by Shae Mills
Chelan clutched at him while clenching her jaw with resolve. "You don't know if that's true," she challenged.
Fremma winced. "The Empire's greatest Overlord chose to spare you and to keep you, Chelan. He—"
"Then why has he avoided me all these months? And why didn't he even take the time to say good-bye?"
Fremma fell mute. He couldn't hope to answer those questions. He had no idea what all went through his Commander's mind, but he knew a few things. "Chelan, his choice to lead the mission was militarily sound. This situation we are all involved in is far more serious than any of us first thought. Dar could have led it, but Korba is our best chance. He is a strategic genius the likes of which the Empire has never seen."
Finally, he released her and sat down heavily on the bed. He reached for her hands and held them tightly. Eventually, he looked up into her beautiful brown eyes. "Why don't you let go of him, Chelan? No good can come of this. What is done is done. Leave the past in the past. Korba is gone. Your family is gone. Earth is gone. You have come so far, learned so much. Rebuild from this point on. Take one day at a time, as none of us can predict the future."
Chelan sat down next to him, her body and emotions spent. She looked into space for a moment, her mind sorting through her murky options. Then she nodded her head and looked up into his loving eyes. She gave him a small smile. "Yes," she whispered, "maybe you're right. Maybe it's time to move on."
Chapter 29
Chelan awoke from her long, restful sleep and looked out at the room, its soft decor enveloping her with a sense of warmth and security. It was just like being back on Earth. She straightened slightly and moved onto her back, cradled by the huge plush pillows. Her eyes closed momentarily. She felt as though she could stay in the arms of the giant bed forever. It swaddled her in a serenity that was far from the stress of the previous day.
Chelan took one more look around the room, confirming Fremma's absence. She pulled back the heavy quilt with which he had supplied her and removed the white sheet from her slender body.
He had not stayed with her on their first night back on RIBUS 7 as his duties demanded he focus his attention elsewhere. Chelan knew that it had been a long time since he had slept, but then she also knew that these people required very little sleep. In fact, just how much they needed she didn't know and hadn't thought to ask. Chelan smiled to herself. She would find out firsthand just what their requirements were if Fremma decided to take her up on her offer.
Chelan stood in the cool air, her body immediately prickling. She shivered and went to grab her gown but was surprised to find a black garment folded neatly on top of it. She glanced around the room once again and then picked the clothing up. It was the same black-on-black fabric that made up the warrior's uniforms, and she let the material unfold. She looked at it carefully and held it up to herself. It was a military uniform, and it had been tailored specifically for her. It was obvious that Fremma had supplied it, and she was elated.
Chelan flew across the room and ducked into the en suite, conscious that the main doors could part silently and unexpectedly at any time. She showered quickly, excited to try on her new garb. Stepping from the water, she waited momentarily for the moisture to slip off her smooth, silky skin. Then grabbing the pants, she slid her long, sleek legs into them, the material gliding on as though she had been oiled. She then donned the top and looked down at the front opening. She pulled the material together and ran her nail up the center as she had seen the men do with their jackets. The outfit closed almost magically, right up to her slender neck. It held her body snugly yet comfortably, and Chelan felt a sense of immunity encircle her. She adored the way the taut material hugged her full breasts firmly, ridding her of the exposed feelings she felt when wearing her gown.
Chelan stepped over to one of the many full-length mirrors and smiled. She was delighted with what she saw. Her long, golden-brown hair shimmered against the infinite black of the uniform. The material followed her curves obediently, and the shadowy darkness made her already slim body appear just that much more slender.
Jubilantly, Chelan ran back into the bedroom and slipped into her knee-high boots and gloves. She looked down at her body neatly encased in the near-living skin. Then she squirmed under its touch. She wasn't sure if she liked the sensation or not. In some ways it felt as though she was being coated and caressed by a living organism, and in other ways, it felt like a close friend, its strong embrace imparting warmth and a refuge from harm through its protectiveness.
Deciding not to linger any longer, she draped her shroud over her shoulders and took a deep breath. It was time she learned to attach the cloak to her wrists and ankles herself. She sorted through the capacious under-material, collecting the hem sections and drawing them forward. There didn't appear to be any binding material visible, but Chelan knew that didn't mean anything.
Dividing the material roughly in half, she ran it about each ankle in small folds, and to her amazement, it simply adhered. She then repeated the procedure with the other half of the material. Next, she attached the arms of the shroud to her wrists, and her encasement was complete. How the men seemed to be able to simply toss the shrouds on an off without undertaking the task she had just performed was a mystery, but she was sure that Fremma would enlighten her at some point. Especially after he witnessed how long it took her to bind the fabric. Undoubtedly her technique would prove to be a source of endless amusement to him.
Squaring her shoulders, she began walking toward the doors. Suddenly, she hesitated. She had never left the Command Center over her months on RIBUS 8, and Chelan was unsure of herself. In fact, she was not even certain how the doors opened.
She pulled the hood of the shroud over her head for security and approached the doors apprehensively. She felt her stomach clench and her heart raced. But when she was only a meter away, they simply parted for her.
Chelan faltered as she caught the motion of the guards. Though the men stationed outside the suite had stepped aside, the second set of men standing outside the Command Center were stationary, and she knew that their blackened faces were on her.
Timidly, she stepped out into the corridor, barely able to breathe. Her advance slowed as she approached the two ominous figures. She faltered, wondering if they would allow her to pass. But as if on some hidden cue, they both took a step to the side, and the colossal doors of the Command Center slid open.
Chelan felt a surge of relief, and she hastened her entry, turning abruptly once inside and watching the doors snap shut behind her. She clutched at her throat as she tried to catch her breath.
"Good morning," came Fremma's cheery voice.
Chelan whirled around, her heart doing cartwheels. Any more stress and she swore she was going to collapse. He was sitting in the main command chair to the right of the consoles, a large, inviting smile on his lips. Chelan pulled back her hood and started toward him. "Good morning," she said quietly, her heart only now beginning to slow.
"How did you sleep?"
"Wonderfully," she smiled. "It was probably the best sleep I've had since leaving home."
"Excellent," he replied, and then his eyes returned to a screen. Chelan walked up beside him and watched as copious amounts of data scrolled past. She recognized the numbers and symbols of the Iceanean language, but they were obviously arranged in some sort of complicated code. Massive arrays of garbled combinations rolled on. Chelan looked down into Fremma's intense face. "Military status reports?" she asked, watching him expectantly.
He smiled as his fingers automatically tapped a few keys on the foreign keyboard. "Uh-huh," came his casual reply. Then he pointed to the screen. "These codes identify vessel types, and the figures next to them indicate the number of crew and their respective assignments. This next array provides a constant readout of the ships' systems. The final section of code identifies each person individually and his or her physical status. This array relays data on the crew's condition. Information here includes the heart rate, temp
erature, blood pressure, and general body chemistry of each individual." Fremma glanced up at her. "Most of the time we keep track of just the pilot. It's important to do this from here on long trips such as this because at times, large numbers of the contingency may be asleep, and if something goes wrong we can catch it from this end if they miss it out there. Body and ship readouts are continuously monitored by the main computer system, which will send out simultaneous alarms to us and to them if something or someone should fail."
Chelan was fascinated. "It's just like what we do with our astronauts in the space program, only this is a lot more sophisticated." Chelan was riveted to the screen. "Can you call up anyone?"
Fremma furrowed his brow as he wondered just who was on her mind. "Yes," he replied warily.
"Is Marri out there?"
Her choice was a pleasant surprise to him. "Sure." He straightened up, and with both hands he began to type rhythmically.
Chelan watched the screen but saw no change in the output of the data. Her attention was then diverted by a subtle humming, and she looked just beyond Fremma. To his left, a small square object about half the size of a memory card popped up. Fremma stood, and Chelan followed him as he moved to the central console.
Fremma explained. "I've called up the information on Marri and had it decoded. I'll display it for you on the main screen."
Fremma pushed the card down into a slot, and the main monitor instantly jumped to life. "She is flying a class-one primary fighter equipped with standard armament, including an array of long-range fusion missiles, fifty in all."
Fremma pointed to the long list of firepower that Marri's fighter was carrying, but Chelan understood little of it. "This is her distance from us in light-years, that is, in Iceanean years, and her absolute speed and position in five dimensions."
Chelan shook her head. "Five dimensions?"
Fremma glanced at Chelan's radiant face and continued. "Yes, five. We need to fold space to travel long distances in a reasonable time. Marri is presently asleep and her heart rate is"—Fremma did a brief calculation into Earth time—"thirty beats per minute. All her other body functions are normal, Iceanean normal, that is." He smiled.
Chelan was still hung up on the five dimensions and what Fremma knew about them, and the eleven dimensions her physics professors had mathematically suggested to exist in M-theory, but Fremma continued on as if he had just mentioned how to boil an egg.
"And these images are very helpful." He touched a button, and Marri's body readouts appeared along with several detailed three-dimensional internal scans, including that of her brain. Chelan's eyes were wide, absolutely thunderstruck by the technology. Fremma grinned at her and shook his head.
The screen continued to scroll, and finally Chelan ditched her questions on dimensions and pointed to a small 3-D display of points that seemed to float. The points were surrounded by a sea of numbers. "What's that?" she asked.
"That's her position in space and time relative to the other ships with which she is flying. The numbers are her call numbers and her military rank and position, both within the Imperial force and within the fleet she now travels with."
Chelan looked carefully at the configurations and then ventured, "She's flying as right wingman for this person." And Chelan pointed at the primary fighter.
She looked up at Fremma, and he forced a smile. "That's right. You should be reading this material instead of me."
Chelan had become intimately familiar with Fremma over the months of confinement with him, and she sensed his uneasiness. She smiled to herself and looked up at the screen. "She must be good," she commented quietly.
"She's one of the best," he said in a whisper. He hesitated. "Why do you assume that she is good?"
Chelan threw him a sly grin and then redirected her attention to the primary fighter. "Because she's flying wing for Korba, isn't she?"
"Yes," he said softly.
Chelan felt a lump beginning to form in her throat, and her eyes burned. But still she continued to smile. Strangely enough, by being able to watch him indirectly on the screen, she felt a sense of warmth embrace her. But she knew that she could not ask Fremma to call up the data on him. For her, that would be too personal, and it would dredge up the pain she was only now beginning to bury. "I'm glad she's one of the best," she uttered.
Fremma raised his hand to her silky skin, his fingers tracing tenderly along her jaw. He stopped at her chin and leaned forward, tasting her soft lips. "I am, too," he said in a low whisper.
Chelan smiled shyly and then looked away. "Am I interrupting your work?"
"No. I was just doing a spot check when you came in." Fremma shut off the main screen and sat on the edge of the console. "The computer will log all the material. I don't have to keep watch over it."
Chelan looked back at him and noted that his smile had turned into a mischievous grin. "What?" she asked, becoming chary.
"Well, let's have a look."
"A look at what?" Her skin pinked at his predatory gaze. She took a step back from him.
"You know what." And he lunged for her, catching her by her shroud. He pulled her into him.
Chelan dug in her heels in resistance, but her struggle was futile. "No!" she cried, suddenly deeply self-conscious.
Fremma sat on the console and hooked his legs around her, pinning her to him. He laughed. "Chelan, I can't train you if I can't see you. And you can't train if you can't get untangled from your shroud."
Chelan clutched the material tightly. "It's not my outfit you want to check out!"
"Says who?" he countered as he finally tore her grip away.
Chelan slumped forward, pressing into his chest, protecting the front of the shroud from him while he held her wriggling hands. "Darn you, Fremma," she laughed. "Now I'm never taking this thing off, ever!"
"Oh, really? But you've got to be fair, Chelan."
"Fair?" she cried.
"Yes. After all, I wear this uniform every day, and I know that it leaves little to the imagination. Therefore, if your eyes can ogle me day in and day out, should I not be afforded the same pleasure with you?"
At first Chelan was going to deny that her eyes had ever wandered over his magnificent body, but that was simply not the truth. Finally she ceased her pointless struggles and smiled impishly at him. "Okay. If that's what you want, then I concede. Let's get this over with."
As Chelan released the shroud from her wrists she felt the tension in his legs surrounding her ease slightly. Summoning every bit of courage she could, she slowly and seductively removed the shroud, letting it drop. She smiled coyly as she bit her lip, her alluring eyes penetrating his. She could see and feel him responding to her, and she preyed upon his immediate arousal. She tossed her hair back and then placed her hands firmly on his muscular thighs. She leaned into him and nuzzled in under his hair. In a low, sensual voice, she whispered. "Why stop at simply caressing with the eyes?"
She moved back and stared into his intense gaze. She held her breath as she slid her slender hands up his powerful legs. Finally, she pressed in close to his male fullness.
Immediately, she felt his legs release her, parting at her lascivious touch. A gasp of air left his lungs, and his eyes widened in surprise. Chelan seized her opportunity for escape. She jumped back before he could recover from his initial shock at her unexpected forwardness. Then she spun away from him as she sensed his body lurch into motion. But she had neglected to release the shroud from her ankles. He caught her just as her feet tangled, and she sprawled forward toward the floor.
Fremma grabbed her around the waist, twisting in under her and breaking her fall. Then he collapsed onto his back next to her, regaining his breath and chuckling to himself.
Chelan was laughing so hard she could hardly see straight. She pushed up onto her hands and knees and looked down into his handsome face. "I hope you're not mad at me?" she pleaded breathlessly.
He shook his head and smiled. "No, Chelan," he whispered. He closed his eye
s. "I deserved that."
Chelan smiled back at him as she sat on the floor. Her unruly hair cascaded over her face as she worked to untangle the shroud from her ankles. Then slowly she stood and looked down at him. "I guess I have a lot to learn about making effective escapes."
Fremma eased himself to his feet. "Oh, I don't know," he chided, bending down to pick up her shroud. "I rather like the fact that you can't get away from me."
Chelan took her shroud from him and turned toward the workout area. "Actually," she said boldly. "I'm becoming rather fond of the idea, also."
Fremma watched her walk up the steps, his eyes coursing over her long, lean body. He knew that he was going to enjoy his days with her immensely, and he followed.
Chelan waited for him just inside the workout area. She laid her shroud over a bench near the wall. Fremma came in and intensified the room's lighting. Chelan watched him as he approached her. "What would you be doing right now if you weren't ordered to mind me?"
Fremma was caught a bit off guard by the abrupt change in topic. "I guess I'd be out on the mission."
"Would you rather be there?"
"You mean out there as opposed to being with you, or out fighting as opposed to not?"
Chelan thought carefully. "Both, I guess?"
Fremma began to remove his gloves as his eyes looked deep into hers. "I would rather be here with you than out there, and I'd rather be fighting than be idle."
Chelan pondered his answer. "I would say that looking after me is to be idle. So if you would rather fight, then why wouldn't you want to be out on the mission?"
Fremma decided that her question was innocent curiosity, but he was not going to elaborate on his answer. This mission was wrought with sinister unknowns, and he was not going to destroy her lighthearted mood by overshadowing her with the possibility of Korba's impending death. "There will be many more missions, Chelan. To miss this one is not the end of my world. And besides, being with you is far from being idle. You are indeed a challenge." He grinned at her salaciously. "And in more ways than one."