The Morcai Battalion: The Pursuit. Diana Palmer
is looking forward to the picnic,” the older man said with a smile, melting his companion’s concern. “She’s spending the morning picking out just the right clothing to wear.” He glanced up from the chessboard. “She said that you were less than enthusiastic about the swimming party.”
Mekashe grimaced. “We consider such things indiscreet.” His solemn blue eyes met those of the ambassador. “Our culture is quite pristine.”
“I know.” The other man hesitated. “The head of our service shared a few facts with me, about your culture, things he thought were important enough to tell me before I arrived on Memcache.”
Mekashe sat back. His eyes studied the other man. “That was wise. It will help you to adjust. But it may be more difficult for Jasmine, especially since she has been so sheltered from alien races.”
“My fault. And I wish there were time to remedy it.” He sighed. “There were no holos, you understand. We aren’t permitted to share such things on the Nexus, even in our diplomatic service. I know that the Cehn-Tahr are even more careful about such things than we are. That was why you offered to give Jasmine the capture on a device, rather than flash it to her for the Tri-D reconstituter, yes?”
“Yes.” He reached into a pocket and handed the capture device to the ambassador with a smile. “I will let you keep it for her, until we return from the holoroom.” He didn’t add that the giving and acceptance of a gift was a notorious trigger for the mating cycle. It was much too soon for that to happen.
“I’ll do that.” The ambassador pocketed it. “The differences between our species seem wider than I first realized.”
“I’m afraid they are.” Mekashe’s face was solemn. “And we are careful about any information we expose on the Nexus. We never publicize details of our political, military or religious protocols, much less the names of those who serve.”
The professor hesitated over a move. He still looked troubled.
Mekashe didn’t need to read his mind to understand why. “You were told that we are not quite as we appear in public,” he said after a minute.
The ambassador’s hand jerked just faintly, the only outward sign of his concern. “Well, yes.” He looked up. “Is it a great difference, or are you allowed to tell me even that much?”
Mekashe smiled. “Your status allows you to know more than a private citizen. I cannot elaborate. But, yes, the differences would be apparent, especially to a sheltered female.” He frowned. “I would hope that it wouldn’t matter a great deal.”
“You don’t have tentacles or two heads...?” It was a joke.
Mekashe chuckled. “Certainly not.”
The ambassador sighed. “I don’t mean to pry,” he told his companion. “It makes no difference to me. I’m quite familiar with alien races through my research. My daughter, however, has never even seen a Rojok up close. They’re said to share some traits with Cehn-Tahr, but they’re very human looking.”
Mekashe was solemn. “I’m afraid that we are far different than Rojoks.” He glanced at the human. “I would never harm her,” he added quietly. “She has already become...precious to me.”
Ambassador Dupont smiled faintly. “I believe that feeling is very much reciprocated. Inevitably, however, you will have to tell her the truth.”
“I realize that.” Mekashe’s eyes had a faraway look and he frowned. “But we have still a long voyage ahead of us,” he said finally, smiling, “and the need for total honesty is not yet urgent.”
Ambassador Dupont nodded. His smile was nostalgic. “I found my wife wandering in a garden on Trimerius, when I was in military intelligence,” he said, smiling at the memory. “She was enthusing over a sunflower plant to a very bored young man. I stepped in and marveled at the flower and she found an excuse to send the other man back to his command.” He chuckled. “I’m no fan of flowers, but I learned to love them as much as she did.” His face saddened. “She’s been gone for five years, and I still grieve. She was fragile. I didn’t protest when she wanted to go on a rescue mission with a group of other physicians. The transport crashed and all hands were lost.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So was I. Jasmine took it very hard. It’s just the two of us. I have no other family and Martha was an only child, as well, of older parents who predeceased her.”
“Your bonded consort was a physician?”
He nodded. He studied the alien curiously. “Do you have family? Or am I permitted to ask such a personal question on such short acquaintance?”
“My family is sparse,” Mekashe replied. “My father was career military. My mother was in diplomatic service. They were lost in...” He started to say “in the Great Galaxy War,” but that might shock the human, who had no real concept of the life span of the Cehn-Tahr. The Great Galaxy War ended decades ago. “They were lost in a regional conflict,” he amended. “I have cousins, and what you would call a great-uncle.” He meant the emperor, but he couldn’t tell that to an outworlder. “But no close family.”
“Yet in your society, Clan is life itself,” Dupont said gently.
Mekashe smiled. “Yes. We consider that Clan is more important than any personal consideration. We live and die to bring it honor, to spare it from shame.”
“It’s a difficult concept, for humans.”
“I understand. You have family, which is akin to Clan. However, our complex social makeup will be difficult for you to comprehend. A tutor may be required. It is dangerous to say or do anything that gives offense to any Clan, but most especially to the Royal Clan. Even a criticism spoken out of turn may give offense, and there are grave consequences.”
“I’ll adjust, I’m sure. It’s just...I worry about Jasmine.” He smiled apologetically. “She’s impulsive, as you already know, and she often speaks out of turn.”
“I cannot imagine that such a kind and gentle person could ever offend in any way,” he replied. “She has grace and beauty, but it is her empathy and compassion which make her so remarkable. I have seen the combination very rarely in my life.”
“Thank you. I’ve done my best with her. So did her mother, who loved her greatly. Martha, however, was frequently absent, due to the rigors of her profession. She discouraged Jasmine from following in her footsteps, even disparaging medical work around her. She said that Jasmine was too fragile and far too squeamish to ever fit in a surgical ward. I have to agree.”
“Sometimes our strengths only appear under provocation,” Mekashe remarked. “Often it is turmoil rather than calm which heralds them.”
“Truly spoken. Are you certain that you want to move that pawn?” he added with pursed lips and twinkling eyes. “It might have consequences.”
Mekashe, who’d been listening rather than concentrating, saw immediately what the older man meant and chuckled. He moved his hand to a bishop instead. “You very nearly had me there. If only you hadn’t spoken,” he added drily. “Checkmate, I believe.”
“I believe in fairness, and I’m hopelessly honest,” Dupont replied with a sigh. “I fear it may involve me in controversy one day. I don’t prevaricate well. I’m told that this is almost a requirement in diplomatic work, of which I have no practical experience.”
“Honesty is a hallmark of our culture,” Mekashe replied. “It will stand you in good stead with the emperor, I assure you. He values nothing more.”
“What is he like?” Dupont asked. “I mean, is he fair? Is he even-tempered?”
“He is kind until circumstances provoke him to be otherwise” was the reply. “I have found him to be of a rather mild temperament on most occasions.”
Dupont was silent,