* *
MALLORY WAS SLOWLY regaining her self-respect, and the memory of the man she killed was fading into a still-painful but less haunting one. Meanwhile, she was developing a whole new set of problems.
Her interest in her commanding officer was growing. It had nothing to feed on. He hated her and made no secret of it. But her heart jumped whenever she looked at him. The hormone suppressants were working, after a fashion. But even if he couldn’t smell the pheromones, he could certainly detect her racing pulse and shallow breathing when she was close to him.
It didn’t make her life easier. He found new ways to annoy her, picking out flaws in her inventory system, dwelling on past mistakes. His newest requirement entailed noting every single injury ever suffered by Cehn-Tahr aboard the Morcai into a file.
* * *
IT HAD TAKEN two days, but she managed it. She was on her way to present it to him when Btnu stopped by, complaining of a headache that refused to go away.
She was very fond of the Morcai’s executive officer—Rhemun had replaced Stern with Btnu in that position—but she couldn’t do invasive tests without permission from her commanding officer, Rhemun.
“It will take a little time to arrange,” she said gently, and smiled. “I’ll just speak to the commander about it.”
“Thank you, Dr. Mallory.” He hesitated. “I was also distraught when I killed for the first time. He was a Rojok, and we were at war, but my conscience was damaged,” he said slowly. “I understand the difficulty. We are taught in our culture never to take life, but when we are in the military we are expected to do what is necessary.” He smiled. “It is never easy.”
“No. It never is. Thank you for sharing that,” she said. “It’s nice to know that some of you don’t hate us because we’re human,” she couldn’t help adding with some bitterness.
Btnu looked concerned. “You do not know, about him, about his past,” he said softly. “There is a reason.”
“We didn’t do anything,” she pointed out.
He sighed. “I know, Dr. Mallory. But you do not know. I wish that I could tell you. It is not my secret to tell.”
“You’re a nice man.”
He made a sound like human laughter. “Not a man.”
“You’re a nice Cehn-Tahr,” she corrected, and grinned.
He chuckled. “The commander is working out with the Kahn-Bo. He and Mekashe are in the gymnasium.” He leaned down. “Mekashe is better, but only a little.” He rose back up. “Do not tell him that I said so.”
“Not to worry. I’m usually listening, not talking.” Which was true. She rarely got a word in edgewise these days.
She closed the cubicle and went looking for the commander.
* * *
RHEMUN AND MEKASHE were locked in a heated struggle with the Kahn-Bo sticks. Rhemun was laughing as he applied all his strength to block the other alien’s attack.
Mallory, her eyes on the padd, came into the cubicle and stopped dead when she noticed the intensity of the mock combat. She was shocked at the feelings the sight of her commander stripped to the waist engendered in her. She felt her heartbeat rocket as she watched the play of muscle in his massive chest and arms as he struggled with the other alien. His skin was pale gold, flawless. There was a thick wedge of curling black hair that ran down his broad chest to his abdomen. His spine displayed a thin band of fur that ran its length, barely visible above his waist where the flowing black curls of his hair draped in violent contrast to the golden skin.
He was laughing. He enjoyed a fight. The feline features of his face eclipsed into something almost human as his white teeth were displayed.
* * *
HE WAS, SHE THOUGHT, the most beautiful, magnificent creature she’d ever seen in her life.
As her mind worked, he suddenly stopped laughing and turned. His demeanor changed instantly. He lifted his chin. “Yes, Doctor Mallory?” he asked curtly.
She swallowed down the helpless awe and approached him with her eyes lowered. “Btnu requires an invasive scan,” she explained in a subdued tone. “I can’t do the procedure without your authorization.”
“An invasive scan for what, exactly?” he snapped.
She held out the virtual comp. Her hands were shaking. He took it from her with something bordering on contempt and studied it.
“What did he do, swallow down a cerat whole?” Mekashe asked on a chuckle, referring to the small furry mammals that the Cehn-Tahr sometimes consumed for a protein jolt.
“He’s complaining of violent headaches,” she said, and managed a smile for him. “Nothing major, we just want to avoid problems down the line.”
Mekashe cocked his head and studied her. The little human female was enticing, in many ways.
Rhemun became aware of his interest. It should not have disturbed him. He hated humans. He glanced at his friend. “We shall have to postpone the match.”
“You are hoping that I will lose my edge over time,” Mekache teased. “I will not.”
“We will see,” Rhemun replied.
“I will return to my duties. Sir. Dr. Mallory,” he added in a soft, almost-purring tone, which earned him a cold glare from his commander.
He left the chamber, chuckling to himself.
Rhemun signed the virtual order and handed it back to Mallory. His nostrils processed the strong scent of pheromones that was issuing from her body. His jaw tautened.
“I find your interest offensive,” he said coldly.
She had forgotten his olfactory superiority. She grimaced. “Sir...”
“You are human,” he said, making almost an insult of the words. “Near the end of the Great Galaxy War, I had my young son moved to a military school in a system outlying the Megorian Sector.” He waited for that impact on the small human. It seemed to stun her. “A female human pilot was playing some virtual vid with two companions on the nexus when she was ordered to use her strategic weapons on a Rojok emplacement. She mistook the target and dropped the entire cargo on the military academy. My son was incinerated in a flash.”
Mallory’s lips fell open. Her mind was on overdrive. He had lost a son. He was bonded to a female. She had been watching him, hoping for some sign of his interest, and all the time, he was in a relationship. He had a child who had died. She was ashamed of her behavior and her feelings for him. She had thought he was, like most of the Cehn-Tahr in the Holconcom, a solitary male.
* * *
HE SAW HER emotions clearly. He felt them. He lifted his chin. His eyes were dark with anger. “The human female was small, with blond hair and blue eyes. Like you.”
She felt those words all the way to the soles of her feet. She looked at him with helpless comprehension. “I’m so sorry,” she said huskily. “So very sorry, for you, and your mate.”
He ignored the comment. “She was tried, court-martialed. But she was not punished. My government protested. It did no good. She killed my son and never paid for it!”
That was unusual. The Terravegan military was overly sensitive to such issues. But it had been long ago. Perhaps the law had been different then.
“Since I first saw you, when the emperor arrived aboard to help save Ruszel’s life, I have felt nothing but revulsion,” Rhemun emphasized, the injustice of the past making his tone harsh and cold. “Your continued presence aboard the Morcai is a constant reminder of the tragedy. I look at you and see the murderer of my son!”
Mallory had only basic psych training from the Tri-Fleet Medical Academy,