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, but she understood what was happening. Rhemun had been unable to avenge the death of his child. The murderer was out of reach. But Mallory, who resembled her, wasn’t. Much became clear in her mind. His continued antagonism, his constant criticism of her slowness, her ineptitude—now it made sense. It wasn’t her skill or lack of it that prompted his distaste. It was a personal tragedy. Mallory was being made to pay for a crime she had never committed. She had no defense. Her soft blue eyes searched his angry ones and she saw secret dreams fall to dust there.
“I don’t want your interest,” he gritted. “The scent of pheromones that exudes from you is an insult! It disgusts me!”
She swallowed hard and pulled herself to a rigid stance. “I beg the commander’s pardon,” she said unsteadily. “It isn’t...intentional.”
“See Hahnson,” he said curtly. “There must be some chemical means of disrupting the pheromones. I want no repeat of this.”
She didn’t dare mention that she’d already been taking the maximum dose possible. There was nothing stronger, and she was already showing symptoms of allergic reaction to the substance Hahnson had prescribed. But she lied. “I’ll speak to him at once, sir.”
He searched her blue eyes with contempt. “See that you do.”
“I am very sorry,” she added, avoiding his gaze. “So very sorry. But you’re still young, sir. You and your mate can have other children...”
“My personal life is not your concern!”
She stood straighter. “It is not,” she agreed. “Sorry.”
“And stop saying that you’re sorry!”
She fished around for another word, couldn’t find it in her disturbed state and said nothing. She was all but shaking.
He saw that. He knew, somewhere deep inside himself, that he was being unreasonable, but the floodgates had been opened. He had never spoken of his loss to any other Cehn-Tahr. The emperor knew, of course, but it was a secret that the two of them had kept. He was sharing his grief with Mallory, an outworlder, a human who looked like the killer. It was incomprehensible to him. Such subjects were taboo except between family members or close friends, and Mallory was neither. His own behavior sickened him.
“Dismissed!” he snapped. “And you will never speak of this conversation!”
“Of course not, sir,” she said, in a shaky voice. “Doctors make a vow never to discuss private revelations, you know.”
He hadn’t known. He didn’t care. He saw again the ashes that had once been his child and felt again the rage and pain and...
He turned on his heel and stalked off.
* * *
MALLORY DIDN’T GO to see Hahnson. She went to her quarters blindly and began methodically packing her few possessions. The military didn’t allow much. She had her uniforms and some personal bits of clothing that she wore off duty. She had a brush and a virtual Nagaashe that kept her company in her privacy.
When she was packed, she sent a flash to Tri-Galaxy Fleet HQ and resigned her commission. That done, she booked a seat aboard a passenger ship that would cross the path of the Morcai only scant minutes later. She would have to run to the airlock to make connections, and there was no time to explain what she was doing. Protocol demanded that she tell Rhemun of her decision and give him time to send for a replacement Cularian specialist. But she couldn’t wait. She couldn’t bear to see the contempt and hatred in his eyes. Stop the pheromone production?
