RIBUS 7

by Shae Mills

"Thank you for your extraordinary patience," she murmured, "and for the beautiful gown." He rocked her gently in his arms. "And thank you for the fabulous tour," she whispered mischievously.

  "Tour?"

  "Yes, tour." She pushed away from his embrace, and in one graceful motion quickly slipped her new gown over her head. She walked over to the shower, scooped up his uniform, and tossed it to him. Then she returned to him and stretched up to his lips, kissing him passionately, her tongue tasting the inner depths of his mouth. She released him and nuzzled his neck. "You know, the one of the ship you promised to give to me the next time you came here?"

  "Ah," he muttered in a low rumble. "How quickly you cast me aside, breaking my heart and replacing me arbitrarily with my ship."

  "Arbitrarily?" she repeated. "Hardly an arbitrary choice for your replacement, my Lord," she began, once again switching to flawless Iceanean.

  Dar's face shone as he remembered her words of love spoken to him earlier. Somewhere along the way they had lapsed back into English, but now she pursued his native tongue, and it warmed him. She hiked herself up onto the table, drawing her knees up and hugging them. Then she averted her eyes as he began to dress, her habitual modesty once again surfacing, he noticed.

  "Quite the contrary," she said playfully. "I put a lot of thought into my choice. My new suitor had to be strong, forceful, aggressive, with muscles of steel, armed to the teeth, and at the same time, he had to be comforting and compassionate to those he harbors. I think that this ship has all those qualities, don't you, my Lord?"

  Dar slipped his gloves on and walked over to her. "So if I too possess all those fine qualities, why am I being replaced?" He smiled slyly.

  Chelan released her legs and surrounded his waist with them, crossing her ankles behind him. Dar finished with his gloves and then ran his hands up the satin-smooth legs revealed before him by the slitted dress. Her hands travelled up his ebony-covered chest and wrapped around his neck. He turned his head into hers in search of her soft lips. Chelan let them touch briefly, and then she pulled back and looked deeply into his blue eyes. "Because, my Lord," she began softly, "the cold hardness of the ship cannot tempt and distract me with nearly irresistible sexual prowess."

  Dar smiled as he drew her back to him. "Then may I suggest that you have just made your first very poor choice of suitors. And may I add that the term, 'nearly irresistible,' be struck from your Iceanean vocabulary so the proper choice of suitor can get on with tempting and distracting you successfully."

  He pressed aggressively into her lips. Chelan conceded temporarily, and then flirtatiously but forcefully pushed him away from her. "You promised," she admonished as she fended him off by planting her feet firmly in his solar plexus.

  Dar laughed. "All right, you shall have it your way!" He reached for her with catlike swiftness, grabbing her off her perch so quickly that Chelan shrieked. He twisted and sat upon the table, effortlessly turning her in midair and placing her over his lap. "Now," he said as he tore a glove off with his teeth. "I'm going to point out to you three very important lessons."

  Chelan was temporarily disoriented, her rapid movement through space nearly making her dizzy. She attempted to roll off him by turning on her back, but Dar grabbed her hips and shoulder, pinning her firmly across his legs. "First of all," he said with authority as he brought his bare hand down sharply on her curvaceous bottom, just hard enough to produce a slap.

  "Dar!" Chelan hiccupped with laughter. "What are you doing?"

  "First of all," he repeated, "that is for having assumed that I would ever shun you for whatever reason, my pretty lady. In the future, you will never make that mistake again, will you?"

  Chelan bit her finger as she tried to quit laughing.

  "Second," he started.

  Chelan reached forward and caught the edge of the table, pulling with all her might. But Dar snared her around the waist. "Oh no, you don't. I'm not finished with you yet!"

  "Dar!"

  "Second," he raised his voice over hers as he spanked her again.

  Chelan began to laugh uncontrollably, and she tried to remove some of her hair from her face. Dar grabbed both her arms and held them behind her back with one hand as he rubbed the sting out of her bottom with the other. "Second," he repeated, "that is for refusing my generous offer to caress and kiss every inch of your sensual body, bringing you to the pinnacle of sexual gratification and ecstasy, the likes of which I know you have never experienced."

  Chelan caught her breath, and she went limp. "You assume a lot in your arrogance, my Lord." And she began to laugh again.

  Dar smiled. "I think not, Chelan. But that comment brings me to my third point."

  Chelan summoned all her strength. She wrenched her hands against his thumb, breaking his grip, and twisted from him like a feline.

  Dar was surprised by her strength and agility, and he watched with awe as she landed deftly on her feet in a hasty bid to escape him. But as fast as she was, Dar was faster. He seized her about the waist. "What did I just say about running?" he reminded.

  Chelan whirled around in his arms, grasping his head in a headlock. She once again amazed him as she brought him to one knee before she herself stumbled and released her grip. She tried to kick away from him, but he grabbed her ankles and pulled her back to him. His smile was broad, and his chest expanded with unexpected but welcome exertion. "Calm down!" he ordered, and then broke out laughing. "I have yet to make my third point."

  This time he clutched her about her chest, pinning her arms to her sides. He tensed his biceps slowly, exerting just enough pressure with his muscles to immobilize her. He stretched his legs out in front of him and pulled her hips back over him. This time he raised her gown, exposing her beautiful bottom to him. Chelan gasped. He momentarily hesitated, her shapely form temporarily stealing his breath. His first salacious thought was how much he wanted to run his fingers into her moistness, caress her, enter her, but he tamed his impulsive need, slapping her gently again, and then spoke in a low, commanding voice. "And that, my gorgeous woman, is for your obvious insubordination, insolence, and general show of disrespect toward a high-ranking Commanding Officer in the Imperial Fleet. In fact, one of the highest ranking officers, surpassed only by the Lord God Emperor, Ticees himself." And with that said, he released his grip on her and collapsed onto his back.

  Chelan was still attempting to stifle great peals of laughter. She rose off his legs and looked down at him through her tussled hair. Then she grinned at his vulnerable position. Throwing her hair back, she straddled his waist.

  Dar looked up at her hovering over him, her firm, pretty thighs exposed on either side of him. He watched as she ran her hands through her long tresses, letting them cascade over her shoulders and down her back.

  She smiled at him as she moved her weight forward, pressing his arms above his head. She leaned down and ran her tongue up his neck to his lips, kissing his inviting mouth. "And that," she began softly, "is for all your precious lessons."

  Dar sobered as she sat back, releasing him. She was stunning, and the feel of her body splayed over his sent renewed shock waves through his pelvis. He tensed his abdominal muscles, raising his upper torso fluidly. He then slipped his hands up her thighs through the slits in her dress and cupped her warm buttocks. He kissed her passionately. "And that," he breathed, "is for simply being the most beautiful woman in the galaxy."

  He kissed her ear, her neck, and her shoulder. She could feel his hands moving over her, his fingers just slipping around her enough to caress her sensitive inner thighs. She moaned, and her muscles tightened. He pressed hard into her flesh and then drew his hands back slightly, his action parting her soft, vaginal folds to his lap.

  Chelan's legs quivered as she attempted to raise herself off of him. She felt a warm flow of fluid emanate from deep within, lubricating her swollen tissues. But her legs were weak, and she could not move. She drew her head back and looked into the embers of his eyes. She could see that he knew ex
actly what he was doing. He was manipulating and caressing her indirectly as he adhered to his promise of not touching her outright. Chelan also knew that she was rapidly losing her physical defenses.

  Deliberately, he released his pressure slowly, her warm folds meeting and sending a spasm of sexual desire through her. She closed her eyes and let her head fall against his chest. Skillfully, he parted her flesh again, and the most delicious feelings dripped from her depths. His fingers allowed her delicate inner recesses to meet anew, and he pressed ever so faintly into her as every fiber in her being clenched with passion. He bit into her neck, his breath searing. Opening her a third time, he pressed down on her thighs with his forearms, her moist well encountering his hardness. She moaned, the agony of indecision splitting her as surely as his fingers. Finally, using the only avenue still open to her, she whispered. "Oh, please, no."

  Dar's hands receded obediently back to her outer thighs, and she collapsed against him, her femininity aching. She opened her eyes and was surprised to see him smiling deviously at her. "What's that for?" she panted.

  "It's because I know that it is only going to be a very short time before you yield to my second lesson."

  Chelan allowed herself a small smile. She drew a deep breath, knowing full well in her heart that he was right.

  Dar stood, his powerful thighs lifting her effortlessly with him. Slowly, he let her feet touch the floor. Still holding her, he asked softly. "Do you still want your tour?"

  Chelan wobbled, feeling strangely feeble. "Maybe another day," she uttered faintly.

  Dar grinned with satisfaction and released her. He walked over to the table and picked up his glove and his knives. Spreading his legs slightly, he flicked each blade down skillfully, each one nestling into its proper sheath on each side of his boots. He turned back to her. "Well then, I shall take my leave and get back to work."

  Chelan smiled at him as she fiddled with a strand of hair. "When will I see you again?"

  Dar adjusted his glove. "I'm not sure at the moment, Chelan. A large contingency of my men will be embarking on a mission soon, and I am very busy."

  Chelan nodded her complete understanding, but at the same time she wished she could have his companionship forever.

  "Don't worry," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "I am not abandoning you. I look forward to returning to you whenever I can."

  Chelan looked away, ashamed at her feelings and embarrassed that they were once again so easily read. "I'm being selfish," she whispered sheepishly.

  Dar walked up to her and rubbed his hand down her arm in reassurance. "Not wanting to be left alone for extended periods of time is hardly being selfish. Due to the unfortunate circumstances under which we both find ourselves, we are forced apart. I, too, hope that changes soon."

  Chelan looked up at him as an idea occurred to her suddenly. "Where have you been sleeping?"

  "Well, actually, I haven't been sleeping much, come to think of it. But when I have, I used spare quarters near the Bridge for convenience."

  Chelan saw an opportunity, and she blushed. "Would you like your bed back?"

  Dar traced her hair. "With or without you in it?" he grinned, knowing full well that over the next two weeks until the mission was dispatched, he would probably not sleep at all.

  "With me," she said in a timorous whisper.

  Dar stared at her, and her offer suddenly became a tempting possibility. Then, without warning, his mind was jolted to reality as he remembered Korba's request—to ruthlessly dispatch her if she ever began to interfere with his Imperial duties or command. Dar's heart skipped several beats, and he looked down at her. "I can't, Chelan, for time is of the essence. But for the record, if we were not going to war, your offer would be graciously accepted." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then he turned and left.

  He walked through the workout area and into the Command Center. There he stopped and drew several deep breaths. Time was indeed of the essence, and he had so little of it. If he was going to keep the beautiful alien, he had to possess her heart before he returned her to RIBUS 7 and to Korba's domain.

  Dar felt his heartbeat take off as he pictured sharing his nights with her. But he knew that it would interfere with his command, the very thing Korba had anticipated and feared.

  Damn, he thought. "Damn you, Korba," he said under his breath. "Release her heart. Release her to me!" And with that, he quickly donned his shroud and bolted from the Center.

  Chapter 25

  Korba sat down heavily in his chair and began to rub his weary eyes. He hesitated momentarily before looking back at the massive pile of data he had researched. His mind worked through the material one more time.

  Just then, the main doors parted, and Dar strode in, removing the hood of his shroud and his flight helmet. Korba rose to greet him, their forearms locking. "What's happening?" asked Dar. "Your message indicated urgency."

  Korba turned and leaned against the console. "I asked Manza to do some work on the Rigilean culture and their people. Basically, I asked him to come up with a psychological profile of them. I don't have to tell you that they're a rather strange and secretive lot, preferring to remain aloof and out of the Empire's way, I assume hoping that the Empire will reciprocate and stay out of theirs."

  Korba continued. "I then had a team do some research for me on the previous Rigilean complaints voiced to the Empire. I wanted to know what the complaints were, what the Imperial delegations found, and how the problems were solved. My people's research was very thorough." And Korba dropped a file disk on the console.

  Dar picked the disk up and watched Korba carefully. "What's this leading up to?" he asked warily.

  Korba hesitated. "It adds up to a gut feeling I have about this mission."

  Dar braced himself and waited for the bombshell to hit. He had had plenty of experience with Korba's gut feelings and his uncanny intuitions regarding the battlefield. This apparent sixth sense set Korba apart from all the other Warlords in military prowess, flawless executions, and ultimate victories. It was always a wise move to heed his premonitions, for the past had proven that he was simply never wrong.

  Dar nodded. "What do you need?"

  Korba cracked a smile at Dar's ability to jump several steps along the conversation to get at the crux of the matter. He continued to stare at Dar, but his smile waned. "I need fifty thousand additional men from each ship."

  Dar nearly staggered backward. "Ticees would never permit such a drain on the battleships' reserves, especially with two of them travelling together. You are leaving each ship with only half the crew needed for protection, side missions, patrols, and maintenance."

  "I know. That's why I want it organized without the Emperor's knowledge."

  Dar looked down at the floor as he tried to process everything at once. He glanced back at Korba. "You force a dangerously short preparation time, my friend, a critically inadequate duration for the mobilization of such a contingency, not to mention the overall changes to plans and strategies."

  "I know. Will you help me?"

  "Of course," came Dar's instant response. "Even though Ticees will lynch us both upon our arrival home."

  Korba smiled weakly. "If I'm right, and I don't use the extra men, we won't be arriving home."

  Dar suddenly realized the monstrous proportions of the dilemma Korba had been grappling with. Dar had never heard his friend speak about any mission with such pessimism, and he felt every muscle in his body tighten. "Are you going to share the basis for your decision?"

  Korba turned and slumped into his chair. He watched as Dar went to the end of the Command Center and retrieved a couple of glasses filled with the blue liqueur. "Thank you," Korba said as Dar handed him a drink.

  Korba began. "It started out as something eating at the back of my mind, a sense of foreboding, I guess you could call it, with no recognizable basis. That's why I ordered the compilation of this data in hopes that I could pick out some detail to justify my feelings."

/>   Dar sat down, spreading his shroud around him. Korba continued. "The Rigileans, for whatever reason, and it doesn't matter why, have never fully integrated into the Empire. They prefer to be left alone to solve their own problems and usually ask for help only after all other internal solutions have been exhausted. I assumed that this situation would be no exception. The problem with their prolonged waiting in the past has been that the situation lingers on and usually gets totally out of hand in the meantime."

  Dar interrupted him. "But I read the complaint put forth to the Empire on this matter. The Rigileans did not seem to be in a panic about any immediate ratification."

  "Exactly," said Korba dryly. "They have downplayed this problem just like all the previous problems that have developed. Some confrontations have gone so far as to require our military intervention."

  Dar paused. "I still don't understand. We have already guessed its seriousness by assuming the worst, that ROPE is involved."

  Korba nodded in agreement, but added, "The problem, though, is the Rigileans' insufferable ability to delay prompt notification of a problem to the Empire, right from the time they realize its momentous proportions until their stubborn council realizes that it's out of control."

  Dar leaned forward. "What's their average time delay?"

  Korba's eyes narrowed. "Some of their economic and political crises have dragged on for nearly forty Imperial years before they've finally admitted to needing help. Those crises were caused by them alone without the added possibility of ROPE holding up communications for who knows how many additional years."

  Dar let his head fall back as he exhaled sharply. "Forty years," he repeated. "At least three generations of finely honed and genetically manipulated warriors."

  Korba nodded. "No longer a fledgling breeding colony. And we already know that ROPE has been involved in genetic engineering experiments for generations, although no formal breeding colonies have been located."

  Dar stretched forward again. "Do you suppose that they have acquired any of our genetic lines?"