by Shae Mills
Fremma nodded. "And it's obvious. But it is crucial that you become ambidextrous. An assailant will always look for, and prey upon, such a drastic weakness. It is imperative that you are as good with one hand as you are with the other."
Chelan nodded.
"I'm going back to do some more spot checks. You can stay here as long as you wish. It will probably take several days, possibly weeks, until you are consistent and comfortable with your throws. And you must be equally adept with both hands. You should keep your arms taped. If I am not around when you go to practice, any one of the guards outside will be able to bind you properly. Just ask. Keep up with the arm exercises, and when you are proficient with the weights and consistent with your throws, you can begin with the actual knives."
Chelan nodded to him again. Fremma smiled at her and then slipped into his jacket. He pulled on his gloves and then leaned over to her, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
"Good luck," he whispered.
Chelan took several deep breaths as she watched him disappear into the Command Center. She returned to the little white weights. She picked one up in her left hand and stared down at it. She could never hope to be as good as his women, and no doubt he knew that. But for some reason, she wanted desperately for him to be proud of her.
She looked up at the target and squeezed the weight. Then she began her training, attacking it with enthusiasm, commitment, and an overpowering determination to be the best she could be, both for herself and for Fremma.
Chapter 30
Chelan now devoted most of her energy to her physical training. She took time out only to use the computer briefly and to catch up on sleep when needed. She hadn't caught even a glimpse of Dar, which was not unusual, but Fremma was also absent more often. Both men were preoccupied with duties pertaining to the ship, and even more preoccupied with the work surrounding the so-called mission.
Today's routine was just like that of all the previous days. She had put in some time at the computer and had just finished training with the weights and then stretching. Now she was getting tired. The Command Center remained silent, and she had worked on her own, actually enjoying the solitude in a way. She could train as much as she wanted, how she wanted, and she could make as many mistakes as she pleased without coming under Fremma's watchful eye.
Now, she stood facing the target, rubbing her aching shoulder. She knew that she had already overdone her exercises for the day, but she wasn't going to stop without taking a shot at her quarry before retiring. With her right hand, she picked up a weight, her eyes intent on her assailant. She took a deep breath and aimed. Then, with all her strength, she hurled the small object. The weight flew level and sure and struck the white square dead center. Chelan smiled as she picked up the second weight. She aimed and threw, again hitting the target precisely. Eight more weights were thrown, and eight more direct hits were scored. She took a few deep breaths and then spoke out loud to herself. "Okay, left arm, let's have a repeat performance, or we could be here all night."
Chelan knew that she was coming along quickly, and she was pleased. She had always been a superbly coordinated person with plenty of inherent physical flexibility and an abundance of mental discipline. With time and diligence, her previously useless left arm had responded admirably as she forced it into action.
Chelan squinted at the target and picked up a weight with her left hand. She aimed and then pitched the weight with every ounce of strength she had. It slammed into the target's torso; another perfect execution. "Come on. Only nine more," she encouraged herself.
The next five weights hit their mark with reasonable accuracy, but the sharp pain in her shoulder was intensifying. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her next throw while attempting to block out the discomfort. Chelan aimed and released, the weight hitting low on the target. An agonizing spear of pain shot through her upper arm as her muscles violently protested her motion.
"Damn!" she cried, clutching at her arm. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "Looks like that's it, and I sit tomorrow out." She was exhausted, and she sat down for a moment, rubbing her throbbing joint. Sleep would come easily tonight, but first she would have to give her arm a long therapeutic soak.
Gingerly donning her shroud, she headed for Fremma's suite. The lighting was dim, and she proceeded directly into the en suite and began undressing. She looked around the room and smiled. She loved it when she was ready to sleep and her natural body rhythms coincided with the ship's. Tonight was going to be one of those nights, and she would sleep well.
She had noticed early on that the ship's lighting was programmed to simulate Iceanean day and night, and from her reading she knew that the planet's rotational period was approximately thirty-two Earth hours. This had caused her problems in the beginning when she had tried to adjust her twenty-four-hour biorhythms to suit the ship's. But she soon recognized that she was foolish to try to alter the millenniums of evolution that had adapted her people to life on Earth. Once she had come to that realization, life and sleep had come much more easily. The lights in the private quarters were adjustable, and she knew how to override the ship's automated system when necessary.
But nights like tonight were special. Despite the fact that life onboard the battle cruiser carried on as usual regardless of the time of day, she always felt a deep tranquility and inner peace with the natural darkness. She looked forward to her sleep, but first she looked forward to her bath in the twilight of the en suite.
Chelan stepped into the large, sunken tub, the bubbling warmth soothing her aching torso. In a way the pain felt good, an indication that she was working hard and progressing. But she was also well aware that it meant that she was injuring herself and that she should back off.
Chelan tipped her head back and let the water cover her face. Briefly, she transcended into yet another strange and alien world. Coming up for air, she rested her head on the tub's edge and relaxed. She hoped that she would see Dar or Fremma soon. Even though she had enjoyed her independence, she desperately craved some companionship.
She closed her eyes and began planning tomorrow's activities. She knew her muscles needed at least a full day's rest, her left shoulder possibly more, so she would stick to her work on the computer. All the material she was now covering was in Iceanean, and she had become reasonably fluent and comfortable with it. Fremma and Dar no longer spoke to her in English, and as long as the conversation did not get too technical, she had little difficulty conversing.
She was heartened that she was familiar with their language, for it gave her a feeling of acceptance into their culture. Just how long that feeling would last once she reached Iceanea was yet to be seen. Their world and their ways were harsh. There was little room for compromise or compassion in the militaristic culture, and tolerance was about as much as she could expect if she was to be tolerated at all.
Chelan immediately brushed away the thoughts of her uncertain future and worked to get her mind on a different tack. Surprisingly, it wasn't too hard. The soothing warmth of the water and the still night air was calming. But then she shook herself from her revelry, realizing that she would go to sleep in the tub if she didn't get out.
She extruded herself from the warmth and reached for a towel; her muscles protested. She dried herself quickly in the cool air. Then, gathering her gown, she slipped into it absently before realizing that she would only be taking it off again in a few moments.
Chelan folded her uniform neatly and left it on the vanity. She padded out of the en suite and into the dark bedroom. She picked her way to the bed and then stopped abruptly, stifling a gasp as her heart thudded against her ribs. She held her hands to her mouth and remained deathly still, studying the form in her bed. She knew by the extreme contrast between the locks of hair and the white pillows that it was Fremma, and Chelan suddenly questioned her offer to share her bed with the warrior.
She looked down at him. He was on his side, his back to her, a single sheet drawn over him and tucked around his waist
. Chelan chewed at her lip with indecision. At one moment she wanted desperately to cling to him, his warm body comforting her in her loneliness, and in the next moment, she wanted to run, the contact too intimate and too threatening.
Chelan became nervous, afraid to touch the bed. She wasn't at all sure if she wanted to sleep with him, or if indeed she could, but she was sure that she didn't want to disturb him from his badly needed rest. Slowly and rigidly, she turned and started back toward the en suite.
"Where are you going?" asked the deep voice.
Chelan jumped, a shot of adrenaline coursing through her body. She turned around just as he reached to the side of the bed, and the room's lights came up slightly. She watched him roll onto his back, his rich bronze body cradled by the numerous pillows. His glowing eyes settled on her.
"I didn't want to disturb you," she said in an apologetic whisper.
"You didn't answer my question."
Chelan squirmed. "I'm not sure where I was going," she confessed. She took a tentative step toward the bed. "I guess it was foolish of me to think that I could sneak out of here without you hearing me."
"Is that what you intended on doing?"
Chelan turned from him. "I'll let you sleep," she uttered quietly.
"Chelan," he called, halting her retreat. "Don't leave. Please. You didn't disturb me. I just lay down moments before you arrived." He smiled warmly, patting the empty side of the bed with his hand. "Come over here, and sit down. Tell me about your day. I promise not to bite, and I promise not to push. And after we've talked, I will leave if you're not comfortable."
Chelan approached the bed slowly and perched on the edge of it. "I haven't seen much of you lately," she said quietly.
"I know. I'm sorry, but I've had a lot of reorganizing to do with my remaining men. Their shifts and duties have all had to be adjusted."
Chelan had never thought of him having men under him, only as someone who took orders from Korba, and now, she assumed, from Dar. Her interest heightened as she looked into his dreamy eyes. "How many men do you lead?"
"On this ship I command approximately twelve thousand, and about another hundred thousand at home."
Chelan's eyes opened wide with awe. "And what do the men do?"
"They are all in Korba's service, trained specifically for his protection and for the protection of those important to him. There are many layers of security, many applications, so many men are required. In times of battle, some of them are called on to fight, just like everyone else."
"That's a lot of men."
"Korba's an important man."
"And Dar, does he have the same sort of contingent?"
"Yes," he uttered. "Exactly the same."
Chelan's mind began sifting through a myriad of questions. "In what way are they specifically trained?"
Fremma paused, his luminous blue eyes looking beyond her momentarily. "Right from their induction into the Imperial training schools, at a very young age, they are taught that the person they are to protect is the one most important being to them and to the Empire. I guess you could call it a subtle form of brainwashing. They are the cream of the fighting elite. They become loyal in heart and soul to the one they serve, to the exclusion of all others and to themselves."
"And you're the cream of the cream," she smiled.
Fremma grinned at her. "I guess you could put it that way."
Chelan's expression changed from one of fascination to one of confusion. "Since you are one of his most important men, why would he not take you on this mission if it is so critical?"
Fremma looked deep into her eyes. "Because, like I said, we also protect and look after those who are important to him."
Chelan sucked in a breath at the implication of Korba leaving his best man to look after her, and her heart stumbled. But she quickly smothered the thought, casting it into the recesses of her mind. She was quiet for a time as she stared down at the white sheets, conscious of his eyes upon her.
"You should get some sleep, Chelan," he told her quietly.
Chelan looked into his penetrating eyes, and her self-consciousness overtook her. But before she could move or speak, he rolled back onto his side, facing away from her.
Chelan took a couple of nervous breaths. There was no way she could bolster herself enough to remove her gown so she slid into bed quickly, pulling the sheet over her tightly. When he did not stir, Chelan began to relax her rigid muscles, and her anxiety lessened at his aloofness. She felt her fatigue washing over her, but as she turned on her side, a spasm of pain coursed through her left shoulder. Chelan bit her lip and tensed, suppressing a groan of agony. She felt Fremma shift slightly. Suddenly, her eyes shot open. His hand touched her arm.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Chelan rolled off her painful shoulder and onto her back. She pressed her fingers into her muscle. "Ah, no," she moaned, closing her eyes. "I guess I overdid it today."
"Let's have a look," he said, giving her no choice.
He sat up, and Chelan closed her eyes, not sure where the sheet was falling on him, and not sure she wanted to know. He reached across her and took her left arm between his hands, his fingers probing her shoulder and the surrounding muscles.
"You've got tendonitis," he said as he continued to explore. "And your shoulder muscle is inflamed."
Chelan remained still as he raised her arm up slowly. She bit her cheek and buried her face in the pillows as another sharp spasm hit her at his manipulation. He gently released her arm and cleared her hair from her face.
Chelan glanced up at him, noticing that the sheet was placed lightly about his waist as he sat cross-legged next to her. "So will I live?" she asked, half laughing and half feeling like crying.
"I think so," he said as he smiled down at her. "You may also have an impingement issue, but first, let's relieve some of the inflammation."
He urged her onto her stomach and repositioned himself down by her hips. She cringed as he removed the sheet from her and let it fall about her waist. Then she felt him hook the straps of her gown, sliding it down as well. Instinctively, she pressed her arms into her sides to cover herself, but Fremma blocked her attempt, drawing her arms out.
"Oh no, you don't. I can't work on you if you're all stiffened up."
Chelan quailed, feeling horribly exposed. He placed his hands on her arm and began his healing strokes. She closed her eyes to his touch as his hands worked their way up to her shoulder. There, he paid particular attention to her muscles, expertly manipulating her flesh. Then he reached across her and resumed his therapeutic massage on her right arm, paying the same careful attention to her right shoulder.
"No throwing tomorrow."
Chelan nodded.
"Okay, sit up."
Chelan froze, reluctant to move. But she had no option as she felt his hands slip under her shoulders, pulling her effortlessly from the bed and sitting her up in front of him, her back to him. She let her legs dangle off the edge of the bed as she hugged herself, and the cool air caused her skin to prickle.
Fremma moved up to her, kneeling directly behind her. She felt him gather her hair, once again deftly piling it on top of her head and securing it. Then his hands returned to her shoulders. Chelan shivered, feeling the skin of his warm inner thighs brushing the sides of her buttocks. She held very still, letting her head fall forward.
Fremma worked along her shoulders and down her back in silence. She had done much more than a day's worth of damage to herself, and he was determined to maximize the blood flow through her injured muscles.
She took a couple of deep breaths and then began to relax. His experienced touch was literally removing the pain from her. As his hands moved up her back to her slender neck, his fingers sent tendrils of current throughout her body.
"Lean back," came his low command.
Chelan did not resist, afraid her refusal would result in the loss of his healing touch. She reclined back, encountering his chest quickly. She sagged into his warm
th, the contact with his skin diminishing her reserve. She could feel his breath on her shoulder as his fingers began to work along her collarbones to the center of her neck. Chelan kept her eyes closed, her body beginning to obstinately respond to him, her senses heightening. She tilted her head to the side, nestling her cheek against his chest.
Fremma's hands continued to wile her, and soon she found herself electrified by everything about him, the hard planes of his chest, the masculine scent of his potent body, and the rhythm of his strong fingers upon her flesh as they strummed her into submission.
Then ever so slowly, his touch feathered down to her forearms, where he gently coaxed her arms away from their protective embrace. Chelan took a shaky breath at her exposure, her nipples hardening in the cool night air. His hands smoothed back up her arms to her shoulders, his fingers working like magic, his touch spellbinding. Then she felt his pressure easing, his massage becoming a tender caress. Softly and inexorably, he began down her chest toward her breasts.
Chelan was immersed in a mist of dazed indecision overlaid by impassioned arousal. His fingers were eliminating the stiffness from her chest muscles professionally, while at the same time his touch was sexual. She took another deep breath, biting her lip and flinching at the spontaneous trickle of wetness that flowed between her legs.
Fremma continued to caress her muscles. But he was rendered breathless by her beauty, his eyes gorging themselves on her voluptuous breasts, their long-desired exposure to him sending surges of need throughout his loins. Her sweet breath on his skin and her warm, moist scent of involuntary acceptance nearly sent him over the brink of control. But he knew that he could not betray her trust in him, and he reluctantly trailed his hands back to her shoulders. Then, gently, he pushed her from his chest and turned her to him, cradling her in his arms.
Chelan looked up at him, his eyes mesmerizing her. Her body felt weak, and she no longer tried to cover herself. Her hand brushed his smooth cheek and then ran down his long hair. "Thank you," she whispered.