The Morcai Battalion: Invictus Part 17

Madeline was reminded of the Dacerian slave women who frequently appeared on the intergalactic market. She thought of it with distaste.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

Dtimun moved away, pacing. "I have a map of the area where he is being held. It will take a little time to make arrangements."

"I'll start on them immediately," Sfilla promised.

"I will take Sfilla and go to Dacerius, first thing in the morning, to free him..."

"Not without me, you won't," Madeline said at once.

Dtimun whirled. "You will not go," he said firmly. "The child makes you too vulnerable."

"Yes, well, the child and I are the only protection you're likely to have," she returned stubbornly. "A lone Cehn-Tahr male in that thieves' den would be immediately suspect."

"She is right," Lyceria commented.

" Bataashe! " Dtimun shot at her, with no regard whatsoever for her position.

Madeline was surprised that the princess allowed him to speak to her in such a way. She glared at her commander. "You shouldn't speak to her that way. She's a princess," she reminded him.

Lyceria's eyes, unaccountably, flashed green at the human female's defense, but she didn't say a word.

"I do not need protection," Dtimun continued, unabashed.

Madeline gave him a droll look. "It will be easier for us to retrieve you if you don't end up in a Rojok prison camp."

"I will remind you that I have lived successfully for two hundred and fifty years without your intervention," he reminded her curtly.

"Lucky you!" she shot back. "I'm going with you."

He moved toward her. "The child will inhibit your ability to protect yourself. The distraction of protecting you could cost us both our lives, to say nothing of the child you carry."

She stared at him. "The child is temporary," she reminded him, "and I won't remember any of this in about two weeks' time."

His eyes made an odd combination of colors and there was a stifled sound from Lyceria.

Madeline glanced at her and frowned. "Are the two of you keeping something from me?" she wondered aloud.

"You and Lyceria will return to Memcache," Dtimun began.

"Like b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l I will," Madeline said, standing taller. "You are not going to Dacerius without me!"

"Madam...!"

"Try it," she replied hotly. "You can lock me up, but I'll just escape and find an alternate route to Dacerius and go anyway."

Lyceria's eyes were mirthful. Sfilla was struggling not to laugh. The commander looked like every male since the beginning of time who was trying to reason with an unreasonable female.

"The child should not go into such danger," he groaned.

She moved right up to him. "Yes, well, unfortunately he and I are a matched set. It isn't possible to leave him behind." Her eyes searched his. "I'm not letting you commit suicide, sir. I put too much work into saving you at Ahkmau. "

He actually groaned aloud. "Madeline, I do not need the constant reminder..."

"Apparently you do!" She glared at him stubbornly. "I'm going with you!"

Sfilla placed a gentle hand on his arm. "She is correct. If you and I go alone, suspicion will be immediate and possibly fatal."

"Yes, and her son would agree with her," Lyceria said.

"Her son?" Madeline asked, curious.

"My son is captain of the kehmatemer," Sfilla replied, smiling at Madeline's surprise.

"Captain Rhemun?" Madeline said aloud. She laughed. "Well, now I know who he gets it from."

Sfilla frowned. "Gets it from?"

"His audacity," Madeline said, and grinned.

. "I see," responded with a laugh.

Dtimun did not like Madeline's reference to the captain, of whom he had still some small jealousy. He growled softly.

She arched her eyebrows. "Sir!" she admonished.

He averted his gaze.

"We're still dancing around the issue," Madeline said. "You have to let me go with you."

He didn't like the idea, but he was persuaded that she was correct. He sighed. "Perhaps I do." His eyes twinkled. "Hazheen Kamon will permit us to stay in his camp while we search for Chacon. He will provide any additional security that we require."

Madeline was recalling that it had been in that camp where Dtimun had become involved with the Dacerian woman with whom he bonded so long ago. Jealousy rose in her throat like bile. She didn't dare oppose him, because he knew Dacerius far better than she did. But he would be enmeshed in the past there, in his memories of the beautiful Dacerian woman whom he had loved. Madeline would fade into the background, perhaps even be resented by him. She turned away, sick at heart.

He read those thoughts in her mind with surprise. He hadn't thought of the Dacerian woman in some time; certainly not since Madeline had become pregnant and he had realized that his old paramour never was.

He started to speak to her, when a flash came over his comm unit.

It was Patch. "I have more information," he said, and related it.

Madeline was restless. She shouldn't have been. Everything was in place. They knew where Chacon was.

Very early in the morning, when their covert transport was ready, they'd go to Dacerius and with the help of Sfilla's operatives, rescue him and secure the future.

And it sounded good. But she, like most military vets, knew that any battle plan, regardless of its genius, was written in water. So many factors could influence its success.

She laid a hand on her swollen belly, on her child. It was incredible how much she'd changed in the past few weeks. All her life, she'd been a neuter, neither male nor female, only with the appearance of a female, conditioned to see males as comrades, not potential mates. Now, everything had changed.

The child inside her had softened her, made her vulnerable, but had also made her stronger. She felt whole now, as she never had before. She dreamed of a future that would give her the opportunity to see her child born, to see him grow into a man, to be part of the family he might one day have.

She smiled sadly. Dreams. Only dreams. Even if she could bear the child without dying, he would be a hybrid. As any biologist knew, hybrids were almost always sterile. It would be impossible...

"Are you pacing again?"

Dtimun's deep voice came from his suite of rooms. Laughing softly, she went to the open doorway and peeked in. He was lying on his side, dressed in that odd Khan-Bo flared pant he wore to sleep in. His broad chest was bare, his hair mussed. He was watching her with faint amus.e.m.e.nt. He was so handsome that her heart skipped, just looking at him.

"Yes, I'm pacing. Sorry if I woke you," she apologized.

"I was not asleep. Come and sit down. No, not there. Here, beside me."

She moved to the bed and sank down beside him, cross-legged on the bed. His arm went easily around her, his big hand soothing as it moved on her back. Amazing, she thought, how comfortable they were with each other these days.

"I was tormenting myself with the future," she confessed with a rueful smile. "I know better. I just can't help it."

He smiled. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at her lovely face in its frame of tousled long, red-gold hair. "Human nature, I believe your species calls it."

"Something like that."

"You must not brood so much," he said gently. "There are forces at work which we cannot control. The future is not written in stone."

"Yes, that's what worries me..."

"Not Chacon's," he corrected. "Our future."

Her heart jumped. "You said that there was no way," she began.

He smiled. "Yes, I did. I said many things."

She lifted an eyebrow. "You're never wrong. I read it in a military brief somewhere."

He chuckled deeply. "I had a view of the future that may have been unnecessarily pessimistic," he replied.

"I have lived through many tragedies in my long life. They have combined to make me cautious."

She studied his handsome face quietly. "The Dacerian woman," she guessed.

He smiled. "No. She was an illusion. There was no pregnancy. She would not have risked her life to save mine. She was an operative sent to a.s.sa.s.sinate me."

She caught her breath audibly. "An a.s.sa.s.sin? But how do you know?"

"My father told me. It has taken over six decades for me to listen to him." He sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I hope that I will be more flexible with my own children."

His children. Those he would have one day with a Cehn-Tahr woman, the children who could inherit his t.i.tles and his lands. She put her hand protectively over her stomach.

He glanced at her. "You make a.s.sumptions," he accused. "You must try not to antic.i.p.ate tomorrow."

She shrugged. "Force of habit."

He reached out and touched her cheek lightly. His eyes were that soft shade of gold shown only to family.

"There is always hope," he said. "And that is all I can say. When this is over, we will speak again of the future."

"It will be too late," she told him.

He smiled. "It is never too late. And you must rest. Tomorrow will be hectic."

She started to get up, but he tugged her down beside him and folded her close, pulling the sheet up over her protectively.

"You will not look at me, and you will not touch me," he told her firmly as he turned her so that her back was against his chest.

"Why?"

His teeth nipped lightly at the juncture of her neck and throat. "Cats are frightening in the dark."

She laughed like a girl. "You're not frightening. Not anymore."

"We will not tempt fate. Go to sleep."

She drew in a long, happy breath and closed her eyes. "I won't faint if I see you," she pointed out. "I'm a combat veteran."

"We will also not argue."

"Darn," she muttered. "Takes all the fun out of life."

He chuckled. "Our battles have been memorable."

"Yes." Her hand smoothed over his where it rested over the mound of their child. "And long."

His face nuzzled against her hair. It smelled of a light, floral shampoo. He smiled. "You lost most of those battles," he taunted.

"Only because you outranked me," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "Go to sleep. I do not want to lose an argument."

She laughed. She closed her eyes with a sigh and thought that she'd never been so happy. She refused to think ahead, to a time when she would not be pregnant, when she would forget all these wonderful times with him, even in the face of great danger. Live for the moment, she told herself.

"Yes," his deep voice came into her thoughts. "Only for the moment."

She didn't expect to sleep. But she did, and soundly for once.

Madeline awoke in the middle of the night. She didn't know why she'd suddenly opened her eyes. Perhaps it was a noise from outside. Whatever it was, she was wide-awake. She realized that she wasn't in her own bed. Then she noticed the long, muscular arm draped over her waist. Odd, the way the hand looked. Not the fingers so much as the size of the hand, and the arm. Frowning, she turned over before she remembered that she'd been told not to.

Her eyes widened. This wasn't the commander as he usually looked. Not at all. This being was huge. Tall, powerful, ma.s.sive. His face was very like the one he showed to other people, except that his nose was a little broader. But his hair was rayed around his head like a lion's mane, black and thick, and his ears sat just a little higher up on the sides of his head than a human's. His mustache and very short beard were like a depiction of ancient Asian humans she'd seen in history vids, the mustache thin and wispy, the beard bare and continuing up to just below his ears. He looked very impressive. Magnificent. She studied him with warm, soft eyes. He was sound asleep, completely oblivious to her scrutiny. This explained the dark room after the bonding ceremony, and his stern warning not to look or touch. He must employ an indent.i.ty screen, a sensor net, of some sort-perhaps that was why the microcyborgs were used-so that he wasn't revealed to outworlders. This was the secret he kept from her.