The Morcai Battalion: The Pursuit

Mekashe laughed uproariously at the image that presented itself. He took the precious discs and put them in his personal safe. One could never be too careful with powerful drugs. He saved out one of the 1-cc discs for later, just before the opera. He’d never anticipated an evening so much. Already, Jasmine had become part of his life.

* * *

HE DRESSED CAREFULLY in his most formal suit, a black one that flattered his pale golden skin and black hair. He looked very correct, he told himself, smiling at his virtual reflection. His hair, thick and soft, was in a conventional cut, like the humans wore. When he transformed to his natural form, it was like a mane that swept back from his face and down his back. Like his cousin Rhemun’s, it was gloriously curly, a genetic legacy from their forefathers.

Unlike Rojoks, whose hair signified rank by its length, Cehn-Tahr had only personal preference to consider. Mekashe had enjoyed long hair when he noticed that Dr. Edris Mallory seemed entranced by Commander Rhemun’s long, curly black hair that he wore to his waist in back. But growing his hair hadn’t provoked the same reaction in Edris, who was in love with Rhemun. It had been a huge disappointment to find that the pretty little blonde physician didn’t share his infatuation.

Now, however, he didn’t mind. He had Jasmine, who was the embodiment of dreams. He looked forward to the opera, which he’d never attended in his life. He’d heard some of his comrades bewail the experience as earsplitting misery which they endured because they were fond of their shipmates. Mekashe was going to keep an open mind. It wasn’t the affair, it was the company that he was going to keep that warmed his heart.

He presented himself at Jasmine’s door precisely when the ship’s intercommunications hailed the six bells the Duponts had told him about.

Jasmine opened the door, and Mekashe’s breath sighed out in wonder.

She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen in his life. She wore gold, a soft fabric that fell in folds to her ankles, with a high neckline and short sleeves. Over it was a cape of the same material, secured by a white fur collar and clasp. The fur smelled of mammal. He’d read that the humans still wore fur accessories for fashion, although these were Tri-D creations, not taken from live creatures.

“Is it...all right?” Jasmine asked worriedly, because his expression was troubling.

“You look quite incredibly beautiful,” he said in a soft, deep tone. “You take my breath away.”

She beamed. Her pale blue eyes sparkled like jewels. “Thank goodness. I was afraid I’d dressed inappropriately.” She grimaced. “The salesman said it was rather risqué.”

He frowned.

“Daring,” she modified. She flushed.

“Why?” he asked, because he could see no evidence of that.

“Well...it’s this.” She turned around. Her beautiful, smooth back was bare to the waist.

The sight of that exquisite skin had a very formidable effect on Mekashe, who was now very grateful for Hahnson’s prescription. What might have provoked an alarming behavior was tamed, so that all he did was smile.

“It is perfectly appropriate,” he assured her when she turned back. He leaned down a little. “What the salesman meant is that to some cultures, a bare nape—much less a bare back—is extremely stimulating.”

Her eyes widened. “Is your culture one of those?”

He nodded. “To us, a bare nape is very exciting.”

She caught her breath. “Oh dear. Should I go and change?” she asked at once, not wanting to make her new friend uncomfortable.

He laughed out loud. “Most certainly not. The effect is tantalizing, but not overpowering. Shall we go?”

Her father paused behind his daughter with a rare paper book in his hand. “Leaving now? Have fun.” He kissed Jasmine’s cheek. “Chess tomorrow?” he asked Mekashe.

“Definitely. After breakfast.”

“I’ll warm up the chess pieces.” He smiled and walked away.

* * *

“YOUR FATHER READS books made of pulpwood,” Mekashe remarked on the way to the theater.

“Yes. He has a collection of them. They’re very rare. He said that no electronic book has the feel and smell of the real thing. He paid a fortune for them.”

“Paper pulp.” Mekashe shook his head, smiling. “We revere our forests. We consider that they have a culture, even some form of sentience. It would never occur to us to slaughter one for a commercial product.”

She stopped and looked up at him worriedly, afraid that she’d offended him.

“We consider that the culture of other species does not conform with our own, and we make allowances.” He hesitated. “Did you think we might cage your father for public punishment for owning a book?” he added at her consternation, laughing.

“Well...” She smiled shyly. “I wasn’t sure. We know so little of your culture.”

“You will learn more, as we go along,” he promised. “Now. Tell me about this thing called opera.”

She enlightened him on the way to the event.

They were in line when he spoke again. “It will be a new experience for me.”

“Don’t you have opera?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Our music is mostly instrumental,” he replied. “We have artists who paint with sound, who—” he searched for the right word “—who make visual canvases which, when touched, produce music.”

“That sounds almost magical,” she said.

He nodded. “We have a sector called Kolmankash, where exotic tech is produced. We have many inventions that would seem like the arcane to other cultures.”

“I’ve heard of Kolmankash! I would love to see a canvas that sang.” She sighed.

“Soon,” he promised, and she beamed.

* * *

THEY WERE SEATED. The orchestra began tuning up. Mekashe wished he could cover his ears. If this was opera, he was already disenchanted and not looking forward to an evening of this assault on his hearing.

“They’re just tuning up,” Jasmine whispered, when she noted his almost-human expression of distaste. “It’s not opera. Not yet.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. “Very well.”

Her small hand slid over his big one on the seat beside her. He turned and looked down into her eyes as his own hand curled very gently around it and a jolt of feeling like an electric shock went through his body in a hot wave.

She felt it, too. He didn’t need to be telepathic to know that. Her eyes were full of her feelings. He could hear her heartbeat, quick and unsteady. He could hear her breathing stick in her chest. He could feel the ripple of sensation go through her at the contact. If he was entranced, she certainly was. His eyes met hers and neither looked away.

He was grateful for the dravelzium. Without it, he’d have carried her out of the theater to the nearest closed room. In his long life, he’d felt the sensation only a handful of times, mostly with totally inappropriate females. This one would be eminently acceptable to his culture and his Clan. He was certain of it. An ambassador’s daughter, especially the first Terravegan ambassador’s daughter, would be thought of as an aristocrat. And he was also certain that the racial element would not present a problem. Jasmine was so beautiful that no one would protest at the coupling.

The clapping of other concertgoers interrupted the eye contact. They both laughed self-consciously and turned their attention to the stage.

The orchestra began to play. Mekashe was fascinated by the arrangement of notes. He’d never been exposed to human music. The humans aboard the Morcai used earphones when they listened to virtual music, so he hadn’t heard any. But this was worthy of Kolmankash itself.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.