RIBUS 7

by Shae Mills

  Fremma pressed back comfortably into his chair. He smoothed a gloved finger over his jaw as he studied her features. "Don't worry," he assured. "You'll get your space legs yet."

  Chelan looked back at him, his light humor forcing an unexpected smile from her. She continued to stare at him for a moment longer before turning her attention to the Command Center. Fremma watched her closely, losing himself in her deep-brown eyes. He noticed how the blackness surrounding them had receded. The powdery pink of her cheeks had returned, replacing the gauntness that had overtaken her earlier. Her beauty had him spellbound.

  Chelan was mulling over the illness that had incapacitated her when a realization suddenly struck her. "What did you mean when you said that it had been a couple of days before I was taken in for medical attention?"

  Fremma groaned to himself, but before he could utter a word, Chelan wobbled to her feet. She steadied herself on the back of the chair. "You mean... that Korba didn't... that he never checked—" Her sentence broke off.

  Fremma rose. "Chelan, Korba didn't know you were ill. He was immersed in his command. He would have helped you if he had known."

  Chelan straightened and gestured him to stop. She shook her head slowly. She needed to be strong, for it was obvious that she was not going to be allowed to return home... ever. And now, without Korba's interest in her, it was time that she learned to fend for herself and to make the best of the poor situation.

  She took a shaky step toward Fremma, noting the concern in his eyes. "It's okay, Fremma," she said quietly. "I know that I've partially brought this on myself. I haven't been the easiest to deal with, but that's all over with now."

  She smiled, but Fremma saw the strain behind it and the pain within it.

  "So," she said, trying to appear unaffected by her revelation. "Korba left me a wealth of information on the computer about your race and the Empire. I suppose I should get to it," and she began shuffling toward the one and only familiar keyboard.

  He followed her over to the work center. "Yes," he began, "Commander Dar took the liberty of transferring the entire file over here for your use during your recovery."

  Chelan swung around, almost losing her balance. "Commander Dar?"

  Fremma opened his mouth to explain but was suddenly interrupted as the main doors parted. Chelan saw Fremma jump to attention, his abrupt action startling her. She grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself and then redirected her gaze to the entrance. Fear bordering on panic struck her as the shrouded figure entered the room. He stopped at the top of the stairs.

  Chelan felt disoriented. She began to tremble, clutching the chair tighter as her knees weakened. She glanced anxiously at Fremma, half expecting him to protect her from the ominous black form, but the warrior's eyes remained fixed on the ebony figure. Chelan's attention was forced back to the entrance as the man began his descent toward her.

  "My Lord," acknowledged Fremma.

  Chelan swallowed hard in a futile attempt to moisten her dry throat. She felt her legs beginning to fail, but she dared not sit.

  "Fremma... Chelan," greeted the unfamiliar voice.

  Chelan's eyes darted to Fremma, and he smiled warmly at her. "Chelan, may I introduce to you, his Lordship, Commander Dar."

  Chelan felt herself holding her breath as she looked back toward the man. He swung his shroud off, revealing a flight helmet and a body Chelan would have said was Korba's, muscle for muscle. With a hand on each side of his helmet, he pulled it off along with the black headgear. Tossing his head back, a thick flowing mane of silver-blonde hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back.

  Chelan caught her breath as her gaze met the luminous blue eyes of the handsome man, his smile sending an unexpected jolt through to her inner core.

  Dar stepped up to her, extending his right hand, his left still holding his helmet. Chelan extended her hand slowly. Dar took her fingers gently in his and raised them to his lips, kissing them as his penetrating azure eyes remained fixed on her.

  Chelan realized she was staring, and she averted her eyes, reddening slightly at his gesture of respect.

  "It's good to see you up and around, young lady." He released her hand and walked just beyond her. He placed his helmet on the Command Center console. "I hope Fremma has been taking good care of you. And judging by your coloring, I see that he has."

  Chelan gave Dar a small smile and then found herself once again captivated by his looks. He was a replica of Korba, except for the blonde hair, and he was every bit as devastatingly handsome. But it was the shimmering mane that really drew her attention. It looked as though it had been streaked with molten silver. "Is that yours?" she asked in quiet amazement.

  Fremma stepped up beside her. "That's the same question we've all been asking him for years, Chelan."

  Both men chuckled, and Dar ran his hand through his hair. "Yes," he said, "I'm afraid it is." He paused for a moment, looking at her carefully. "Now, as for you, Chelan, I think you had better sit down."

  Dar took her by the arm, supporting her so that she could release her death grip on the chair. He swung it behind her and eased her down into it. Her relief at no longer having to stand showed on her weary face.

  "By now, I'm sure that Fremma has told you that you have free run of this area. and I believe you know where everything is." Dar stepped back a few paces and sat down in the main chair. "The layout of this Command Center is the same as that on RIBUS 7, except that it is located in a different part of the ship, for security reasons."

  Chelan was confused, yet she did not speak, still spellbound by the god across from her.

  "You have my quarters to yourself and will not be disturbed by anyone, except possibly Fremma here. I'll be out of your way most of the time as I'm busy with a project requiring my utmost and undivided attention. For the most part, my presence is demanded on the Bridge and elsewhere."

  Chelan glanced at Fremma and then focused her attention back on Dar.

  "I have arranged for Fremma to stay in quarters across the corridor. The main entrance door has been programmed to your approach, and you may enter and exit as you please should you need or desire Fremma's attention or assistance. The guards outside are ever present and are aware of your existence. However, I do ask that you restrict your movements to the areas contained within and between the two rooms." Dar's gaze intensified significantly, and his voice became more serious. "All other areas outside this Command Center and Fremma's quarters are strictly off-limits."

  His tone then softened as he rose to his feet in one fluid motion. "Even though I welcome your company, and find your presence"—Dar hesitated, his eyes taking in her complete body—"interesting, not to mention pleasing, my guards are under orders to incapacitate you if for any reason you see fit to wander."

  Chelan shrank under his scrutiny and felt a twinge of uncertainty. She wondered just what the term incapacitate meant.

  Dar ascended the stairs to the top and turned once again to face her. "In the interim, while you are regaining your strength, I know that you are aware of the material Korba has supplied for you. You have complete access to that now, and Fremma will help you with any questions you may have. At times I will be here to use the Command Center and the workout area." A small smile touched his lips. "Please don't be afraid to approach me or to ask me questions. I am your host, not your warden."

  And with that, he tipped his head toward her, his smile broadening. He signaled in some silent language to Fremma and then turned and strode into the workout area.

  Chelan watched him leave, finding that once he was out of sight she could once again breathe normally. She swiveled in her chair and faced Fremma.

  Fremma nodded in the direction that Dar had gone. "And that, my fair lady, is the Commander of this ship, RIBUS 8."

  "RIBUS 8," she repeated, looking into Fremma's eyes. "I didn't realize that there were two ships together."

  Fremma seated himself directly in front of her. "Not many people do," he said lightly. "I
t's not a common occurrence that two of the Empire's Imperial Battleships link. And it's not exactly public knowledge throughout the galaxy. I suppose that the only people keenly aware of the situation besides us and the Empire's High Command are our enemies. But in the fine art of self-preservation, the probability of anyone waging any type of attack against us is close to nil."

  Chelan's head suddenly filled with questions. "How many battleships are there?"

  "Three in active service in this sector of the galaxy right now. The third ship is far from here, commanded by a man called Toran. We actually have thousands of RIBUSes at the ready if we're called into military action. In the meantime, they patrol all that is the Empire."

  Chelan smiled mischievously. "Does Toran look anything like Korba or Dar?"

  Fremma chuckled. "Yes, as a matter of fact, he does." He tilted forward and smiled at her. Raising his eyebrows, he elaborated. "Actually, he looks very much like Dar and Korba, but I'm afraid he lacks Dar's blonde mane."

  Chelan beamed. "Is it a prerequisite of the Empire that all Commanders be built like gods with faces to match?"

  Fremma laughed and then raised himself out of his chair, shaking his head at her. "Gods," he repeated. "Yes. I suppose they could be perceived as gods." He threw her a glance and then hesitated. "They have the power of gods," he added introspectively.

  Chelan struggled to her feet and looked at the warrior. She wondered why she had made the analogy of the Commanders to gods, if it had been because of their Adonis-like looks, or if it had been because of the power she perceived within them. After all, she still knew little about the Empire, its missions, its hierarchy, or anything about the ships and the men Dar and Korba commanded.

  She also questioned her revelation as her eyes scanned Fremma. He, too, was a god-like being, with his nearly seven-foot muscular frame of perfectly proportioned power. He appeared younger than Dar and Korba, but like them he was hard as steel, with an equally handsome face.

  She watched Fremma and wondered why he was suddenly so quiet. She cautiously approached him. "I'm sorry if I've said something to offend you."

  Fremma turned toward her, a smile touching his lips at her advance. "You have said nothing wrong," he countered. "I just wondered how many civilizations in the past have perceived us to be gods only to find out later that we were more akin to your devil."

  Chelan stared back into his azure eyes. "I don't perceive you to be the devil," she said softly as she took half a step toward him.

  "Oh no?" he challenged.

  Chelan blushed. "Well, I no longer see you as the devil."

  Fremma laughed and reached for her, drawing her into him. Chelan was surprised by his embrace but found herself welcoming it. Her arms surrounded his waist and she leaned into him, her cheek to his chest. She needed reassurance, and she needed desperately to be held. His arms encircled her and pressed her closer. The embrace continued, and Chelan found herself wishing it would last forever. For reasons she didn't understand, she felt a security and a comfort in Fremma's strength and familiarity.

  But all good things come to an end, and Fremma released his hold. He pushed her back and placed a hand on either side of her face. Their eyes met in a moment of hesitation, and Chelan found herself taking several deep breaths.

  Fremma spoke quietly. "I think it is time you got off your feet."

  Chelan continued to gaze up at him. She finally nodded once in agreement, and he took her arm and escorted her back into Dar's chambers. Chelan had not realized how tired and weak she was until her head hit the pillow. Her eyes closed immediately, and she drifted off into oblivion.

  Fremma pulled the blankets over her and pressed them tightly about her. He looked down into her tranquil face. The warmth that had permeated into him from their earlier embrace still lingered around him as he watched her sleep, and he settled into the chair beside the bed.

  Fremma realized that, from his very first glimpse of her, he had been captivated by the demure woman, and a portion of his heart was already hers. He had no comprehension of how that had happened, but that did not seem to matter. What did matter was the unexpected desire within him. He wanted her, but he knew it could not be. He had read of her alien ways, and for now, her heart belonged to Korba.

  Fremma drew a deep and uneasy breath. Korba was Fremma's Commander, and until the Warlord figured out his own feelings toward her, Chelan would never be free. Until that happened, if it ever did, Fremma's hopes and desires would never be realized, for no one dared challenge the Overlord for any reason, especially not for a woman. No one would, for no one ever could and hope to survive.

  Chapter 21

  Time ceased to exist for Chelan. Her obsession became the computer and the information contained within it. She absorbed the material with a passion and displayed a devotion that bordered on excessive. Her hunger to consume vast quantities of knowledge surrounding the Iceanean people was trumped only by her preoccupation with learning the Iceanean language. Only when utterly exhausted did she forfeit any of her precious time to sleep.

  Chelan had always been extraordinarily adept at learning languages, and though the Iceanean tongue was extremely complex, she knew that all it required was a little more time than usual and a whole lot of dedication, both of which she had in abundance. The most difficult part was going to be the alien alphabet, as the language itself was structured logically with no bizarre pronunciations and no exceptions to the rules. As a result, it wasn't very long before she was eager to try out some of the phonetics on Fremma.

  She had seen a fair amount of the young warrior over the weeks and had quickly grown to like him. She had developed a guarded trust in him early, and found that talking to the handsome man came easily. For the first two or three days after their initial embrace, she had avoided direct contact with him out of shyness and an ingrained wariness. But he appeared to be a gentle man, and he was acutely perceptive. He seemed considerate of her timorous personality and respected her body space. He could judge her emotional state and mental well-being almost instantly, and he always acted accordingly and appropriately.

  At times, Chelan felt that he could read her mind, and soon her trepidation of him turned to acceptance and curiosity. Now, she looked forward to his attentive company and his lighthearted humor. Occasionally, his sheer size intimidated her, but his warm smiles and affable personality always melted away any lingering reticence.

  Chelan was actually surprised by how quickly she accepted the warrior, considering her dire situation and her deep-rooted fear and distrust of men. But she realized that she was alone in an unfamiliar and uncertain world. The Commander with the beautiful blonde hair had never returned, and Fremma was her only oasis from devastating solitude. And besides, she finally admitted, the man, like Korba and Dar, was simply a splendid example of flawless male beauty. She would have had to be either dead or blind not to be attracted to him, and his easy personality and gentle demeanor only drew her to him that much faster.

  Fremma stepped silently into the Command Center, finding Chelan slumped over the computer once again. Her undaunted appetite for the material always impressed him. He had watched her read file after file without so much as a shift in her position. She was obviously highly disciplined, more so than he would have expected from an alien, and he felt a sense of pride because of that. Just why, he was not sure. And just exactly why did not matter.

  Fremma remained very still, his eyes riveted to her. Over the past weeks, she had never ceased to amaze him on one hand and amuse him on the other. She was like no other woman he had ever encountered. He realized that originally he was drawn to her feminine beauty. But with time, she had captivated him with more than her voluptuous body and her heart-stopping facial features. She was alien in every sense of the word, her every attribute strangely exotic, her every movement strangely enticing.

  She was opposite in many ways to his own women, and the actions and words that were obviously innate to her were often unfamiliar and alluring to hi
m. But from what he deduced of Calley's ways and of the customs of its peoples, he knew that her seductive shyness and her demure demeanor were simply her. The feelings that she aroused in him were innocent and definitely unintentional, and although his desire to touch her often dominated his senses, his mental discipline and his determination not to frighten or compromise her in any way always prevailed.

  He now knew why the great Warlord had fallen for her, but what he did not comprehend was why Korba had let her slip away. If Fremma could help it, and if he could have her, he would not make the same mistake.

  Fremma's immediate struggle, however, would come with his own ardently desirous body. As time had gone by, he could feel her fear of him dissipating and her guarded acceptance of him acquiescing. She now allowed him close to her, and at times the proximity of her warm body nearly sent him over the brink. Soft, innocent brushes of her hand over him during conversations, and memories of their earlier embrace, rendered him fixated on her guileless, sensual seductiveness.

  He took a deep breath as his eyes traced down her beautiful, golden-brown hair. Today would undoubtedly be no different. He would be caught up by her radiant beauty, her warm smiles, and her unquenchable thirst for knowledge. She would struggle with her understanding of his ways and his people while he struggled with his desire and possibly with a blossoming love for the young alien. But no matter what happened and no matter how guarded her acceptance of him, he could no longer deny his irrepressible need to be near her.

  Fremma crept up behind her and peered at the screen. She had chosen a section on Iceanean culture, and more specifically, was pouring over a segment on male-female interactions.

  Fremma stepped to her side, coming within range of her peripheral vision. Chelan was no longer startled as she had become accustomed to the silent comings and goings of the man. She straightened and smiled up at him. "This is fascinating," she said, barely able to tear her eyes away from the screen. "You could teach our people a lot when it comes to interpersonal relations."