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  Dtimun, also, was dumbstruck.

  Komak nodded. “I thought it might shock you, when you knew the truth. I have served with you for almost three years. We have wrecked bars together,” he told his mother with a very human laugh, “we have fought side by side, endured hardships, had glorious battles with Chacon’s forces.” His face became solemn. “It is not given to most children to know their parents as equals, as comrades in arms, as friends. I did not realize what a privilege it would be.”

  His parents moved a little closer together, unconsciously, as they stared at the image of their child as an adult.

  “I told you that I made vids of this time period,” Komak added, chuckling. “And they truly will entertain you in the future. One of them is of my dignified, elegant mother in the process of bashing a fellow officer over the head with a weapon in a bar brawl.” He roared with laughter. “I could not believe what I learned about her, when we served together. You were quite dignified and stoic,” he told Dtimun, “just as you are now. But as commander of a combat unit, you surpassed my wildest expectations. I understand now why many of your command theories are studied in military academies all over the three galaxies. You had an unorthodox, elegant style of command which could morph instantly to suit any situation you might encounter.” He swallowed. “I have always had affection for you, because you were my father. But as a commanding officer, you are absolutely without peer. It was a great honor to serve with you. A great honor.”

  Dtimun cleared his throat. “When you were not overly irritating, you were a fine young officer,” he said, trying to unbend just a little. His eyes abruptly flashed green. “Although there is the matter of the bar brawls in which you encouraged your mother.”

  Madeline grinned. “My boy,” she murmured proudly. The smile faded. She placed her hand gently over her belly and tears brightened her green, green eyes. “My son,” she whispered to the image projected by the vidplayer.

  Komak, too, had suspiciously bright eyes. “It was a time of learning for me, in many respects. I now understand the emperor’s reluctance to discuss details of these covert operations.” He shook his head. “I can barely believe the true story, myself.”

  “Your grandfather is unorthodox,” Dtimun said affectionately. “I learned many of my command tactics from observing vids of his own combat style. You never knew your uncle, Alkasaar. He turned rebel because of the genetic manipulation, to save his son from it. Later, he allowed himself to be killed, to prevent the family from suffering even more anguish over his actions. Then Marcon died on Terramer.”

  Madeline recalled at once her first meeting with Dtimun on Terramer, as he saw his brother there, dead. She now understood his reaction. She recalled the memorial service she’d attended with Dtimun on Trimerius, as well.

  “With Marcon dead,” Dtimun continued, “I was left to inherit the throne. I am still not certain that I want it... Why do you laugh?”

  “There are still some things I know, which I cannot disclose,” Komak told him gently. “Suffice it to say that you will not have to worry about such things for many years. You will have quite enough to do with diplomacy and being a father to me and my siblings.”

  “Siblings?” Madeline actually stood up, because Dtimun had never disclosed what his father had admitted to him in confidence.

  “Oh, yes,” Komak said.

  Madeline looked at Dtimun with fascination. He smiled.

  “Your actions have assured the timeline,” Komak continued. “Thanks to you, there will be generations of peace. The future is assured, not only for you two and my grandparents but also for my mate and I, and our sons.”

  “Your DNA is hybrid,” Madeline said slowly. “Are your sons adopted...?”

  “They are not,” he told her, “and part of their DNA is also human. Which is why I remained a little longer before your bonding ceremony. I wished to gather information for my mate about her parents.”

  “Rhemun,” Madeline guessed.

  “Mallory.” Dtimun nodded.

  Komak roared with laughter. “You are too perceptive. However, I must let you assume some things because I cannot deal in facts. The future is delicate.”

  Madeline sat back down beside Dtimun. “Can we do this again?”

  “Do what?” Komak asked.

  “Talk to you like this with the interface?”

  He smiled sadly. “That will not be possible. I cannot risk contaminating my own time by saying something unwisely.”

  “I see.” Her face was sad.

  Komak took a long moment to look at his parents as, before, he had only seen them in vids made by the Clan, in the future.

  “You are not what I expected,” he said softly. “I saw only the authority figures and the history. Now I am able to see the real people, in all their dimensions. It was a rare and beautiful glimpse into a world I have only seen in vids, and few of those due to the coronal mass ejection that crippled our libraries and archives.”

  “I never expected that you would be our child,” Madeline replied, her eyes warm and sad, because this would be the last time for many years that she would speak with her son as an adult. “I thought of Mallory and Rhemun instead, because I had planned to return to active duty when we rescued Chacon.”

  “One should never make plans and expect them not to change with circumstances,” Dtimun counseled.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Spoken like a true military commander.”

  “Yes, but that career, and yours, must be sacrificed so that we can raise our son,” Dtimun told her with affection. “We will remain on active duty, however. And when the children are older, the emperor has approved your plan for a division of female troops, which you will lead.”

  Madeline glowed. “What a nice wedding present that was. Like my citizenship,” she added.

  “Your rescue made possible the Nagaashe treaty,” Komak told her. “The Nagaashe will assist you in research in years ahead. They are the key to time travel. I will say no more,” he added, smiling. “But all the tech that my generation enjoys has theirs for its basis.”

  “It’s amazing,” Madeline said.

  He nodded. He glanced from his father to his mother and struggled with emotion. “I will miss you both very much,” he said. “But I rejoice in the future that we will all share.”

  “I can’t wait!” Madeline said breathlessly.

  Dtimun glowered at the boy. “I know now that your parents must have been quite lenient with you to produce such rebellion and audacity,” he began.

  Komak held up his hand. “You are not lenient, and I have never been rebellious. I have simply been interesting,” he told his father. “Surely you do not wish me to grow up to be taciturn and unapproachable? My grandfather is the emperor, and he can be surprisingly outrageous.”

  Dtimun looked at Madeline. “Yes, like your mother.”

  She raised both eyebrows. “I’m not outrageous. I’m interesting.” She grinned.

  He chuckled. “So you are.”

  “I must go now,” Komak said. He smiled gently at them. “I told you once, but I will repeat it. It has been the greatest joy and privilege of my life to have served with both of you in the Holconcom, to know you as comrades. It is difficult to leave. But the present is where your focus should be now. I leave you with great affection. And I will see you very soon. Farewell and fair sailing, as the humans say.” He hesitated. “I love you both, very much.”

  And he was gone. Madeline’s eyes were bursting with tears that she couldn’t prevent. Dtimun was very still for a few moments. He would not let Madeline see his face. When he stood up, and noticed her emotional response to Komak’s farewell, he pulled her up into his arms and held her very close to him, rocking her in the silence of the room.

  “He was our son,” she whispered huskily. “Our child.”

&nbs
p; He smoothed her hair. “I could not be more proud of him,” he replied. “I was proud of him when I had no idea that he was my son. He is quite exceptional.”

  “Yes,” she replied softly. “Quite exceptional.” She closed her eyes and pressed closer to Dtimun. “The future looks very promising.”

  He smiled above her head. “Promising,” he agreed. His eyes closed as he rested his cheek against her hair. “Promising.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  WITH SO MUCH going on, Madeline hadn’t thought too much recently about childbirth. Her pregnancy, thanks to Komak’s mix of genetic materials, had gone quite smoothly, even with the growth spurts. She and Dtimun grew closer, and the more she learned about his culture, the more content she was to live in it. The most important thing was not material wealth or ownership of things. It was family. That was the core of Cehn-Tahr society. There was no money, as such. Each person or family contributed to a fund which was coordinated by machinery that could not be tampered with. Funds were distributed according to need. Greed was almost unknown. Clans lived in great compounds, and were related to Clans all over the planet and in its many independent colonies. Clan members could not marry within the Clan, regardless of the distance. Females might not go to war, but they controlled most of the planet’s finances and service organizations. They had great power. Many served in the Dectat, many more were governors of outlying colonies.

  However, Madeline would become the first female brigadier general in Cehn-Tahr history, and she made certain that the emperor understood her plans for it. She wanted a combat division, as capable as the Holconcom, with women in positions of command within it. Tnurat rolled his eyes, but he laughed and agreed and pushed the legislation through the Dectat. As Dtimun often said, Madeline could do no wrong in the eyes of the emperor.

  Dtimun walked in as Madeline was trying to study a vid on human childbirth, while Rognan and Kanthor looked on with fascination. The Meg-Raven and the galot had been her constant companions since the formal bonding ceremony. Madeline could not go two steps around the estate without her two companions. The emperor was highly amused. Kanthor rarely associated even with Cehn-Tahr and he hated Rognan, but he was quite protective of Dtimun’s unborn cub.

  Caneese and Rognan had been enemies for decades, but the prospective child had made friends of them. Now, when Caneese worked in her biolabs, Rognan occasionally found his way there to offer her a bit of fruit or a sample of some elusive fauna which she coveted for her experiments. Being part of a family was the most delightful part of Madeline’s new relationship. Even her father visited quite often and they grew closer, too.

  Dtimun was always nearby. He had new duties in the capital, overseeing imperial concerns of the Dectat, but as Madeline’s time drew near he was more often home than not.

  He frowned as he stared over Madeline’s shoulder at the wall-wide vidscreen. “This is unspeakably disturbing,” he said when footage of a human newborn, before it was cleaned up, flashed on the membrane-thin screen.

  She glanced at him and grinned. “Yes, but it’s part of the process.”

  “You are feeling all right?” he asked gently.

  She laughed and started to stand. “Of course I...” She gasped and doubled over and passed out.

  Dtimun had servants covering the room, some dispatched for Hahnson and Mallory, some sent to the court physicians, some to summon the imperial family. He delegated well despite his fears for his mate.

  She came to, held close in his arms. His eyes were royal blue with concern.

  “I’m okay,” she said in a wispy tone. “It’s just childbirth, Cehn-Tahr style. I read up on it in your library...” She clenched her teeth. The pain was formidable. “There’s no way this child can be born naturally, you know,” she managed to say. “He’s too big. It will have to be a caesarian section.”

  “A good thing I kept Hahnson and Mallory from attending Ambassador Taylor’s trial,” he mused.

  She laughed. “I would like to have gone, too. It’s the first time in Terravegan history that such a high public official has been tried for treason. He’ll be convicted, too. Lawson said Lokar as president of the Tri-Galaxy Council was making sure that there were no bribes or intimidation by publicizing Taylor’s long-standing ties to the Rojok Dynasty and his financial benefits gained from them.”

  “I would have enjoyed spacing him,” Dtimun muttered, recalling his anguish when Madeline had been reassigned by Taylor to a frontline combat unit and very nearly killed. Taylor’s intimidation had made her rescue impossible after her ship crashed. Dtimun had broken many laws in his efforts to successfully rescue her from Akaashe. He had actually risked his place in the succession for her. She hadn’t understood until she knew who he was. It had been a revelation, an indication of his feelings for her, which he never really voiced.

  “I wouldn’t mind watching Taylor walk through an air lock without a suit. But at least he’s through making trouble for the military,” she agreed. She clenched her teeth again. “They need...to hurry!”

  He called a servant and made threats. He never raised his voice, but the servant left the room at a dead run.

  Madeline could see him in command of an empire, with ease. He had the ability to inspire not only confidence and loyalty, but immediate action. Today, she was grateful. She never told him that she was afraid of the process. But she was.

  “I knew,” he mused, and took her hand tightly in his. “You cannot hide your mind from me now. Even when you try.”

  “I’ll take...more lessons,” she threatened.

  He managed a laugh.

  Hahnson was breathless as he entered the room, followed quickly by Mallory. “We ran the whole way,” he assured them.

  He activated his instruments and read Madeline’s condition. “We need everybody out of this room, now,” he told Dtimun. “And I want fresh, sanitary linen and a small tub of water.”

  Dtimun went out to organize those things.

  “Yes,” Rognan the Meg-Raven croaked, pausing at Madeline’s side. “Old Earth custom. Boil water and hit baby.”

  She burst out laughing, through the pain.

  “No!” she exclaimed. “There was no hot water on ancient Earth unless it was boiled. So they boiled hot water, mixed it with cold water, to make lukewarm water in which to bathe the baby.”

  “You hit the child, too?” Kanthor, the huge black galot, asked curiously, his feline features almost making an expression of disdain.

  She laughed again. “They held the baby up by his ankles and slapped him on the bottom to make sure he breathed when he was first born. That’s an older custom.”

  “Yes,” Rognan said proudly, with his new understanding of childbirth. “Boil water, hit baby.”

  “Out,” Dtimun ordered, pointing toward the hallway.

  Rognan ruffled his feathers and glared at him. Kanthor sat on his haunches and growled softly with his ears flattened.

  “I think that means they aren’t leaving,” Madeline commented.

  “It is unsanitary for them to be in here,” he said curtly.

  “Germs are everywhere,” she pointed out. “They don’t have any more than we do, and there are sterile fields already in place. Let them stay,” she coaxed. “They’re family.”

  He sighed angrily. But her expression softened his resolve. He sighed. “Yes. I suppose they are.”

  * * *

  IT WAS A long process. Painful and exhausting. Even with modern medicine, her vital signs had to be stable before the procedure began. There had been some difficulties with her blood pressure at the end of the pregnancy, and an annoying edema. Despite protocols, Dtimun refused to leave her. His worry was that of all expectant fathers, something no amount of tech could resolve in his mind. His mate and this child had become his world. He brooded, holding tight to Madeline’s hand a
nd restraining his protective instincts as Hahnson, necessarily having to touch her, worked to remove the child through a bloodless, very precise incision. But finally, there was a sharp little cry—Hahnson disappointed Rognan by not hitting the baby on the bottom—and Komak came into the world.

  Dtimun sat down beside Madeline, whose incision was already closed and flash-healed so that no mark showed on her belly. She was holding the baby in her arms. When she looked up at Dtimun, her eyes were misty.

  The child looked like both of them. He had Dtimun’s pale golden skin, although it was a lighter shade. He had Madeline’s eyes, or rather, the shape of them. When his eyes opened, they did not change color. But the physicians thought they would, when the child was a little older. Certainly the adult Komak’s eyes made the same color changes that other Cehn-Tahrs did. He was perfect in every detail. They uncovered him and counted toes and fingers and touched, with wonder, his soft little face.

  Dtimun was obviously moved by such a profound experience as parenthood.

  “One can read about it for years, but the experience itself is beyond the scope of any words,” he said finally, as he traced his son’s cheek and smiled.

  Madeline thought she’d never seen such an expression on anyone’s face before. It was one she’d carry all her life.

  She smiled wearily. “He’s perfect,” she pronounced.

  “Yes.” He bent and brushed his mouth over her face, as humans did. “Perfect.”

  * * *

  THE CHILD WAS christened Komak Maltiche Marcon Alkaasar Ruszel Alamantimichar—named for his father, his uncle, and his grandfathers. Colonel Clinton Ruszel came to the ceremony in full dress uniform with his entire officers’ corps in tow. He handed out some odd brown tubes of vegetation whose purpose was unknown. He had located the tradition on a vid and had a replicator fabricate some to pass around. At least one guest ate his and became deathly ill, after which the tubes were simply carried.