by Shae Mills
THE DAYS PASSED, AND as they did, Chelan’s agitation mounted, her excitement impossible to contain. But she knew better than to press her mate, as Korba would jump at the tiniest indiscretion on her part to nix her trip to RIBUS 7. To cope, she focused her attention back to a portion of the mystery corridor that had originally caught her eye. She stared at the slowly rotating schematic of the area, and her mind toiled. The Command Center trip was a given, but now, just as in the past, the Center was fully functional, heavily fortified, the most secure place on any of the ships other than the Bridges. If she was going to pick up on anything, that was not where she needed to be. Nothing—real, imagined, or ethereal—would come to her there. Or would it?
She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, then she held her breath as she patched in a direct secure link to Cleos, contacting Terig. The connection was made.
“My Lady?”
“I need to see you. I have something to discuss with you.”
“I shall be right up.”
Chelan felt butterflies take flight in her stomach. “Meet me in the conference room near Engine Room 8.”
There was hesitation before Terig responded. “Are you going to get me in trouble?”
Chelan took a deep breath. “Hopefully not. I will see you in an hour.” And she cut off the link.
TERIG WATCHED HER AS she paced circles around the small conference center. Finally, he cleared his throat. “You are crazy. You know that, right?”
Chelan stopped abruptly and faced him. “Look, I cannot explain my rationale to you because I cannot even explain it to myself.”
“That does not make me feel any better.”
“Terig, I have thought this through carefully. I have looked at all the data—”
“Then you know that section is still relatively unsafe.”
“Yes, and it is also one of the few areas where the crews are not working, because it has no strategic importance to getting RIBUS 7 functional again.”
“Did you miss the part where I said the area is unsafe?”
“It has been studied just like the rest of the ship. And I will not be going into the most structurally fragile area. I just need to get close.”
Terig whirled away from her and threw up his hands. “Jesus, woman.” Then he turned back to her. “Why me? Why not get Yanis or any number of others to take you?”
“Because chances are whoever else I chose would alert Korba.”
Terig pointed at himself. “I will alert Korba.”
Chelan stepped up to him and took his hand in hers. “You are of Earth genetics. You understand what it is like to have these feelings, these sensations, whatever the hell they are. I was led to RIBUS 7 in the beginning. I could feel her, or Fremma, or whatever, when others could not. You understand. Plus, you can get me to the ship discreetly. You go there often. Everyone else here is directly affiliated with me and would not go unnoticed.”
Terig flopped into a chair and stared up at her. “Okay. I will put my life on the line for you, but there are some rules to play by or I will abort your mission in a heartbeat.”
“Understood.”
Terig sighed. “When?”
“Tomorrow. Korba will be detained all day by meetings.”
Terig huffed in resignation. “Tomorrow it is.”
Chelan slumped into a chair. “Oh, Terig, thank you so much. This has been plaguing me endlessly. Maybe tomorrow I can put an end to it all.”
Terig frowned. “Just as long as his Lordship does not put an end to us both, and that ship out there too.”
COME MORNING, CHELAN was dressed in her uniform and shroud, ready for her clandestine trip to RIBUS 7. Terig’s shuttle docked in one of the more obscure hangars of RIBUS 1, and they started on their way. On board the flight deck of RIBUS 7, Terig was instantly cleared, as was Chelan. Once out of the hangar, using a scanner, they traversed the corridors with relative ease, ducking out of sight of any crew encountered so no questions were asked.
In no time they were at the forbidden corridor. Chelan took a deep breath, and Terig checked her helmet and the breathing apparatus they had brought along for her. Then he squared his shoulders and tried to quell the rising lump in his stomach. “Listen to me carefully. Go only where you can see well. Do not go into any of the crew’s quarters. Stick to the main corridors. I will keep you scanned and—”
“No,” she said. “No scanners. Whoever or whatever they are, they monitor all. They have always managed to avoid detection, so if they are still here, somehow, they must know when we are scanning for them.”
Terig cringed. “I don’t know, Chelan. This is beginning to scare the hell out of me.”
Chelan shook her head and smiled. “I will be okay. Quit worrying. But no scanners. They, whoever they are, will not come to me if they know they are being watched.”
“That is what I am afraid of. I do not want whatever it is to come.”
“Look, we both know the whole ship has been swept. Whoever it is is probably gone. I am simply here to see if I can get a read on anything—anything at all.”
“If you were one hundred percent sure that the beings who did this were gone, then the Command Center mission that Korba has okayed for you would be sufficient. I know you well enough by now to know that since you selected this section of the ship to tackle, you feel somehow, deep down, something is still here. And we both know from what happened on Rake that this being or whatever it is could easily by cloaked by Zenatropium garments.”
Chelan took a step away, recognizing the look of abject fear in Terig’s eyes. If she did not leave soon, he would not let her. “Maybe so, but I have to go.”
“Chelan—”
“I am going to be fine. I have always known that. If they are cloaked and wanted to do the Empire harm, they could have taken Korba out months ago. They have not, nor will they.”
Terig sighed. “Listen, then—one hour. I will wait one hour. If you are not back, I am coming in for you, one way or another, you understand?”
Chelan nodded. “One hour,” she assured him.
Terig nodded. “You take care.”
Chelan smiled at him and then ducked under the barricade. Tamping down her nerves, she started along the dim corridor.
Her steps were slow and deliberate, her eyes taking in all about her. Small lighting orbs bounced in the uncertain air, illuminating her way.
Soon she was around a bend and well out of sight of Terig. Then she stopped, no longer entirely sure of her decision, the long-abandoned corridors suddenly chilling her to the bone.
She peered down at an air-quality sensor. The air was fine—a little low in nitrogen, but nothing alarming. Looking ahead, she started forward again. After a time, she paused. In front of her the corridor was blocked, an Imperial sign for radiation damage posted. She looked to her right, another dim side corridor presenting itself.
She tapped into her memory, instantly remembering the schematics and where this corridor led: more crew’s quarters, if she was right. The transport tunnel that had paralleled the previous corridors diverted here and was no longer a factor.
She stood quietly, and for a moment she closed her eyes, willing herself to absorb any sensations that she could, but she was greeted only by dead silence. “Damn,” she mumbled. She had two choices. She could return to Terig, unsuccessful, or she could remain at the junction and simply wait, hoping something revealed itself to her—anything.
She sighed and glanced down the side corridor again. She took a few steps into it and looked at the sensor. The air was marginal in here, stagnant and unfiltered. Then a third option presented itself. Maybe she could follow this branch for a little bit and hope that something came to her. But she quickly dismissed the notion—with the air quality diminished, Terig would not be able to get to her if there was trouble. He had dressed normally to avoid suspicion. He had no protective suit and no air supply. If she continued, she was on her own, totally, and that was just plain silliness.
&n
bsp; Chelan peered at her equipment and called up the repair log pertaining to the corridor in front of her. It indicated that there was some damage, but it was a long way down, almost a thousand meters along.
She looked up from the monitor and squinted, straining to see what was in front of her, the light of a distant orb so faint it was practically useless. With her next deep breath she realized her equipment had registered the impure air and had switched her to her own supply. Thank god for technology, she mused.
She continued to stare at the orb, and then she blinked. Her heart skipped a beat. The light of the orb had seemed to fail for just an instant, and her thoughts scrambled. Was it her eyes? Or had the light of the orb actually fluctuated?
She continued to stare, her pulse quickening, and suddenly she was in motion, one cautious footstep in front of the other. She glanced left and right, observing all, wary of everything. Some of the doors to the crew’s chambers were open; most were not; all were hauntingly devoid of life. Finally, as she approached the lone orb, her eyes fixated on the light like a moth drawn to the flame.
She stopped, and reached out to it, touching it, but it appeared fully functional. Obviously, her eyes had played a trick on her. Or had something else interrupted the light beam?
She stepped around it and edged up the corridor a few more meters, but there appeared to be nothing except blackness beyond. If she wanted to continue, she would have to take the orb with her. Instantly she rejected that idea. She had already gone too far, and a deep sense of foreboding was settling over her fast. She went to turn back. And then it happened.
Chelan felt her stomach in her throat as the floor broke out from under her. She screamed and frantically grabbed for anything her gloved hands could reach. Miraculously, she found it, a bar of some sort just below the floor’s surface. She swung wildly off-balance and her hip hit something jagged. Pain tore through her entire pelvis and her eyes watered, nausea threatening. She hung on desperately as her body slowed its pendulous swaying, and then, finally, she was still.
Gathering her wits about her, she looked up, but it became quickly apparent that she could not reach the floor; the edge was too far above her. Then the bar dropped with a jerk, and she screamed again. It was breaking, and she was dangling in thin air. She held very still, calling on all her strength, fortifying her grip, and praying the bar would hold fast long enough for her to save herself.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to think. She needed to survey her surroundings, look for salvation. Taking a deep breath, she dared to look down, and her heart faltered. Her worst fears were confirmed. There was nothing below her but a massive hole. How many decks were pierced she could never begin to ascertain. She was not in space, but she was definitely far from anything akin to terra firma.
She closed her eyes, the pain from her hip causing nausea to foam in her stomach. Then she worked to clear her mind once again. If she could just hold on... But for how long? Only half an hour maybe? As soon as she was late, Terig would know to find a suit or get help from the crew.
Chelan gasped and her tears flowed. What was she thinking? There was no way she could hold on for that long. Terig would not get to her in time. She was doomed.
Her thoughts quickly became murky, contaminated by pain. Korba’s worst fears were being realized. She had disobeyed him; now everyone who loved her would pay the price. And Terig? His head would roll. But worst of all, her children would be without her.
Anguish beyond compare hit her. She looked down again, and then she squeezed her eyes tight against dismal reality of the yawning hole below her. More thoughts of her children intruded, and she sobbed. She held as tight as she could, but she could feel her strength flagging.
Soon, her hands began to go numb and her body began to shake. She did not want to linger in such emotional pain. It was time to let go and let RIBUS 7 claim her. It had been her home; now it would be her grave. Chelan said her farewells and released her grasp.
The vise-like grip that locked onto her forearm nearly tore her arm from her shoulder. She looked up, struggling to see what was happening, but all was dark. She felt herself pulled upward with such force she was sure a winch had her.
Then she was allowed to slump against the floor briefly before being dragged. She tried once again to get her bearings and to see who or what had her, but the hood of her shroud had fallen across her helmet.
Suddenly, she was released. She pulled at her hood and rolled, her wounded hip hitting the floor hard. She gasped at the searing pain that shot through her body, and her world instantly went black.
SHE HEARD HER NAME from the depths of a swirling darkness. “Chelan, come on. Come back to me.”
Chelan’s eyes shot open. “Where... Where am I?” she stammered.
Terig’s head sagged. “Thank god, you are okay.”
Chelan was on her back, and she craned her neck to look about her. She recognized the main corridor and the connecting smaller one. She was at the junction again. “What happened?”
Terig’s tortured eyes stared down at her. “Ye tell me that, lass?” He had switched to English, and his accent was thick with misery. “Ye failed t’return so I came looking. I found ye here... unconscious.”
Chelan furrowed her brows. Then she reached for him. “Help me up.”
Terig pushed her back down. “Nay. I know not what’s put ye on yer back. You’ll stay here till I get help.”
She grabbed his shirt. “No! No one can know I’ve been here.”
Terig frowned. “Hey, yer stubborn, yer pig-headed, and you’ll be the death of me yet. Why I let ye talk me into this is beyond me.”
Chelan held onto him tightly as he carefully pulled her up to her feet. Catching her breath, she peered up at him. “Shut up for a minute and let me think, you halfwit.”
“Halfwit? Me, is it?”
Chelan gave him a disarming smile. “Aye, you babble something fierce at times. Now, if you don’t mind, we need to get back to the RIBUS 1.”
Terig threw back his head, clearing his face of his long brown hair. “Aye, but can you walk?”
Chelan chewed at her lip and took a step. Pain pierced through her pelvis, but she managed.
Terig steadied her. “Where’s it hurt?”
“My hip mostly. I slammed into something. It’s just bruised, I’m sure.”
“Aye well, I can carry you to the hangar, but there you’re under your own steam.”
Chelan noticed his nerves had settled somewhat; his thick brogue was disappearing, his English now soft, tempered with deep concern. “I’ll manage,” she assured him. “The walking should loosen things up.”
Terig slanted her a skeptical glance. “You’d better be sure. If you collapse on me in the hangar, Iceanean warriors will be all over us like flies.”
Chelan took a few more steps. “I’ll be fine. Just get me back on the shuttle.”
Chelan limped the whole way to the main transport hanger, but with grim determination, she strode strongly to Terig’s shuttle. Unharassed, they left easily. Once back on RIBUS 1, they headed straight for some spare crew’s quarters, as Chelan was unwilling to risk Korba’s unexpected return to the Command Center.
Terig promptly ordered her to lie on the bed. There he got her to peel her uniform pants down a bit and expose her hip. He stared down at the injury. “You’ve got yourself a nasty bruise. Wouldn’t be surprised if your bone is chipped. Skin’s broken a bit too.”
Chelan glanced at it as he wiped away the dried blood. “Damn,” she muttered.
He looked at her sharply. “More like hell and damnation. I know you didn’t get this wandering the main corridor. You disobeyed me.”
Chelan let her head flop down onto the bed. “Please don’t be angry. I only—” She shot back up, wincing with pain, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You said you found me unconscious at the junction of the corridors?”
Terig’s eyes narrowed. “Aye,” he said warily.
Chelan looked at
him frantically. “So, you didn’t rescue me?”
Terig blanched. “From what or where, pray tell?” he almost shouted.
“Oh my god,” Chelan uttered.
Terig grabbed her by the shoulders, his accent thickening. “You’d better start explaining, my Lady.”
Chelan held onto his arms. “There were no crew there?”
“Nay, none anywhere near.”
“Sensors were clear?”
“Correct, until you had the featherbrained idea to convince me to turn the damn thing off!”
“Terig,” she implored. “You have to get me to the Command Center on RIBUS 7 right away.”
“Not bloody likely,” he snarled.
Chelan winced. “No, it’s safe in the Command Center—I know it is. And I never intended to go down the side corridor. I swear. But I thought I saw something—something like a shadow that crossed in front of a distant orb. Or maybe it was nothing. I didn’t know, but I had to check it out. Once there I could see that it was dark beyond that single orb, so I had turned to come back when suddenly, the floor just gave way! I dropped through but managed to grab onto a pipe or something. Just when I’d given up all hope, someone, or something, grabbed me by the arm. They must have dragged me to the junction. I couldn’t see a thing. I thought it was one of the crew.”
“Nay, lass, there were no crew there. Besides, they would have had to go through me to get to you. And they couldn’t get to you from the other end. That part of the ship is cordoned off, according to schematics.”
“I figured that out, since there were no more orbs. So whoever helped me may have been watching me all along.”
Terig shuddered. “Your mystery deepens, my Lady. I would venture to say that your Sir Lancelot came out of one of the shielded tubes. And since those have all been swept—”
“No, whoever it was must have been in one of the crew’s quarters. If they were in a shielded tube, they wouldn’t have known I was in trouble.”
“Did you scream?”
“Like bloody murder! But the shielded tube would have been too far away to for anyone in it to hear me. Whoever it was must have been somewhere closer. The shadow I saw—maybe that was them.”