The Morcai Battalion: The Pursuit. Diana Palmer

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      “Your eyes changed color again,” she remarked, fascinated. “You aren’t angry?” she added worriedly, because he’d said that brown meant anger.

      He chuckled, or what substituted for laughter in a Cehn-Tahr. “Yes. The colors can become confusing when several emotions are involved.” He nodded toward a door to avoid telling her that the soft brown meant affection. It was too soon for that. “I am not angry. The colors are more complicated than I can explain to you at the moment. The dining room is through here,” he said, diverting her.

      “I forgot to tell you my name. I’m Jasmine. Jasmine Dupont. Our ancestry, they say, is French, from ancient Earth. It’s where all Terravegans come from.”

      “I am called Mekashe.” He gave it the formal pronunciation.

      “Mekashe.” She flushed a little as she said it, and smiled delightedly. She hesitated. “Would you like to meet Daddy?” she blurted out, and flushed again, a darker pink. “I mean, if you’d like to, if I’m not imposing...”

      “I should like it very much. Jasmine.” He made her name sound exotic, foreign, thrilling.

      She laughed. “Thank you...?” She hesitated, afraid that she was going to mess up the pronunciation.

      “Mekashe,” he repeated slowly. He gave it the pronunciation that a stranger would use on Memcache, because names were pronounced in many different ways among the Cehn-Tahr, depending on length of relationship, Clan status, position and so forth.

      “Mekashe.” She studied his strong, handsome face. “Do names have meanings among your people? I mean, my name is that of a flower on Terravega.”

      Even more fascinating. She reminded him of a flower, delicate and beautiful. “They do,” he replied. “I was born on the day of a great battle, which ended well for my people. My name, among my own people, translates as ‘He of the warrior blood.’”

      “Oh.” She hated the military, but she wouldn’t mention that, not when she found him so attractive. She laughed then, lightening his expression. “I love it!”

      He cocked his head. He smiled. She entranced him.

      They stood staring at each other until another passenger came barreling out the door and almost collided with them. Jasmine staggered, but he didn’t reach out to steady her. He ground his teeth together. If he touched her, even in an innocent way, it might trigger a mating behavior—especially considering the attraction he already felt. He saw her mild surprise at his lack of help, and he grimaced. He wasn’t even allowed to explain it to her. One didn’t elaborate on intimate customs among outworlders.

      “There are reasons for my actions,” he said, compromising. “I wish I could explain. But I can’t.”

      “You aren’t allowed to touch human females. Right?” she asked with certainty.

      His eyebrows arched almost to his hairline.

      She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Daddy says I’m always putting my foot into my mouth, figuratively speaking. I just plow right in, instead of thinking about what I’m saying. I sometimes offend people because I’m so impulsive.”

      “I’m not offended,” he said gently, and smiled. “But I can’t confirm or deny your supposition.”

      She laughed softly. Her blue eyes sparkled like jewels. “Okay.”

      She turned, reluctantly, and led the way into the dining room.

      It was vast and like a maze. There were booths, formal tables and a bar all sharing the same general open space. Jasmine’s father was seated at a formal, small table near the wall where the bubble port opened onto glorious space. A comet was passing by and her father had touched the viewscreen that doubled as a force shield, to magnify the comet in order to study it.

      “He loves space,” she told Mekashe as they walked. “He wanted to be a starship commander, but his health was bad. Back when he was a child, genetic engineering was out of fashion, so he had a bad heart and poor eyesight. He still has both. I’m afraid he doesn’t move with the times at all. I do worry about him.”

      Mekashe was even more curious now.

      Malford Dupont was forty-two, thin and graying, with a receding hairline and a stubborn chin. He seemed fascinated with the comet and oblivious to the two people approaching his table.

      “Daddy?” Jasmine called softly.

      His head jerked toward her and he blinked. He laughed. “Sorry, I find the comet absolutely fascinating. This tech is beyond anything I’ve ever known,” he added, indicating the many functions of the screen that permitted magnification of space objects. His eyebrows lifted as he noted his daughter’s companion.

      “I got lost, again.” Jasmine laughed. She looked up. “Mekashe helped me find my way here. Mekashe, this is my father, Dr. Malford Dupont.”

      “Sir,” Mekashe said formally, and bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

      Jasmine’s father stood and bowed, as well. “And mine, to make yours. Mekashe. You’re Cehn-Tahr,” he added, as if fascinated.

      Mekashe nodded, a very human mannerism.

      “Of all the coincidences.” The other man chuckled. “In fact, Jasmine and I are en route to your home planet, Memcache. I was chosen to be the first human ambassador to the Cehn-Tahr.”

      Mekashe smiled. “I knew of the emperor’s plan to allow such an embassy, but I had no knowledge of the person who would occupy the position. I am doubly honored to meet you. I hope that you and your daughter will be content on my planet.”

      “It really is a coincidence.” Jasmine laughed, bubbling over with joy that her new friend lived on the very planet where her father would be stationed.

      Mekashe smiled. “A delightful one.”

      “Won’t you join us for dinner, young man?” the ambassador asked politely.

      It was difficult to find a reason to refuse. He didn’t want to. But the Cehn-Tahr were not vegetarians, and they ate most of their meals in a form that would offend human sensitivities. “I would have enjoyed it, but I have a prior commitment. Perhaps another time? Since we all seem to be equally confined on this vessel for a matter of weeks, we may find many opportunities to speak together.”

      “A true pleasure,” Ambassador Dupont said, smiling. “Do you play chess, by any chance?”

      Mekashe chuckled. “In fact, I do. I was taught by a human physician.” He didn’t mention that the physician was a clone, Dr. Strick Hahnson, who was a founding member of the Morcai Battalion. He didn’t want to mention his military ties just yet. Better to let them see him as just an ordinary citizen of an alien world.

      “I would enjoy a match. Perhaps tomorrow morning? As they reckon mornings aboard ship, at least,” Dupont added.

      “Just past the breakfast hour would suit me well,” Mekashe said.

      “I’ll see you then.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ