The Morcai Battalion: Invictus Part 1

The Morcai Battalion: Invictus.

Susan Kyle.

For almost three years Dtimun, the enigmatic and mysterious Cehn-Tahr commander of the Morcai Battalion, has been at war not only with the Rojok Dynasty, but also with his feisty Medical Chief of Staff, Dr. Madeline Ruszel. Now a surprising visitor from the future has charged them with the rescue of the enemy Rojok, Field Marshal Chacon. To ensure success, both Madeline and Dtimun must make personal sacrifices and attempt a dangerous mission behind enemy lines. Sparks fly as each twisting turn throws them closer together than they've ever been before-can they resist acting on desires they have long denied?

If their plans are discovered, they face exile by their own governments and possibly even execution. But if they do not act, the future will see the end of civilization itself....

To all the fine professors at Piedmont College in Demorest, GA, who taught me to look at the world in a new and different way. Especially to those I haven't mentioned in previous dedications, who were my mentors in history and other subjects back when I was a college student in the 1990s: Dr. Ralph Singer and Dr. Al Pleysier in the history department; in anthropology, Dr. Max White; in j.a.panese, Dr. Jeanne White; in Spanish, Dr. Joe Palmer; and in English, Dr. William Smith, among many others.

This science fiction series also owes much to Dr. Rob Wainberg, my mentor for the biological aspects of the Cehn-Tahr (and, I rush to add, any mistakes in interpretation are my own, not his). The idea for the combination of human/Cehn-Tahr genes to restructure Ruszel was his. Hope I got it right, Rob.

This novel is also dedicated to my family: my husband, James, my son, Blayne Kyle, my daughter-in-law, Christina, my granddaughter, Selena Marie, my sister, Dannis, and her daughters, Amanda Belle Hofstetter and Maggie Cole, my other nieces, Helen Hunnicutt, Valerie Kyle, Kathy Thomas, my nephews Bobby Hansen and Tony Woodall, Rodney, Paul and James and all their families; my best friend Ann Vandiver (who forced me to take all my ma.n.u.scripts out of the closet and market them in the first place), my brothers-in-law Doug Kyle and Sonny Merck, my sisters-in-law Kathleen Woodall and Victoria Kyle, my great-nieces and great-nephews, great-great-nieces and nephews and the rest of my wonderful in-laws. And to my extended family, my readers, who keep me going with their affection and loyalty. Love you all.

CHAPTER ONE.

Silence, Madeline Ruszel thought, was overrated. In the darkness, all alone, she heard nothing outside the room. It was obviously soundproof. She wondered if the Cehn-Tahr needed perfect silence in order to sleep.

The thought made her curious. Memcache, the home planet of the Cehn-Tahr, had become her home since her rescue from a crash on the planet Akaashe with her military unit. Her former Holconcom commander, Dtimun, had defied his government and her own to save her life. She was recuperating from her injuries, but also facing a new and dangerous challenge once she healed. It was hard to sleep with the most momentous decision of her life hanging over her. She had agreed to a procedure that would change the very structure of her body, and to a mission that might mean her death.

She heard the wind stir outside. She wondered if her former commander had as much trouble sleeping as she was having. This place, this stone fortress, was his home. She was still amazed to find herself here, instead of back on the Tri-Galaxy Fleet's planet, Trimerius, where wounded military with life-threatening injuries such as hers had been were customarily hospitalized.

She hoped Dtimun wasn't in too much trouble with his government for pulling the Holconcom out of the Tri-Galaxy Fleet in order to rescue her. She, and all the humans aboard the Cehn-Tahr ship Morcai, were now under threat of court-martial and s.p.a.cing. The Terravegan amba.s.sador, Aubrey Taylor, had mandated the return of all human military back into Terravegan units, thus forcing the Holconcom's human component to return to its own base. The humans, all fond of Madeline, had refused to comply with the order, which also forbade any attempt to rescue her from Akaashe. So now they, and she, were fugitives from justice. She wished, not for the first time, that amba.s.sadors had less power. They were the equivalent of world leaders in the totalitarian society to which Terravegans belonged.

She drew in a slow breath, delighted to notice that it was not as painful as before. Her injuries would have been fatal, but she'd made a friend during an earlier mission. She saved the life of an elderly Cehn-Tahr soldier. It was he who had come with the Holconcom to Akaashe to get her. It was his powerful mind that had healed her. She owed him a lot.

She shifted in the bed, restless. She wasn't used to inactivity. She'd been in the military since she was very young. At the age of eight, she'd been divisional champion marksman in the sniper company where she'd first served. Her career as a soldier had been satisfying. So had her career as a doctor, a field that paired diagnostic and surgical functions and specialties in one individual. She was an internist, dealing with Cularian racial types such as Cehn-Tahr and Rojok. She was also medical chief of staff for the Holconcom ship Morcai. Or she had been, until Amba.s.sador Taylor had transferred her to a commando unit in the all-female Amazon Division and put her in harm's way.

It had been a move she hadn't fought. Her helpless attraction to her commanding officer had resulted in a behavior he couldn't control, one which had almost cost him his career. The Cehn-Tahr had mating behaviors which were violent and quite noticeable. When a human was involved, the consequences would have been deadly. The Interspecies Act forbade any mingling of genetic material between Cehn-Tahr and non-Cularian races, such as humans. Dtimun had often hinted that the Cehn-Tahr-genetically modified to be vastly physically superior to any other race-had many feline behaviors.

Which raised a question in her mind. Did the Cehn-Tahr sleep at night, like humans, or did they subsist on catnaps? She knew they could eat small mammals whole, owing to the striated muscle in their esophagus. But they also had a detached hyoid bone. That meant that they should be able to purr, like the small cats that occupied s.p.a.ce on Terravega. That was an interesting idea. She'd heard the commander growl. She'd heard what pa.s.sed for laughter among the Cehn-Tahr. She'd never heard one of them make a purring sound. Well, just because they had the anatomical structure to make it possible didn't mean they did it, anyway. The commander had intimated that there were still secrets about the Cehn-Tahr that they'd never shared, even with their human crewmates. She wondered what they were.

She got up, a little stiffly, and walked to the window. With a soft sigh, she opened the shutter-like wings and let in the night breeze. It carried warm breezes with the scent of the same flowers that occupied pots in her bedroom. No cut flowers here, she'd noticed, and smiled as she decided that Caneese had been responsible for that. Dear Caneese, who took such good care of her. It was comforting to have a woman's touch. Especially for Madeline, who had been raised in a government nursery on Terravega.

She was so unlike Cehn-Tahr females. Madeline was independent and spirited, a capable soldier, a competent doctor. Cehn-Tahr women were forbidden to join the military at all, much less operate as combat soldiers. It had been a point of contention between Madeline and Dtimun. Their battles had become the stuff of legends. And now she was living in his home, about to be bonded with him in preparation for the creation of a hybrid child. The pregnancy would act as a disguise to gain them entrance to the most notorious den of thieves in the three civilized galaxies. And they would do this, risking execution from their respective governments, to save the life of an enemy military commander.

All because a traveler from the future, Komak, had told them that civilization would perish if the Rojok Field Marshal Chacon was removed from his position by the murderous Rojok head of state. It was a frightening concept, that the future could depend on a human female and an alien male and a child that Madeline was still not certain was even a possibility.

She wondered how Komak planned to do the genetic manipulation that would make her strong enough that Dtimun could mate with her without killing her. Probably by injection, she decided, using a biological catalyst to facilitate the combination of human and alien DNA. It was an intriguing scientific theory put to practical use, if he could pull it off. But why not? The Rojoks had developed similar tech, and her Terravegan former captain, Holt Stern, was proof of it. She'd seen him take on Komak and fight him to a draw.

Not that she planned on trying to deck the C.O. She had considered it the day before, listening to him scoff at emotion. But, then, he had good reasons for his opinion. How terrible, to lose the one woman he'd ever cared about so violently.

She recalled their discussion about the way Cehn-Tahr marked their mates, about the aggression of mating. She would have to mate with the alien commander, if they were to a.s.sure the future timeline. A disturbing prospect, but Komak, who was from the future, had insisted that the mission was vital.

Pregnancy would be part of their disguise. In all of history, no Cehn-Tahr had ever mated with a human female. It had been considered impossible, due to the uncanny physical strength of the aliens.

It was unsettling to a woman who had spent her entire life as a neuter. She had no idea what to expect, except for what she knew from a medical standpoint. Probably, she decided, it was better not to think too much about it until she had to.

"Why are you out here alone at this hour?"

She jumped at Dtimun's voice. She hadn't heard him approach.

"I couldn't sleep, sir," she stammered.

He was wearing robes, not his familiar uniform. He appeared somber and out of sorts. He moved to her side, looking out over the dark silhouettes of the trees and distant mountains. "Nor could I."

She leaned on the balcony that ran around the porch. "I'm sorry I was rude, earlier."

"I was rude first."

She laughed to herself, picturing an altercation earlier between her female physician colleague and a Cehn-Tahr officer during which Dr. Edris Mallory had ended up with a pot of soup poured over her head.

"What?"

"I was remembering poor Edris Mallory, covered in soup."

He laughed, too. "I must confess that I can understand what motivated Rhemun to retaliate after she threw a soup ladle at him. The only thing that saved you in the past from the same fate was the lack of soup at an appropriate time."

"I know I get on your nerves," she said without looking at him. "I don't mean to."

The soft, high trill of some night bird filled the silence between them.

"I used to come here late at night when I was a child," he remarked. "There was a myth about a small winged creature with human features that fed on entots fruit. It grows here, in the garden. I escaped my parents and prowled, hunting. I never found the creatures."

"Every child should have access to myths," she said in a soft, dreamy tone. "My childhood was an endless series of close quarter drills and weapons instruction from the time I was old enough to stand."

He turned and scowled down at her.

In the darkness, his cat eyes gleamed neon-green. She caught her breath and jumped before she could squelch the giveaway reaction.

He wasn't offended. He only laughed. "Almost three years, Ruszel," he remarked, "and you still have not lost your fear of me in the darkness."

"I'm very sorry, sir," she said miserably. "It's just reaction. I can't help it. I'm not afraid of you. Not really."

His eyes narrowed as he saw her, quite clearly, in the dark. "A polite lie," he concluded from her expression. "And if you bond with me, there will be new nightmares. You may gain a fear of me which you will never lose as long as you live."

"I'm a combat veteran, sir," she reminded him.

"War is familiar to you. I am not."

"We've served together for..."

"You have seen the soldier, not the hunting male," he said very quietly. "There is a vast difference in the two. Some females have renounced bonding altogether because of their fear of it."

"Sir, it can't be all that different from the way humans...join."

He looked away. "Do you think so?"

"I have studied Cularian anatomy," she pointed out. "Including Cehn-Tahr."

"From information we provided."

She had a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Sir?"

He was staring out over the darkened landscape. Silvery creatures with luminous bodies in neon blues and greens alighted on flowers, poignantly beautiful in the light of the two moons of Memcache.

"There are still secrets we keep from you, Ruszel," he said.

She was recalling things. The true strength of the Cehn-Tahr, which he revealed to her so long ago in his office. The weight of him, when he rescued her from a fall off the cliff, odd considering the streamlined outline of his tall body. The comments he made about the terror the Cehn-Tahr kindled in enemies. The fear of the Cehn-Tahr, seemingly out of proportion to what Madeline and the other humans knew of their alien crewmates.

"Your mind is busy," he commented.

"It's like trying to see through smoke, sir," she mused. "Or mirrors."

"Smoke and mirrors. An apt a.n.a.logy. We are not what we seem; especially those of my Clan."

"Why do you keep so many secrets?"

He turned, letting her see his eyes, gleaming green in the darkness. "Out of selfishness, perhaps. If you do not know everything about us, you are less likely to be uncomfortable with us. We are fond of our human companions," he said simply.

"Fond?"

"You have traits that we find admirable," he continued. "Courage and tenacity and devotion to duty. For such a fragile species, you are indomitable."

She smiled. "Thanks."

He narrowed his eyes as he studied her. "We will risk much, if we go to Benaski Port."

"We will risk more if we don't go," she replied. "I for one would love to see the war end in my lifetime.

Without the Rojok Field Marshal, Chacon, to fight the madness of his tyrannical government, that might not happen."

"I agree."

"Do Cehn-Tahr sleep at night, sir?" she asked abruptly.

He laughed. "Why ask such a question?"

"Because I've never really seen any of you sleep," she pointed out. "Even at Ahkmau, the Rojok prison camp, the only reason you slept was because I knocked you out with drugs." She pursed her lips, frowning. "And those microcyborgs, the ones you said gave you such superior strength..."

"What about them?"

"Why would you need artificial boosters for the strength you already have?"

"You see too much, Ruszel."

"Or not enough. Depending on your point of view. For instance, the readings I get for your anatomical makeup are quite frequently at conflict with what I learned in medical school."

"Imagine that," he mused.

"You have a detached hyoid bone," she persisted.

He moved a step closer. His eyes that, in the light, could change color to mirror mood, began to take on an odd glitter. "And you wonder if the Cehn-Tahr can purr?"

Her heart jumped. "I...wouldn't have put it in exactly those words."

"We have many feline characteristics, none of which we ever share with outworlders."

She backed up a step. It wasn't his manner so much as his posture that suddenly started to set off alarms in her brain. He moved like a stalking cat, silently, with exquisite grace, with a singularity of purpose that was chilling.

"To answer your first question, we do not sleep at night, as humans do. We nap at odd times during the day. At night," he added in a soft, deep tone, "we hunt."

"Hunt, sir?" She backed up another step.

He was amusing himself. His eyes were twinkling. "To answer the second question, we can control the output of your computers and the information disseminated through your military medical corps. We are not what we seem. Nor, as you guessed, do I require the microcyborgs to augment my natural strength."

She backed up one more step.

"As to the last question," he said, bending down. "Yes, we do purr. When we mate."

It had just occurred to her that they were alone and she remembered, almost too late, the effect he had on her. He was attractive to her even when she was afraid of him. Her body was reacting now, pouring out pheromones, saturating his senses. And she had no genetic modifications. Not yet. If she provoked him, here, where they were alone, she would die.

"In an instant," he gritted, and a low, soft growl issued from his throat.

"Oops," she murmured. She was measuring the distance from the balcony to a locked door and wondering if she could outsprint him when a voice broke the silence.

"This is very unwise. Very, very unwise," Caneese said, clicking her tongue in a most human manner as she joined them on the balcony. The commander stopped, dead, and turned to face her, straightening slowly.

"You know, I was just thinking the very same thing," Madeline replied quickly. She eyed Dtimun, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I don't really think I could outrun him."

Dtimun took longer to react as he fought down his need. He let out a long breath and glanced at Madeline.

"I must agree," he told her. He smiled at Caneese. "You arrived at an opportune moment."

"As I see." She moved between them. "It is not kind of you to frighten Madeline," she chided.

He recovered his equilibrium and laughed softly. "She has the heart of a galot," he said unexpectedly, referring to a species of giant cat. "I would never expect her to be afraid of anything. Not even me."

Madeline grinned. "At least I haven't thrown things at you," she added, alluding to their earlier conversation about Rhemun and Edris Mallory.

"A lie," he said with a flash of green eyes. "Once, when I refused to let you treat a wound on my leg, you threw a piece of medical equipment at me."