The Morcai Battalion: The Pursuit. Diana Palmer
since the ambassador and his daughter would live there. He could even share common knowledge, like the ability of Cehn-Tahr eyes to change color. But anything more intimate was taboo.
“You have great skill yourself,” Mekashe replied. “But I have been playing for a longer time than you might imagine.”
The ambassador lifted an eyebrow and smiled secretly. He’d been told by Admiral Lawson that the Cehn-Tahr had somewhat modified life spans, and they put human age in the shade. He didn’t share the knowledge.
Mekashe read it and averted his eyes, so that he didn’t give away his telepathic abilities. “Another match?” he asked.
The ambassador chuckled and started setting up the pieces.
* * *
MEKASHE LEFT THEM just before luncheon was served, with the excuse that he had to report to his employer through the Nexus.
“What sort of work do you do?” Jasmine asked innocently.
“I am attached to the political wing of my society,” he said evasively, but with a smile. “My employer works at the Dectat.”
“I see.” She had no idea what a Dectat was.
“You seem disappointed,” he teased. “Did you think I might be secretly a pirate?”
She gasped and laughed out loud, beaming up at him. “Oh no. At least, I would never have said so...!”
“Liar,” he teased gently.
She flushed delightfully. “You just don’t seem like a man who does a desk job. That’s all,” she told him.
He wasn’t. She’d read him quite accurately, without knowing a thing about him. A good omen, perhaps.
He studied her with aching eyes. He wanted desperately to touch her, at least to brush that amazing hair with his fingertips and see if it was as soft as it looked. He couldn’t. There was no way...
He had a thought. Hahnson might know a way. The human physician had, in times long past, been bonded with a Cehn-Tahr female. Mekashe knew nothing about the relationship, but he did know that it had existed. He could contact Hahnson. It would not be taboo to speak with a man who had Cehn-Tahr citizenship and who was best friends with the emperor’s son about a delicate subject like that.
“You look odd,” Jasmine remarked.
“I’ve had a rather delightful thought,” he mused.
“Can I know what it is?”
He shook his head and smiled. “Not just yet. There is a lecture on comet patterns on the observation deck this evening. I plan to attend. If you and your father wish to join me...”
“We’d love to come!” she interrupted, certain that her father would find it fascinating. And she could be with Mekashe again.
He read that thought with utter delight. “Then I’ll see you on the observation deck just after dinner.”
“I’ll be there. With Daddy,” she added reluctantly.
The reluctance she displayed about her father’s presence made him feel warm inside. He made her a soft bow and left her, his mind whirling with possibilities.
MEKASHE HAD TO go through channels to get to Dr. Strick Hahnson aboard the Holconcom flagship, Morcai. That meant he had first to speak to its commander, his best friend, Rhemun.
“What are you doing aboard a commercial vessel?” Rhemun asked as the holon was initiated and his friend was standing in the room with him in a three-dimensional figure that could be interacted with. The avatar had the same flesh-and-blood reality as its original. They locked forearms in a show of affection.
“I have a problem,” Mekashe confessed, laughing. He reverted to his true form in the communication, not the almost-human-looking one he shared with outworlders. His true form was larger, taller, more massive than the camouflaged one. He had a face just a little more catlike than the familiar humanoid one that he showed to strangers, with a broad nose and a thick mane, and ears that were placed slightly differently than a human’s. There was no visible fur and he had no tail, as cats did. But the resemblance to a galot—the sentient cats of Eridanus Three—was notable, even if Cehn-Tahr were humanoid enough not to raise eyebrows in a crowd.
“What sort of problem?” Rhemun asked.
“One of the heart,” came the amused reply. “I told you when we were boys, about the visions I had...”
“...of a tall, willowy blonde human female, yes, I recall.” Rhemun gave a mock glare. “You thought it might be Edris, despite her lack of height.”
Mekashe laughed. “I must confess that I did. But I have now encountered the living vision.” He drew in a breath. “She is magnificent,” he added. “Beyond my dreams.”
Rhemun cocked his head. “And this is a problem?”
“We have only just met,” his friend replied, dropping into a chair beside Rhemun’s desk. “I do not wish to rush things. The emperor forced me to take a civilian mode of transport,” he began.
“Yes, because you refuse R & R and he thinks you push yourself too hard. Your lieutenant is performing admirably in your absence.”
“Just as well, because I now have no desire to rush home. However, she will be coming with me when I arrive.” He grinned at his friend’s surprise. “Her father is our new Terravegan ambassador.”
Rhemun burst out laughing. “Now, that is a true coincidence,” he remarked.
“As I thought, also.” He drew in a long breath. “So, as you see, I must go carefully forward. I feel an attraction that I do not wish to get out of hand. I want to approach Hahnson for advice,” he added. “But for that, I must have your permission. And your promise of silence.”
“The emperor will know,” Rhemun began.
Mekashe pulled out a small, glowing white ball. It would conceal thoughts from a telepath, even one as formidable as old Tnurat. “This is an innovation on the original design,” he confessed. “I must not announce my feelings to the emperor just yet.”
Rhemun understood. “There will be no issue,” he said. “The emperor reveres humans since Madeline Ruszel has given him two beautiful grandchildren.”
“Still, I must not rush things. I belong, as you do, to the Royal Clan. There are rumors, and only rumors, that too much mixing with the humans might provoke difficulties in the Dectat.”
Rhemun smiled. “Not as long as Tnurat rules. Did you not hear that he punched the president of the Dectat for an altercation with Dtimun over Ruszel’s rescue when her ship crashed on Akaashe?”
Mekashe chuckled. “I did, indeed. That is a long-standing feud.”
“Both are stubborn.”
“Good leaders.”
“Agreed.” Rhemun got up. “You have my permission to speak to Hahnson, and I promise not to mention it until you give me equal permission.” He chuckled. “Will that do?”
“Indeed it will.”
“I wish you great good fortune with the ambassador’s daughter. And I look forward to meeting her, as well.”
“How is Edris?” Mekashe asked.
“Recovering very well. Would you like to see our daughter?” he added.
“Yes!”
Rhemun pulled out a miniature holo and held it up. There was a tiny, black-headed baby in the cradle of her beaming mother’s arms. Edris, looking as lovely as ever before, and Kipling, their