The Morcai Battalion: The Rescue

“We revere Chacon,” he said heavily. “It grieves me that he joined the Empire with that of the Cehn-Tahr.” He did not add that Chacon was a relative of his. It had saddened him to oppose the field marshal on this issue.

“It was to prevent the war from spreading,” she said simply, “and claiming even more lives on both sides of the conflict. He sits in council now with the Tri-Galaxy and has a powerful voice in making policy. He will see to it that planets in the New Territory are shared equally between all worlds, including Enmehkmehk, your own homeworld.”

He touched his stomach. “I feel the mending,” he said, surprised.

She smiled. “We have powerful medicines, and even more powerful instruments.” She closed her wrist scanner. Its drug banks were empty now.

The commander of the small unit got to his feet with a little effort, stood erect, towering over Edris, and managed a smile. “Thank you.”

She smiled back. “Saving lives is an obligation, not a kindness,” she said, quoting Dtimun, the emperor’s son who had led the Holconcom for many years.

They moved outside, and suddenly the entire camp was on alert. A red blur materialized beside Edris with his big hand around the throat of the Rojok commander. Rhemun!

“No!” She jumped between them, pushing at Rhemun’s broad chest. She grimaced at the pain. Rhemun, shocked, let go of the Rojok. Edris moved between the two aliens, to shield the Rojok with her own small body. “No, he’s a friend! I just saved his life. Don’t you dare kill him!”

Rhemun gaped at her. She’d just spoken to him unthinkingly in the dialect the Rojoks used, the ancient tongue, which he spoke but no human ever had.

The Rojok commander laughed. “So everything written of the Cehn-Tahr Holconcom is true, I see,” he mused. “Such speed is almost impossible to believe, unseen.”

Rhemun nodded solemnly. “This is almost never seen outside a battlefield. Why is my medic here?”

The commander’s lieutenant moved forward. “We brought her to treat our officer,” he said. “She speaks the ancient tongue,” he added with faint reverence.

“So I see.” Rhemun lifted both eyebrows. “Impressive,” he added, almost reluctantly.

“Odd that your commander would allow her to wander around hostile, contested territory alone,” the older commander remarked, obviously not recognizing that Rhemun was the commander. Holconcon leaders never wore rank insignia.

“He had no knowledge of her deployment,” Rhemun replied. “I came in search of her.” He didn’t add that Mallory’s absence from the camp had first annoyed him, and then concerned him, as she’d gone in the direction of a suspected Rojok camp. Instead of deploying someone to check on her, he’d come himself. He didn’t dare examine that thought too closely.

“I wasn’t supposed to come alone,” Edris told the Rojok with a grimace. “I suppose I’ll be stood against a wall and shot for insubordination.”

The Rojok commander laughed.

“I thank you for my life,” the Rojok told her gently, and smiled. “We will tell tales of you around campfires.”

“You honor me, when I am unworthy,” she said, in the same ancient tongue.

He only smiled. He sighed as he looked at Rhemun. “Perhaps the old ones are right, and Chacon’s government will be one to support.” He shrugged. “My men and I will surrender ourselves and hope for clemency.”

“I can tell you from my own experience that Chacon is the most fair-minded of military leaders,” Rhemun told him. “He does not punish idealism.”

The Rojok smiled secretly. He did not share his affiliation with the new head of the Rojok government. The Rojok bowed formally. So did Rhemun.

“May I know your name?” he asked the little blonde human.

She managed a faint smile for him. “Dr. Edris Mallory.”

He made a stab at pronouncing it, which widened the smile.

“That’s close enough,” she said, encouraging him.

“My name is Soltok,” he replied. “I will remember you.”

“I will remember you.” It was a formal leave-taking.

The men saluted her and Rhemun. The salutes were returned. The human and the Cehn-Tahr left the camp, walking.

When they were far enough down the dirt trail to be out of earshot, Rhemun glared at her. “I gave strict orders that no one was to do foot searches down here,” he said curtly.

“Sorry, sir,” she said, and managed a salute. “There was a wounded person. I recognized the physiology as Cularian. I didn’t realize it was a Rojok. Nobody had seen Mekashe and I thought it might be him. The sensors weren’t working properly...” She stopped walking, grimaced and caught her breath. There was a lot of pain. She felt unsteady on her feet.

Her remark about Mekashe had caught him on the raw. He didn’t like her affection for his friend. He would have said something about it but her gasp caught his attention. “I smell blood,” he exclaimed, turning to her. “And cauterized flesh.”

She drew in a breath and went to sit on a large boulder beside the trail. “I was shot with a chasat.”

“What?”

She held up a hand, because he was looking back in the direction of the Rojok camp with fiery intent. “They saw the uniform and fired first. Having seen you appear in their camp the way you did, I wouldn’t have blamed them for shooting first. Holconcom have a fierce reputation among soldiers, and I don’t wear a medical insignia that’s visible at a distance. Something I’m going to recommend change for,” she added.

“How bad is it?”

She swallowed. “I made running repairs. I think I may have some minor internal damage. I have nothing left in my medical banks. I used it all on the Rojok officer.”

He drew in a rough breath. “I can carry you to the ship,” he said.

She held up a hand. “No!”

He scowled, waiting for an explanation.

“I know that the commander doesn’t find anything attractive about me, however, I am bleeding,” she pointed out. “Even if I make a breach in protocol by mentioning it, if you come in contact with my blood, it could...” She bit her tongue. She was going to catch hell anyway, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

He lifted his chin. He was angry that she’d dared to say anything to him about intimate Cehn-Tahr behaviors. They were not discussed even between males, unless they shared Clan affiliation. Even then, it required at least family status.

Here she was, an outworlder, a human, presuming to lecture him on the dangers of touching her. And not for the first time. She’d made the same remark when he started to carry her across the chasm on an earlier mission. The trouble was, she was right. That made it worse.

He rubbed the crystal on his comm ring and Hahnson appeared.

“Mallory is wounded. I cannot touch her. This is our position. Make haste.” He cut the communication and glared at Mallory.

“Sir, it’s not my fault,” she said, trying to stand at attention. “I was made aware of certain things during my time on Memcache when Dr. Ruszel delivered her son. I learned by things I overheard. I did not pry or ask questions.”

He looked down his nose at her. She was in obvious pain and he felt guilty that he didn’t just swing her up in his arms and run with her back to the refugee camp. However, she was correct. The scent of her pheromones was already disturbing. If he touched her, if he came in contact with her blood, it would almost certainly provoke a mating behavior. It was more dangerous than coming into contact with just her skin. It made him angry that she knew.

“We do not discuss such things, even among ourselves,” he snapped.

“Yes, sir. I know that, sir. I’m very...sorry, sir.” Her voice was getting weaker.

He rubbed the crystal again. “Hahnson, where the hell are you?” he demanded, sounding so much like Dtimun in a temper that Edris just stared at him.

“Five clicks away. Four. Three,” Hahnson was counting.

Two seconds later, he landed in one of the small scout ships, piloted by Ensign Jones. “Hold it there,” he told Jones. “We’ll be right in.”

He ran to Edris, examined her and grimaced. “You have a knack for accidents,” he pointed out as he extricated his tools from his wrist unit. “You couldn’t treat this yourself?”

“Used up all my meds treating a renegade Rojok.”

“And they shot you?” Hahnson added coldly. “Some gratitude!”

“His men shot me when they saw the uniform, Doc,” she replied, wincing. “We need bigger medical devices on our uniforms...”

“I’ll put in a suggestion. Hold still.”

He had to go close to work on her. Rhemun turned away. It was incomprehensible that he suddenly wanted to throttle Hahnson. A growl rose in his throat. He suppressed it by activating his comm ring and trying to get a message through to the crew at the refugee camp.

“All fixed.” Hahnson chuckled. He hadn’t noticed Rhemun’s strange behavior or he might have remarked on it.

Edris got to her feet and drew in a long sweet breath. “Thanks,” she said warmly.

“Back to the camp,” Rhemun said icily, and gestured them toward the ship.

Mekashe was waiting at one of the preformed huts. He grinned when Mallory came into view. “You went looking for me,” he exclaimed with a laugh. “You thought I was wounded and you were concerned?”

“She was wounded looking for you,” Rhemun snapped. “A loss of time and efficiency.” He glared at Mallory. “Your department would benefit from the same drills I require of command line soldiers. I’ll initiate them when we’re back aboard.” He turned to Mekashe. “We have no time for pleasant conversation.”

“Yes, sir,” Mekashe said, saluting. But he had green eyes when he glanced at Edris.

She only nodded. She didn’t want to see any more of the commander’s temper. She was uneasy enough already. He didn’t want Mekashe around her. She’d have to find a kinder way to deter his friendliness.

CHAPTER FOUR

EDRIS CONTINUED TO use the hormone suppressant that Hahnson had prescribed for her, but ironically, it seemed to increase the hunger she felt when she saw her commanding officer. It was much worse after her experience on Ondar, saving the Rojok commander. It had irritated Rhemun that she knew so much about his culture’s intimate behaviors. Which didn’t help his attitude toward her; it grew more acrimonious by the day.

His temper was unpredictable, and it escalated. He infuriated the human crew members by assigning them to off-duty education programs, reducing the already-small recreational time they were permitted by over half.

Stern, on behalf of the rest of the crew, protested.

“If you find the tasks aboard a Cehn-Tahr vessel too arduous, Captain,” Rhemun said with faint contempt, “perhaps you would be more content to return to a Terravegan brigade.”

Stern stared at his superior officer with cold eyes. “As I’m certain you already know, Commander,” he said with quiet pride, “I would be used for spare parts, in such case.”

“No military body would tolerate such abuse of its personnel,” Rhemun discounted it. “You exaggerate.”

“I assure you, it is no exaggeration of the facts,” Stern replied. “Perhaps you might ask Commander Dtimun to acquaint you with Terravegan military protocols.”

Rhemun lifted his chin. “I command the Holconcom. Not Dtimun.”

“I know. Sir.” The words conveyed enormous disdain.

“The adjunct educational requirements will be met. Or else. Dismissed!”

Stern saluted and went back to his friends, who were waiting for him in one of the storage areas.

Hahnson activated his white ball. “What did he say? Do we still have to do it?”

Stern nodded. “He’s just looking for ways to provoke us. It’s obvious we don’t need retraining in our respective professions. There’s not even that much new tech to learn, besides that nightmare of an updated astrogation program he dragged me through. Even that isn’t much of an improvement over the software we’re already using, as far as I can see.” He huffed. “Listen, the guy’s a ground pounder,” he said shortly. “He led the emperor’s bodyguard. Great job, he was good at it, but this is the space marines! If anybody needs retraining in his damned profession, it’s him!”

“No argument there,” Hahnson said. “He’s grinding poor Mallory into the ground, for sure. He goes out of his way to stand on her.”

“I noticed that,” Stern replied. “He’s baiting all of us, hoping to start a fight so he can kick us out of the Holconcom.”

“It does seem that way,” engineering exec Higgins said.

“Certainly does,” Chief Communications Officer Jennings seconded. “He’s ticked off most of the comm department with his new requirements and duty stations. Like he knows how to run a starship!”

“How the hell did he end up with Dtimun’s command, anyway?” Stern wanted to know.

“Each military position has a Clan requirement,” Hahnson said. “That’s all I know, so don’t start asking more questions. He was obviously next in line for this post so he got it. End of story.”

“Suppose we pretend we don’t know Dtimun is the emperor’s son.” Stern grinned. “Would they give him back to us?”

“Fat chance. He’s got a son now.” Hahnson chuckled. “He’s not going off into space combat, not if Maddie Ruszel has anything to say about it.”

“Well, back to the subject at hand. Just how long do you think we can hang on here?” Higgins asked Stern. “I mean, he’s going out of his way to push us. He wants us off the ship!”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but he’s right,” Jennings seconded. “He couldn’t make it much plainer.”

“It’s still early days,” Strick Hahnson commented. “He’s not used to a combined command, and he has deep prejudices against humans. He was thrown in headfirst when Dtimun’s real identity as the emperor’s son was divulged. He’d commanded the kehmatemer, the emperor’s bodyguard, for decades. He can’t be much happier than we are.”

“The difference is that he’s in command and we’ve got targets painted on our chests,” Jennings pointed out. “The commander, even when he was furious, never treated us humans any different than the Cehn-Tahr crew members.”

“We went through hell with the commander,” Stern pointed out quietly. “Nobody who lived through Ahkmau could ever tolerate racial prejudice again.”

“That’s true,” Hahnson had to concede.

“The commander saved us all,” Higgins agreed. “What a hell of a rescue it was, too.” He chuckled. “Do you remember how he came walking aboard the Morcai with Mangus Lo over his shoulder?”

“Yeah—” Jennings grinned “—and the way he walked all over Admiral Lawson to get us transferred to the Holconcom, and then led us out of the admiral’s office while he was still in midtirade?”

“Nobody else in the three galaxies like the commander,” Higgins said with pure nostalgia. “What a hell of a commanding officer!”

Stern sighed. “Good days.”

“Never to be lived again,” Jennings lamented.

There was a long silence.

“So, what do we do?” Higgins asked Stern.

Holt Stern’s black eyes were sad. “We hold on for a little while longer, to see if things get any better.”

“And then?” Higgins prompted.

Stern looked at him evenly. “You guys can go back to the Terravegan military without a single black mark on your records. The emperor would go to bat for you.”

“Yeah, but you can’t,” Jennings said. “I’m not going without you, sir.”

“Nor I,” Higgins added.

Hahnson held up his hand and grinned. “Matched set. Can’t break it up, Holt.”

Holt swallowed, hard. “Well, we’ll see how things go.”

They all nodded.

* * *

SO THE OFFICERS and crew, the human ones, went back to school, in a sense, during their off-duty hours. They grumbled, and nobody saw the sense in it. Rhemun ignored them. He’d never hated a posting so much. He even queried the emperor about returning him to the bodyguard unit, but without success.

He was angry, and he took it out on the humans. In all his life, he’d never been forced into a situation he hated as much—well, possibly once. That disgusting, ambitious female and her covert knowledge of herbs that provoked the mating cycle...

He turned his thoughts away from that pride-wrecking memory and the painful ones that followed it. He felt like a trapped animal, hating his surroundings and those he shared them with. But there was no recourse. He would have to cope, somehow.

* * *

MALLORY WAS SLOWLY regaining her self-respect, and the memory of the man she killed was fading into a still-painful but less haunting one. Meanwhile, she was developing a whole new set of problems.

Her interest in her commanding officer was growing. It had nothing to feed on. He hated her and made no secret of it. But her heart jumped whenever she looked at him. The hormone suppressants were working, after a fashion. But even if he couldn’t smell the pheromones, he could certainly detect her racing pulse and shallow breathing when she was close to him.

It didn’t make her life easier. He found new ways to annoy her, picking out flaws in her inventory system, dwelling on past mistakes. His newest requirement entailed noting every single injury ever suffered by Cehn-Tahr aboard the Morcai into a file.

* * *

IT HAD TAKEN two days, but she managed it. She was on her way to present it to him when Btnu stopped by, complaining of a headache that refused to go away.

She was very fond of the Morcai’s executive officer—Rhemun had replaced Stern with Btnu in that position—but she couldn’t do invasive tests without permission from her commanding officer, Rhemun.

“It will take a little time to arrange,” she said gently, and smiled. “I’ll just speak to the commander about it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mallory.” He hesitated. “I was also distraught when I killed for the first time. He was a Rojok, and we were at war, but my conscience was damaged,” he said slowly. “I understand the difficulty. We are taught in our culture never to take life, but when we are in the military we are expected to do what is necessary.” He smiled. “It is never easy.”

“No. It never is. Thank you for sharing that,” she said. “It’s nice to know that some of you don’t hate us because we’re human,” she couldn’t help adding with some bitterness.

Btnu looked concerned. “You do not know, about him, about his past,” he said softly. “There is a reason.”

“We didn’t do anything,” she pointed out.

He sighed. “I know, Dr. Mallory. But you do not know. I wish that I could tell you. It is not my secret to tell.”

“You’re a nice man.”

He made a sound like human laughter. “Not a man.”

“You’re a nice Cehn-Tahr,” she corrected, and grinned.

He chuckled. “The commander is working out with the Kahn-Bo. He and Mekashe are in the gymnasium.” He leaned down. “Mekashe is better, but only a little.” He rose back up. “Do not tell him that I said so.”

“Not to worry. I’m usually listening, not talking.” Which was true. She rarely got a word in edgewise these days.

She closed the cubicle and went looking for the commander.

* * *

RHEMUN AND MEKASHE were locked in a heated struggle with the Kahn-Bo sticks. Rhemun was laughing as he applied all his strength to block the other alien’s attack.

Mallory, her eyes on the padd, came into the cubicle and stopped dead when she noticed the intensity of the mock combat. She was shocked at the feelings the sight of her commander stripped to the waist engendered in her. She felt her heartbeat rocket as she watched the play of muscle in his massive chest and arms as he struggled with the other alien. His skin was pale gold, flawless. There was a thick wedge of curling black hair that ran down his broad chest to his abdomen. His spine displayed a thin band of fur that ran its length, barely visible above his waist where the flowing black curls of his hair draped in violent contrast to the golden skin.

He was laughing. He enjoyed a fight. The feline features of his face eclipsed into something almost human as his white teeth were displayed.

* * *

HE WAS, SHE THOUGHT, the most beautiful, magnificent creature she’d ever seen in her life.

As her mind worked, he suddenly stopped laughing and turned. His demeanor changed instantly. He lifted his chin. “Yes, Doctor Mallory?” he asked curtly.

She swallowed down the helpless awe and approached him with her eyes lowered. “Btnu requires an invasive scan,” she explained in a subdued tone. “I can’t do the procedure without your authorization.”

“An invasive scan for what, exactly?” he snapped.

She held out the virtual comp. Her hands were shaking. He took it from her with something bordering on contempt and studied it.

“What did he do, swallow down a cerat whole?” Mekashe asked on a chuckle, referring to the small furry mammals that the Cehn-Tahr sometimes consumed for a protein jolt.

“He’s complaining of violent headaches,” she said, and managed a smile for him. “Nothing major, we just want to avoid problems down the line.”

Mekashe cocked his head and studied her. The little human female was enticing, in many ways.

Rhemun became aware of his interest. It should not have disturbed him. He hated humans. He glanced at his friend. “We shall have to postpone the match.”

“You are hoping that I will lose my edge over time,” Mekache teased. “I will not.”

“We will see,” Rhemun replied.

“I will return to my duties. Sir. Dr. Mallory,” he added in a soft, almost-purring tone, which earned him a cold glare from his commander.

He left the chamber, chuckling to himself.

Rhemun signed the virtual order and handed it back to Mallory. His nostrils processed the strong scent of pheromones that was issuing from her body. His jaw tautened.

“I find your interest offensive,” he said coldly.

She had forgotten his olfactory superiority. She grimaced. “Sir...”

“You are human,” he said, making almost an insult of the words. “Near the end of the Great Galaxy War, I had my young son moved to a military school in a system outlying the Megorian Sector.” He waited for that impact on the small human. It seemed to stun her. “A female human pilot was playing some virtual vid with two companions on the nexus when she was ordered to use her strategic weapons on a Rojok emplacement. She mistook the target and dropped the entire cargo on the military academy. My son was incinerated in a flash.”

Mallory’s lips fell open. Her mind was on overdrive. He had lost a son. He was bonded to a female. She had been watching him, hoping for some sign of his interest, and all the time, he was in a relationship. He had a child who had died. She was ashamed of her behavior and her feelings for him. She had thought he was, like most of the Cehn-Tahr in the Holconcom, a solitary male.

* * *

HE SAW HER emotions clearly. He felt them. He lifted his chin. His eyes were dark with anger. “The human female was small, with blond hair and blue eyes. Like you.”

She felt those words all the way to the soles of her feet. She looked at him with helpless comprehension. “I’m so sorry,” she said huskily. “So very sorry, for you, and your mate.”

He ignored the comment. “She was tried, court-martialed. But she was not punished. My government protested. It did no good. She killed my son and never paid for it!”

That was unusual. The Terravegan military was overly sensitive to such issues. But it had been long ago. Perhaps the law had been different then.

“Since I first saw you, when the emperor arrived aboard to help save Ruszel’s life, I have felt nothing but revulsion,” Rhemun emphasized, the injustice of the past making his tone harsh and cold. “Your continued presence aboard the Morcai is a constant reminder of the tragedy. I look at you and see the murderer of my son!”

Mallory had only basic psych training from the Tri-Fleet Medical Academy, but she understood what was happening. Rhemun had been unable to avenge the death of his child. The murderer was out of reach. But Mallory, who resembled her, wasn’t. Much became clear in her mind. His continued antagonism, his constant criticism of her slowness, her ineptitude—now it made sense. It wasn’t her skill or lack of it that prompted his distaste. It was a personal tragedy. Mallory was being made to pay for a crime she had never committed. She had no defense. Her soft blue eyes searched his angry ones and she saw secret dreams fall to dust there.