The Morcai Battalion: Invictus

Hahnson injected a drug into the artery at Madeline’s neck. “That will help the nausea. But it’s only treating symptoms right now. I have no experience with Cehn-Tahr/human babies,” he added with a wry smile. “I think this is going to be on-the-job training.”

“No doubt,” she managed. She was stunned by the notion that she was pregnant. Despite their earlier discussions, even with Komak’s assurances, she hadn’t really expected it to happen. Her knowledge of pregnancy was limited to a rare assistance at childbirth, but this was far more personal. The physical manifestations were new and startling.

Hahnson looked from one of them to the other. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to explain what the hell you think you’re doing? I mean, we’re talking capital punishment...”

“Chacon is in grave danger. The princess has gone to Benaski Port to warn him,” Dtimun told him. “Komak has traveled in time and knows the future. He said that Chacon’s death will create a disastrous timeline. Madeline and I must go to Benaski Port in an attempt to save them both, but the masquerade can only work if she carries my child.”

“They’ll space you both, if you’re caught,” Hahnson said worriedly.

“That’s why you aren’t telling anyone, old dear,” Madeline told him. “Not even Edris.”

Before he could reply, the young physician was back with a cup of what looked like herbal tea. She offered it to Madeline and left the room. Madeline’s hands shook as she held the beverage.

“You must drink it all,” Dtimun told her, steadying the cup with his own hand. “It will retard the growth of the fetus.”

Fetus. The fetus. The baby. She sipped tea and tried to wrap her spinning mind around the fact that she was pregnant. When she and Dtimun had discussed this possibility, she had asked what they would do with a baby. She was a soldier, she had said, she had no place for a child in her life. But now, with the reality of it, she felt a connection with the baby that overwhelmed her. She was carrying a child in her body. She touched her stomach with a sense of awe and fascination. It wasn’t, she thought, anything like she’d expected.

Hahnson examined her again, and nodded when he saw the readouts. “You’ll do,” he told Madeline. “I’ll compound some of this for you in Caneese’s lab, in a laserdot. She and I will confer on a regimen as well, for your trip.” He looked from one stoic, impassive face to the other. “This is very risky.”

“We know,” Madeline told him. “But the future is at stake.”

He sighed. “Then I’ll hope for good results.” He got up and forced a smile. “Good fortune.”

Dtimun locked forearms with him. “In my lifetime, I have had very few friends. I have always considered you one of them.”

“Same here. Take care of each other.”

He nodded.

Hahnson left, and Madeline began to feel better. She got her second wind and looked up at Dtimun.

“Sir, do you think you might consider telling me what the devil happened with the physicians?”

His lips made a thin line. “The elder one made a remark I did not like.”

“Yes?” she prompted.

“She pointed out that your wounds were in the wrong place. Then she referred to the length of time we spent in the mating chamber.”

She cocked her head. She didn’t understand.

“Madeline, our mates are subjugated, as female galots are subjugated. The process is brief, and brutal, and it leaves wounds on the chest and abdomen, not on the back. Also it is a breach of protocol to enjoy it.”

“It is?” she asked, and mischief suddenly sparkled in her green eyes.

He glared at her expression. “You will never speak of this,” he said abruptly.

“Would I do that, sir?” she murmured innocently. “As you know, I always obey your every order.”

“You never listen to an order unless it suits you,” he correctly curtly. “But if you ignore this one, you will pay for it.”

She gave him a wry look. “I’m not in the habit of discussing intimate things,” she replied. “Besides, people may speculate, but no one will ever know what happened in here, anyway.”

He lifted an eyebrow haughtily. All at once his own eyes went green with amusement. “For which we are obliged to the architect who soundproofed the chamber,” he said with the straightest face she’d ever seen.

He had rarely seen her speechless. It was amusing. Her face was almost as red as her hair. She averted her eyes with obvious embarrassment.

“You fought me,” he mused.

She cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said, thinking it was probably another breach of protocol.

“You need not apologize,” he chuckled. “I quite enjoyed it, once the shock wore off.” He knelt beside her and touched her long, damp hair. His eyes met hers. They gleamed like pure gold. It was a color she’d only seen in them once before. “I do not like submission,” he said in a husky, deep voice. His hand gripped her hair, hard, and pulled her face under his so that he could see directly into her eyes. He looked down his long, aristocratic nose at her with blatant possession. Her breath caught. The sensations the action aroused were new and shocking.

“That’s a good thing,” she said unsteadily, “because you’ll never get it from me.”

He smiled. He rubbed his head against hers in an oddly feline way, making a caress of it. His hand relaxed and speared through her long hair, savoring its softness. “We mated only to produce a child, to enhance a covert mission...or so it began.” His hand contracted again and he growled softly as the contact with the soft skin at her nape produced delicious sensations. She felt them, too. “It is strange, to find such compatibility between two such different species.”

She touched his chiseled mouth with her fingertips. She lowered her eyes to his bare chest. She fought a laugh. “The physicians seemed quite shocked.”

He laughed, deep in his throat, and rubbed his cheek against hers affectionately. “So was I. I have never taken so much pleasure from a female,” he said bluntly. His hands pulled her gently to him and enfolded her. “I deeply regret the violence at the beginning. But I did tell you once, did I not, that passion is always violent.”

She slid her arms around his neck and held on tight, closing her eyes. “You did, but I didn’t understand what you meant until now. Despite those—” she pulled back and stared at him suspiciously “—those dreams I had, that you said you weren’t responsible for.”

“I lied. The discomfort began to affect my ability to think rationally.” His hands smoothed her shoulders gently. “The ‘dreams’ are one of several coping strategies we employ in order to survive the long abstinences,” he told her. “Each time we mate, a child is created. One is dangerous. Two at once is a death sentence, even for a Cehn-Tahr woman.”

He was explaining something, very discreetly. “You mate only to have children?”

“The customs and culture of our society dictate that,” he agreed.

She cocked her head and her eyes twinkled. “Dictate it. But do people really abstain between children?” she asked. “Komak said they didn’t.”

“Since we do not discuss such intimate behaviors openly, the question is not easily answered.”

That brought to mind something that had piqued her curiosity before. She sketched his face with soft eyes. “Those holovid generators at Kolmankash,” she murmured. “Are they really used for vid games?”

He smoothed back her damp hair affectionately. “When we are separated from our mates,” he said, “they permit an intimacy which is almost indistinguishable from reality,” he said after a minute. He looked at her sternly. “This is another thing you will never share with an outworlder.”

She saluted him.

He glared at her.

She laughed. “We agreed a long time ago that I’m discreet,” she reminded him. “I never tell anything I know.”

He sighed. “No. You never do.” He looked down at her body in its thin covering. “How does it feel?” he asked suddenly.

“Feel?” she repeated curiously.

“My child lies in your womb,” he said slowly, as if the idea, the concept, was a source of awe. His eyes, softly gold, met hers. “How does it feel?”