you.”
Dtimun jerked his eyes toward the buffet table, a blatant hint that she was to leave him alone with the ambassador. She excused herself and set out to sample what she could stomach of the buffet. She sighed sadly when she realized that most of the dishes were what humans would describe as sushi. Not that she didn’t like it, when they docked at oceanic continents. But the Altairian idea of sushi came from sea lizards of a particularly poisonous species. She helped herself to a glass of synthale and nibbled on a dish of what she hoped was ground nuts.
The commander rejoined her shortly, clearly pleased.
“I’m glad you’re happy, sir,” she said. “I’m hoping to get drunk enough not to mind the taste of the canapés...”
“Do not dare embarrass me here,” he bit off.
She gave him a wry look. “Would I do that, sir?”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Hey, look at the sweet little lady,” came a heavily accented, drunken voice from beside her. A fat little Terravegan in an expensive suit sidled up to her. “Aren’t you pretty?”
The voice belonged to the Terravegan ambassador, Aubrey Taylor. Highly positioned politicians weren’t bound by the neutering policy of the military. They could, and did, amuse themselves with women of all species. They, of all Terravegans, even chose where they wanted to marry.
Madeline gave him a cold look. Taylor glanced at the Cehn-Tahr beside her. “Some weird, unlawful combination, aren’t you?” he asked with disgust. “Does she know that trying to mate with you would kill her?” He sidled closer and put an arm around her. “But you’d do just fine with me...!”
She jerked back from him just as Dtimun made an odd rumbling noise, in the back of his throat. Madeline didn’t understand what it was, but she risked his temper by kicking him, covertly, in the leg. He made another sound, dismayed and angry. Madeline turned quickly and pretended to stumble. Her foot shot out efficiently, just covertly enough to trip the ambassador and knock him flat on his rear.
“Oh, my goodness, Ambassador Taylor, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed loudly, and rushed to his side as he sat up on the floor, cursing. “Sir, I’m very sorry!” she exclaimed. “I turned too fast and tripped over my big feet! I’m not used to skirts.”
“You clumsy cow!” Taylor raged. “I ought to...!”
“You don’t recognize me, do you, sir?” she asked Taylor quickly as the commander stepped forward angrily and heads turned toward them at the ambassador’s loud exclamation. “I’m Dr. Madeline Ruszel, medical chief of staff of the Holconcom. The commander is my C.O.” She indicated Dtimun, who was glaring at the ambassador with eyes a color she couldn’t quite classify. His posture was oddly threatening.
“Commander?” Taylor blinked. He looked from one face to another and registered his surprise. He struggled to his feet. “What are the two of you doing here, dressed like that?” he demanded.
“Covert ops, sir,” she whispered to Taylor.
He swayed a little, then blinked. “Covert...? Oh. Oh!” He put his finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”
“That’s right, sir,” she agreed, forcing a smile. “Shhhh.”
He blinked. He was clearly over his limit. “I get it. Well, carry on, carry on!”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m all right. Just tripped!” Taylor told his colleagues as he turned away from Madeline and stumbled toward the buffet table. “Will somebody get some more ice? These drinks are hot! Have to drink, this food is inedible!”
Muffled conversation began again. The Altair ambassador was even bluer with anger. Dtimun took the opportunity to leave the room, followed closely by Madeline.
They were outside, heading for the skimmer, when a curt laugh escaped him. “I should have you court-martialed,” he muttered. “The problem is deciding which charge to press—striking a superior officer or assaulting a diplomat.”
She grinned. “The diplomat deserved far more than that, sir,” she commented. “Sorry I kicked you, but I was afraid you meant to add to the ambassador’s condition.”
He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t admit that his temper had almost slipped its bonds when the drunk human had dared to put his hands on Ruszel. It was a behavior that was of some concern to him. It had not happened before with Ruszel. He was uncertain why it was happening now.
The skimmer lifted and moved off toward the Cehn-Tahr embassy.
Madeline was looking at him oddly. She was recalling what Taylor had said; that shocking comment that made no sense.
Dtimun read it in her thoughts, but he said nothing. The ambassador was quite correct. If he attempted to mate with Ruszel, with his genetically enhanced strength, he would kill her instantly. But he couldn’t speak of that to her. It was forbidden. Intimate contact was, of course, impossible. He looked down at her, at her radiant beauty, and had to force his eyes away. She was unlike females of any race he had ever encountered. He found her intriguing. But that still did not explain his violent reaction when Taylor touched her. It was disturbing. It was not a military response. It was a very personal one.
“Anyway, the sushi was nice,” she remarked, for something to say.
He pursed his lips. “Yes. We prefer our meat and fish raw as well.” He wasn’t adding that they could eat them whole, as any feline predator could.
She paused and looked up at him with open curiosity.
“Stop there,” he said in her mind. “Some questions are taboo, even among Clan. We are forbidden to speak of cultural habits to any outworlder. Even a Holconcom physician,” he added with a smile in his tone.
“We do know some things about your species,” she ventured.
“From your black market videos?” he asked with amused green eyes.
She gasped. “Sir!” she protested, flushing. “It has to be a breach of some sort of ethics for you to walk in and out of my mind!”
He chuckled. “Of course it is. But, then, madam, I have a reputation for bending the law.”
She had to admit that. It had saved their lives in many desperate situations, too.
“As for probing your mind, that is not intentional. I read only what lies on the surface.”
She gave him a demure look. “Good thing. I don’t fancy a court martial if you dig too deep,” she said with a gamine grin.
He repressed a laugh and changed the subject. “Ambassador Taylor’s behavior should be reported,” he said instead.
“Oh, please, sir, be my guest,” she invited. “If I report him, I’ll be mopping bathrooms, excuse me, heads, out on the Rim in the farthest outpost he can find for the rest of my military career.”
He laughed. “Surely not.”
“Afraid so. He, like all the politicians, has immense power
