The Morcai Battalion: The Recruit. Diana Palmer

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      His eyes became solemn. “You have seen a greatly restrained version of our fighting style,” he said surprisingly. “We modified it for the benefit of our human crewmen.” He looked at her closely. “Why do you think our emperor was able to conquer over one hundred and fifty worlds with little more than the Holconcom?”

      That was a question she’d never asked. “I never thought about it, sir.”

      “Some races who were victims of his first conquests still remember the Holconcom attacks. The fear alone kept them in line. It does, even today.” His face grew hard. “We are an aggressive, violent species. Mercy is unknown to us.”

      “My little Altairian patient might disagree with you,” she said, smiling in memory.

      “The child was not my enemy,” he pointed out.

      She studied his hard face in silence. “Why don’t you want other races to know anything about your society?”

      “It would serve no useful purpose,” he said curtly. “We never mate outside our own species.”

      She felt cold inside. She wasn’t quick enough to divert her mind. He saw the sadness, and understood it all too well.

      His eyes narrowed. “You are a fragile race,” he said.

      She stared at him, uncomprehending. “I could remind you that I took down several Rojok soldiers when we were in Ahkmau.”

      “I could remind you that only Chacon’s intervention saved your life during the escape.”

      “Rub it in,” she muttered, flushing. “I was intent on saving a patient. I didn’t see the Rojoks rushing me.”

      “Your impulsive nature could lead you to tragedy,” he said. “You must exhibit more control of yourself.”

      “I do try, sir. But human nature is what it is. We can’t change what we are.”

      He grew contemplative. “No,” he said, an odd bitterness in his tone. “We cannot.”

      “About Mallory, sir...”

      “You can use the comps to give her a virtual tour of the ship,” he said firmly. “I do not need any more distractions aboard. You and your temper provide quite enough already.”

      “My temper?” she exclaimed. “Look who’s talking!”

      “Remember to whom you are speaking!” he shot back.

      “I didn’t break a Gresham in half with my bare hands when I lost my patience...!”

      “Dismissed!”

      She almost bit her tongue off keeping the reply back that she wanted to make. She saluted sharply, turned and marched out of the office. Behind her, she heard muffled curses in Cehn-Tahr, and marched faster.

      * * *

      LIEUTENANT (J.G.) EDRIS MALLORY’S expression was one of pure joy as she sipped the illegal caffeine in Madeline’s office. The use of stimulants, even natural ones, was prohibited by Tri-Fleet regulations. Not that anyone enforced the law, especially since Admiral Lawson himself sneaked in java from the Altairian colonies. Of course, he was an admiral and could get away with it. Madeline might not fare as well.

      Edris closed her eyes and savored the taste and scent as she lifted her head. “Oh, bliss,” she sighed.

      Madeline laughed. “It is pretty special, out here in the big black, isn’t it? We’re so far away from anything that can’t be grown in solution.” She sipped her own coffee. “I have to talk to you about something.”

      Edris grimaced. “I’ve screwed up again, haven’t I?” she asked. “I’m just not suited to life in our present age, you know. I washed out of combat school with a memorable low grade, after I couldn’t get accredited as a breeder. Now here I am doing combat medicine, and I fumble more than I fix...”

      “You’re doing well,” Madeline interrupted. “All you lack is confidence in your own abilities. Well, that,” she added hesitantly, “and the ability to talk back to people. To the Cehn-Tahr specifically.”

      The slender young blonde moved restlessly in her chair. “They’re very intimidating, especially the Holconcom commander,” she replied. “He glares.”

      “You have to learn to glare back,” Madeline told her. “They’re a misogynist culture. Their own women are denied access to the military, much less combat. The Cehn-Tahr think our military is mad to permit women to serve in it, mentally neutered or not.”

      Edris finished the last precious drop of her coffee. “I’m just glad it’s you and not me serving aboard the Morcai.”

      “That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Madeline told her. “Since Holmes and Watts shipped out, you and I are the only experienced Cularian specialists on base right now. There are twenty in graduate school, four of whom are due to be assigned to Trimerius when they graduate. But if something happens to me, you’re the only backup around.”

      “Nothing will happen to you, ma’am,” Edris assured her with a smile. “You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

      Madeline hesitated. “Anyone can die. The Holconcom can’t function without a medic who can operate on Cehn-Tahr soldiers in an emergency. The commander hates medics as a rule, and he won’t permit the Dectat to assign physicians to him. He’s reluctant to have me aboard, but Ahkmau convinced him that it was lunacy not to carry a Cularian specialist into battle.”

      “He scares me to death,” Edris commented, wrapping her arms around her slender figure. “I don’t know what I’d do, if I ever had to substitute for you in the Holconcom.”

      “That’s just the point. The commander agrees with me, that we need to start letting you come with us on certain missions aboard the Morcai so that you can get used to the routine aboard ship.” She deliberately didn’t meet Mallory’s eyes as she lied to her. It was in a good cause.

      Edris lost two shades of color. “No,” she said at once. “Oh, no, I can’t do that. I can barely manage here, when you’re away with the unit. I could never...I mean, I can’t...”

      “You can,” Madeline said, and in a tone that didn’t brook argument. “You got through medical school. You’ll adapt to the Morcai.”

      Edris bit her lower lip. She looked hunted.

      “They’re just men,” she said, exasperated. “Alien men, but males are pretty much the same anywhere.”

      “Not the Cehn-Tahr,” Edris argued. “I’ve heard stories.”

      Madeline raised both eyebrows.

      Edris hesitated, but the gossip was too juicy not to share. “They say,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “that a Cehn-Tahr soldier ate a young Jebob recruit during the Great Galaxy War...ma’am?”

      Madeline was doubled over, laughing. That story had gone through the ranks over the years like a fever. Some people did actually believe it.

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