The Morcai Battalion: The Pursuit

He held up a hand and smiled. “No apology is needed,” he said in a deep, soft tone, in unaccented Standard. “The ship is extremely large and there are no virtual hubs to help you find your way. Where do you want to go?”

She studied him with utter fascination. “Did your eyes just change color?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and unblinking on his golden-skinned face. He had eyes oddly like a cat. She was afraid of cats. But he was a man. He was a gorgeous man. She could overlook the eyes. They weren’t really catlike at all, she thought.

He chuckled, or what passed for one in a Cehn-Tahr. “Yes,” he said. “It is a characteristic of my race. The colors mirror moods.” This much he was allowed by custom to discuss. The color changes were well-known.

“What is green?” she asked, truly interested.

“Amusement,” he said softly.

“Oh!” She sighed. “I was afraid that I’d offended you!”

“If so, my eyes would be dark brown, not green,” he replied.

“Are you an alien?” she asked. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never been off Terravega until we boarded this vessel. I saw a blue man just now!”

“Altair,” he said. “Possibly Jebob. The eye colors are different, but they both come from the same ancestry.”

“That’s fascinating!”

So was she. He was entranced. She’d never been off-world. Never seen an alien. He’d been all over the three galaxies and had seen races that were even now almost unreal.

“Would you like me to escort you to the dining room?” he asked politely.

“That would be so kind of you!”

He managed a smile. It was foreign to his culture, but he studied human traits and often emulated them. It was a holdover from his infatuation with Edris Mallory.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, and bowed slightly.

She caught her breath. He was gorgeous. She’d never seen anyone so handsome, alien or human.

Unknown to her, he read those thoughts with delight. The attraction was mutual, it seemed.

“Are you on holiday?” she asked as they walked past bulkheads that lined the outer structure of the spacegoing ship.

He chuckled. “I am returning to my home, after attending a conference. I would have taken a shorter route, but my...employer said that I needed the downtime. So it will be weeks before I reach my destination.”

She smiled. “Most people benefit from an occasional holiday. I know my poor father does. He was a college professor on Terravega—that’s where we’re from. He taught political science.”

“An interest of mine,” he replied.

She made a face. “I hate politics,” she murmured.

His dark eyebrows lifted in an almost-human manner. “What subject do you prefer?”

“Medicine!” she said enthusiastically. “I wanted so desperately to be a surgeon, but my mother, God rest her soul, was horrified, even though she was a physician from the time she was out of secondary school.”

“Why?” he asked gently.

“She said that I was far too innocent and sheltered for such a brutal profession.” She sighed. “Besides that, the only career path I could find led through the military. When I mentioned that, Daddy got involved, and he and my mother blindsided me.” She didn’t add that she despised the military, so she hadn’t fought them very hard.

He frowned. “Blindsided?”

“They joined forces to oppose me, before I knew what they were about,” she translated with a laugh like tinkling bells. “I suppose they were right. I’ve never seen alien planets before, or been in space. This is such an adventure!” She looked up at him with soft blue eyes. “Have you been in space before?”

He’d lived in it most of his life, but he hesitated to admit that. “Yes. A time or two,” he prevaricated.

She smiled. “I’d love to hear about it sometime.” She flushed and averted her eyes. “I mean, if you’d like to talk to me. I’m daffy. I drive Daddy nuts. Most people avoid me because they think I’m scattered.”

He stopped walking and just looked down at her. “These idioms.” He chuckled. “I must confess that I need a translator.” He said it softly, so that he didn’t offend her. “The humans I’ve known used very few.”

“I’m notorious for them, I’m afraid. What I mean is that I’m easily diverted and I don’t concentrate well. Daddy says it’s a sort of attention deficit disorder, but he doesn’t believe in drugs, so he refused to let them give me any to correct it.” She grimaced. “I suppose I sound like a lunatic...”

“I think you sound quite fascinating,” he said quietly, and his eyes began to take on a soft, light brown color.

“Your eyes changed color again,” she remarked, fascinated. “You aren’t angry?” she added worriedly, because he’d said that brown meant anger.

He chuckled, or what substituted for laughter in a Cehn-Tahr. “Yes. The colors can become confusing when several emotions are involved.” He nodded toward a door to avoid telling her that the soft brown meant affection. It was too soon for that. “I am not angry. The colors are more complicated than I can explain to you at the moment. The dining room is through here,” he said, diverting her.

“I forgot to tell you my name. I’m Jasmine. Jasmine Dupont. Our ancestry, they say, is French, from ancient Earth. It’s where all Terravegans come from.”

“I am called Mekashe.” He gave it the formal pronunciation.

“Mekashe.” She flushed a little as she said it, and smiled delightedly. She hesitated. “Would you like to meet Daddy?” she blurted out, and flushed again, a darker pink. “I mean, if you’d like to, if I’m not imposing...”

“I should like it very much. Jasmine.” He made her name sound exotic, foreign, thrilling.

She laughed. “Thank you...?” She hesitated, afraid that she was going to mess up the pronunciation.

“Mekashe,” he repeated slowly. He gave it the pronunciation that a stranger would use on Memcache, because names were pronounced in many different ways among the Cehn-Tahr, depending on length of relationship, Clan status, position and so forth.

“Mekashe.” She studied his strong, handsome face. “Do names have meanings among your people? I mean, my name is that of a flower on Terravega.”

Even more fascinating. She reminded him of a flower, delicate and beautiful. “They do,” he replied. “I was born on the day of a great battle, which ended well for my people. My name, among my own people, translates as ‘He of the warrior blood.’”

“Oh.” She hated the military, but she wouldn’t mention that, not when she found him so attractive. She laughed then, lightening his expression. “I love it!”

He cocked his head. He smiled. She entranced him.

They stood staring at each other until another passenger came barreling out the door and almost collided with them. Jasmine staggered, but he didn’t reach out to steady her. He ground his teeth together. If he touched her, even in an innocent way, it might trigger a mating behavior—especially considering the attraction he already felt. He saw her mild surprise at his lack of help, and he grimaced. He wasn’t even allowed to explain it to her. One didn’t elaborate on intimate customs among outworlders.

“There are reasons for my actions,” he said, compromising. “I wish I could explain. But I can’t.”

“You aren’t allowed to touch human females. Right?” she asked with certainty.

His eyebrows arched almost to his hairline.

She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Daddy says I’m always putting my foot into my mouth, figuratively speaking. I just plow right in, instead of thinking about what I’m saying. I sometimes offend people because I’m so impulsive.”