The Morcai Battalion: Invictus

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 analogy. 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.