The Morcai Battalion: The Recruit. Diana Palmer
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ma’am.”
* * *
MADELINE LOCATED DTIMUN in his temporary office at Tri-Fleet HQ. It was smaller and more cramped than the one he maintained aboard the Morcai, but closer to fleet operations.
He frowned when she was admitted. “You have never reported to me directly on battle casualties. Is there a reason for this deviation from protocol?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, standing at parade rest. “It’s about Mallory.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Lieutenant J.G. Edris Mallory?” she prompted. “My assistant?”
“Yes. What about her?”
“Sir, she needs to be familiarized with the routine aboard ship, in case I ever have to bring her with me on a mission.”
He stood up, cold and unapproachable. “I will not authorize the presence of a second human female aboard my flagship,” he said flatly.
“Only to observe,” she persisted. She let out an exasperated sigh. “What if I were captured by Rojoks on the battlefield?”
“I would send them my condolences,” he returned.
She glared at him. “You’d have nobody aboard who could save you from a health crisis,” she tossed back.
“It amazes me that you have never questioned the reason I carry no complement of Cehn-Tahr medics aboard the Morcai.”
She blinked. “They said you had a fine contempt for medics of your own species. I assumed that was the explanation.”
His eyes narrowed and became a steady, searching blue as they explored her face. “You know nothing about us except what we permit you to know.”
“You can pin a rose on that,” she returned bluntly. “I’ve had to resort to black market vids to find out anything at all about Cehn-Tahr society.”
His eyes flashed green with humor. “Those vids are made at Benaski Port...”
“...by pirates who never saw a live Cehn-Tahr, yes, I know. Hahnson informed me after it was too late to demand my money back!” she muttered.
The green grew broader in his eyes. He cocked his head. “It did not occur to you to ask me?”
She cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t dare!”
“I have found very little that you would not dare, Ruszel,” he retorted.
She shifted restlessly and averted her eyes. It would be embarrassing, even for a physician, to put any of her burning questions to him.
“I realize that,” he said softly.
She grimaced. “I wish you wouldn’t walk in and out of my mind, sir. It’s very disconcerting.”
“You are far too easy to read,” he pointed out. “Telepaths learn to block unwanted intrusions at a very early age.”
She lifted her eyes to his, searching them quietly. “You healed the little Altairian child with nothing more than your mind,” she recalled. “I’ve never spoken of it, but I think your mental abilities are greater than you allow us to see.”
“Much greater,” he said in her mind.
“You keep secrets very well, as a species,” she pointed out.
“Some are best kept,” he returned silently. “If your species knew the true nature of mine, few humans would feel secure enough to serve with us.”
That was a revelation. It disturbed her at some deep level. “We’ve seen you fight,” she said, assuming that was what he referred to.
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.”
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