the Rojok forces. Perhaps there will be peace.”
“There will be,” the old one agreed. He beamed at them. “Take great care of each other, and my grandchild. I will see you both again at the bonding ceremony. But I was never here,” he added firmly. “You did not see me aboard the Morcai. And you have no idea how the Nagaashe learned of your plight and rushed to assist you.”
Madeline put her hand over her heart. “Sir, you are a figment of my imagination. I swear.”
He laughed. He turned and embraced his son, for the first time in decades, delighted that the embrace was returned.
“Farewell,” he told them as he left.
Madeline looked up at Dtimun with such joy that she was almost breathless from it. But a hint of her old audacity remained. She pursed her lips. “I want a battalion of female troops,” she told him.
He actually groaned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MEMCACHE WAS AS green and beautiful as Madeline remembered it. She was happier than she’d ever been in her life, now that there was a future with the commander. Although, many things were still hidden from her.
“You and your father were saying something you didn’t want me to understand,” she said when they were sprawled on the grass with Rognan the Meg-Raven and Kanthor, the galot, who were maintaining a grudging peace.
“Yes,” he replied. He drew in a long breath. “You have not seen me yet, as I truly appear.”
“I have.”
He frowned. “I would have seen it in your mind.”
She smiled secretively. “Sfilla knows how to block people. I didn’t even know she was a telepath until we were on the way to Benaski Port. I didn’t tell her why I wanted to know, but she taught me.” She grimaced. “I thought I’d be going back to active duty after the mission, and that you’d worry that I might tell somebody about what the Cehn-Tahr truly looked like. I didn’t want you to worry.” She searched his eyes. “The Cehn-Tahr keep so many secrets.”
“We have felt that we must.” His eyes narrowed. “When did you see me?”
“The night I was restless, pacing the halls and you called me into your room with you. I woke in the middle of the night. The sensor net is weakened when you sleep, isn’t it?”
He nodded, frowning. He was remembering that he woke in the night, too, and found her curled up against him. Now he understood.
He drew in a long breath. “I was afraid that you would find my true appearance distasteful. I would have had to live with the memory of it all my life. And when the child was born, he would have no camouflage, so you would have seen my true face in him. That was one reason I did not oppose, at first, your idea to regress him.”
“A very timid reaction from a soldier who has faced death so many times,” she said drolly.
He smiled. “Yes. But your opinion has always been important to me. No other has ever carried such weight.”
She rolled over onto her side, grimacing because the growth spurts were coming closer together and she was uncomfortable. “I don’t find anything about you distasteful. I never could.”
He stared at her for a minute, deep in thought. Finally, with visible reluctance, he touched a spot on his wrist.
The being lying beside her was enormous. He was tall and muscular, far bigger than any human male. His fingers were shorter, broader, his hands bigger than they had appeared. He had a long black mane around his handsome face. His nose was a little broader than a human’s. But otherwise, he looked just as he always had.
She only smiled. He relaxed and touched her face gently.
“You have no fear of me.”
“Of course not. I think you look quite handsome,” she replied, her eyes warm with affection. She curled into his body and slid her arms around his neck. “I always did, even when it was against regulations.”
He drew her close, embracing her hungrily, his face buried in her throat
. “I never thought to have such feelings again for a female. I fought them.”
“I noticed.”
He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I still keep secrets. This is not the only one.”
“Your father said I’d cope. I will.”
He closed his eyes. “Yes. You will.”
She drew back and looked up at him curiously. “There’s just one other thing.”
“What?”
She pulled the fabric away from her collarbone and indicated the way he’d marked her. “Women comment on this. They giggle but they won’t say why. What does it mean?”
He traced it lightly with his forefinger. His eyes were that soft, incredible shade of gold that indicated great affection. “It is our symbol for infinity. When a male marks a female with it, the symbol becomes a solemn pledge. It is a promise of fidelity. It indicates that regardless of the time we have together, I will never take another mate.”
She was shocked. “But...but your life span is so much longer than that of a human. You could live for a century or more after I die,” she protested.
He nodded. His eyes searched hers intently.
“You said you were fond of me,” she stammered and her voice broke.
He smiled. “I am.” He traced her eyebrows.
She was speechless. What he was saying indicated a feeling much more intense than simple affection.
“Komak’s injection may have unknown effects in the future,” he added gently. “We do not know how long you will live, but Komak said that you are still alive in his time, far in the future. Your lifespan may equal my own. It does not matter, however,” he told her. “I will never mate again. I meant what I said, when the Rojoks came to kill us on Dacerius.” His face tautened with emotion. “I will not live without you.”
She burst into tears and held him very close.
His arms enfolded her. He buried his face in her throat with a rough growl. “I did not wish this to happen,” he confessed. “I did not want to be vulnerable again.”
She smiled through her tears. “I can understand that. You loved the Dacerian woman...”
