RIBUS 7

by Shae Mills

  * * *

  Chelan was jolted to wakefulness by something she could not identify. She had slept for an indeterminate length of time, and now she held very still, straining to net the smallest of sounds. She looked about the darkened room, her heart pounding. "Dar?" she whispered.

  Receiving no reply, she slipped into her gown and padded silently to the doors. They parted and allowed her access to the dimly lit workout area. She looked around cautiously, but nothing seemed amiss.

  Solis, on the other hand, had arrived early and had entered the Command Center through the private security doors. He had spent the extra time looking over the dismal situation pertaining to the Rigilean mission. He continually called up data, his ice-blue eyes boring into it, his blood thick with enmity.

  Chelan padded quietly to the Command Center, not wishing to make an appearance if Fremma was present. She approached the entrance, staying in the shadows as she studied the shrouded figure. She searched for clues as to his identity, but a twinge of uncertainty coursed through her. She could see the hood of the shroud drawn over the man's head, and Chelan realized that both Dar and Fremma had always removed theirs when in the Command Center.

  Anxiety was beginning to ooze into her veins. She took a step closer, wondering if she dared to make her presence known. Then she shuddered. Something was not right.

  Solis froze, sensing a lurking presence. His nostrils told him there was fear in the air and that the intruder did not belong.

  Chelan suddenly became aware that her situation was dire and that the man before her was not a friend. She instinctively cowered, beginning her retreat just as Solis began his lightning-swift turn.

  His piercing blue eyes instantaneously registered an alien being, and his left hand released a throwing blade.

  Chelan had already begun to duck before Solis had turned, a move that temporarily saved her life. The powerfully thrown blade slammed into her right shoulder, off from Solis's intended target of her soft, slender neck.

  Chelan staggered and caught her footing, not fully aware of what had happened. Instinctively, her mind told her there was safety to be found with the guards outside. Lurching into motion, she was on the fly toward the main doors.

  But Solis was also in motion, moving to cut her off. He lunged at her, his massive body slamming into her. He allowed his full weight to bear down upon her, crushing her small frame into the floor. Solis did not speak. She was simply an alien who had penetrated the most important and sanctioned part of the ship, and she was to be done away with.

  Chelan felt her ribs crack and her hips bruise, and her chest felt as though it was about to collapse. She could not breathe, and her senses were numbing.

  Solis's mind worked quickly. He decided to spare her momentarily until he could display her to Dar. He would see if the Warlord wanted any information out of her before her well-deserved execution.

  Solis grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrenched her head back sharply. He tore his throwing blade from her flesh and held it to her extended throat. He raised himself off her and dragged her to her feet.

  Chelan thought her neck was going to snap. She could feel a pressure against her throat, but she was too dazed to realize it was a knife and that the blade had already penetrated her tender flesh yet again.

  Solis flung her roughly down the stairs, still holding her by the hair. He hit the intercom button with his hip.

  "Bridge," identified a voice.

  "Where's Dar?" demanded Solis gruffly.

  "Solis? Sir, Commander Dar was not expecting you for—"

  "I don't care when he expected me. Tell him I am here and that I have an unexpected surprise for him." Solis did not wait for a reply, and he hit the switch off.

  Chelan was too stunned to speak or move. She simply began to think of Fremma and of Dar's wish that she forgive the gentle warrior. She tried to take a deep breath, but the pain was agonizing as her lungs attempted to expand against her damaged ribs. She closed her eyes in sorrow, realizing that she had put off the peace offering too late, and her heart ached. Her knees began to weaken, but Solis wrenched her up straight, pressing the knife farther into her delicate neck.

  Suddenly the doors opened, and Fremma stepped in unhurriedly. He adjusted his glove and then looked up. He faltered, his eyes betraying his horror.

  "My dear friend," began Solis sarcastically. "It seems that your security requires some upgrading."

  Fremma slowly raised his hands as he sank to one knee in a sign of submission. He did not want to startle the First Officer. He searched for words, but he was stricken mute. All his senses were accosted by the atrocity before him as he looked at Chelan, his beautiful Chelan. Her right arm was coated by a bright red stain, her precious life fluid dripping from her long fingertips. Streams of blood wound their way down her pretty throat, meandering lazily over her heaving breasts. Her white gown was tarnished with the signature of death, her dim eyes betraying the life-threatening shock that was consuming her.

  Fremma's mind was still reeling with agony as Dar stepped through the doors. The Warlord was halted by the same grisly scene. "Solis," he whispered, his eyes wide with terror. "Let her go," he uttered.

  Solis remained still.

  "Solis," Dar repeated, his voice stern. "Let her go."

  "Let her go?" Solis raged. "She's an alien in the domain of a Warlord."

  "Let her go!" Dar shouted with poorly restrained rage.

  "Have you both gone mad?" Solis retorted defiantly.

  Dar moved slowly but deliberately. He removed his lazgun from under his shroud and pointed it at Solis's head.

  Solis's face dropped in disbelief.

  "Let... her... go," ordered Dar slowly, through clenched teeth.

  Solis was unconvinced. "But she's an alien!"

  "She's my mate!" roared Dar.

  The Warlord was trying very hard not to shoot his Second-in-Command. But Solis's reaction was immediate. He released Chelan, and his blade clattered to the floor.

  Dar moved up beside Fremma, his gun still trained on Solis. "Get Stose here," he ordered under his breath.

  Fremma stood, his legs weak. He edged cautiously to the emergency button.

  Dar took one more step forward. He tightened his grip on the gun and extended his free hand to the pale woman. "Chelan," he whispered softly. "Come to me, pretty lady." He swallowed hard, wondering if indeed she could walk.

  Through the mist of her mind, Chelan began her arduous journey. Her clouded eyes beheld the blonde man and the safety he represented. But she was sluggish, her dwindling lifeblood draining her reserves.

  Dar wanted her out of Solis's range and away from the line of fire that would occur if the man even flinched. He picked his way down the stairs, his steel-blue eyes never leaving the officer.

  After what seemed to be an eternity, Chelan reached for Dar with her left hand, her right arm limp at her blood-soaked side. Dar reached for her fingers. At his touch, her knees buckled, and he lunged forward to break her fall, dropping his lazgun as he moved.

  As Dar laid her upon the floor, Fremma sprinted to them. The warrior knelt by her side and cradled her head in his lap. He stared down into her ashen face, and for the first time in his life he felt his eyes stinging.

  "Where's Stose?" Dar growled angrily under his breath.

  Just then the doors parted, and Stose faltered as he looked down at the blood-stained beauty. He had not seen Chelan since her near-fatal brush with Izan's disease, and he was once again horrified by her present condition.

  Dar looked up at the doctor. "Help her, Stose," he pleaded in a hoarse whisper.

  Solis remained stationary, his mind reeling from Dar's words. His mate? Solis sucked in a large breath. He noted the fear and anguish that contorted his Commander's features. It was only then that the First Officer realized the depth of the importance that the fallen woman held within the Warlord's world.

  Stose knelt by Chelan as he examined her wounds. He looked at Dar. "They are not life
-threatening, my Lord. But the shock she is entering is." And he pointed to her clammy, sheet-white skin.

  "Chelan," Fremma breathed. "Chelan," he called firmly, his commanding voice forcing her to look at him. "Talk to me, Chelan," he ordered quietly. "Don't go to sleep. Stay with me, pretty woman."

  Chelan moistened her parched lips. "Okay," she muttered, wincing at the pain in her throat that speech evoked.

  Dar moved out of Stose's way as the doctor began tending to her wounds. Dar glanced at Solis and then returned his attention back to Stose. "Be careful," he whispered.

  Stose nodded to him. The doctor handed Fremma a dressing and had the warrior press it to her shoulder, stemming the flow of blood. Then Stose began the intricate and delicate job of cleansing and bonding her neck wound. His hands moved with the precision and care he would have afforded the Warlord himself.

  Fremma hunched over her, stroking her hair and face while forcing her to keep her eyes on him. He glanced at the compress; her blood was still seeping. He applied more pressure, and Chelan gasped, drawing her knees up protectively.

  "Hold still, hold still," pleaded Dar as he knelt. He pinned her feet between his knees and then hugged her legs to his chest. He studied her pallid features, his grief nearly overwhelming him.

  All was quiet for a long time. Fremma continued to stroke her, keeping her from drifting further into shock. After what seemed an eternity, Stose finally straightened and took several deep breaths. "Now for the shoulder," he said as he moved to her right side.

  Solis took a cautious step toward them. Fremma caught the officer's movement and glared at him. But Solis continued. When he was near, he sank to the floor and spoke. "I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't know."

  Dar ignored Solis. The Warlord kept his eyes on Chelan as he grappled with his emotions.

  "Sire, nobody told me of her existence," Solis hesitated as he looked down into her face. "She never even cried out. She never uttered a word."

  Dar threw his officer a cutting glance. "I will deal with you later," he rumbled ominously.

  "Sire," Solis began. "I thought she was an intruder. There was never any security clearance ordered for an alien on board this vessel."

  Fremma hugged Chelan's head as she trembled at the conversation.

  "How the hell would an alien woman get in here unless I wanted her here?" Dar shouted. "This is the best-armed and most heavily fortified area in the whole goddamn galaxy except for the private chambers of the Lord God Emperor himself. I ought to slit your throat!"

  "No!" cried Chelan in a raspy voice, renewed fear overlaying her stricken eyes.

  All four men suddenly focused on her. Chelan reached weakly towards Dar's face. "Please... no," she repeated feebly.

  "Chelan, don't speak," ordered Dar softly. He took her hand and kissed her fingers tenderly.

  "No," she pleaded. "If Solis is your Second-in-Command, then I know he is a good man, Dar. If he serves you, my Lord, then he is one of the best." She swallowed slowly and then continued. "He only did what needed to be done... what he was trained to do."

  Solis stared at her. He rose up onto his knees and looked into her face, her alien beauty striking him for the first time.

  Chelan glanced at Solis and then looked back at Dar. "Don't punish him, Dar. It is I who should not have been here, not he."

  Dar hugged her legs and buried his head in her knees. Stose took a deep breath and began to work again, the lines of battle temporarily erased.

  Chelan looked up into Fremma's eyes and smiled weakly at him. She raised her hand and gently brushed his cheek. The warrior smiled back, pressing her fingers to his lips.

  Stose worked slowly and meticulously under the shadow of the strained silence. With time, all the tissue was secured into place and the smallest scar possible made. He leaned back and wiped the sweat from his face.

  Dar looked up at him. "Is she okay?"

  "The neck wound is not too deep, my Lord, all of the damage is contained to superficial soft tissue. The shoulder wound is another matter. A sizeable bone fragment was dislodged, and there is much significant tissue damage. I did a brief scan, and the major ligaments seem intact, but without taking her to sickbay, I cannot know for sure. Two tendons were severed, but I have bonded them. The joint itself is unscathed. Several ribs have been cracked, but none are displaced." Stose hesitated. "But what is deep is the trauma. Care must be taken with her tonight. She is far more susceptible to extreme shock than are we, and her vital signs indicate her dire condition."

  Dar straightened and looked into Fremma's distraught eyes. "Take her to your quarters and look after her well. Call Stose at the slightest sign that things are deteriorating." Dar hesitated. "I will stay here and explain the situation to Solis."

  Fremma nodded and then looked to Stose for instructions. "Keep her warm, Fremma, and keep her conscious. Fluids are important. Get her to drink, or I will establish an IV. Don't let her sleep until she regains her coloring. Watch her pulse. If it gets thready, call. If she starts to slip into unconsciousness, call. I won't bind the shoulder until I know all is well. Watch for infection, as I would prefer not to give her any of our antibiotics unless absolutely necessary. I have given her an injection of very powerful medications for the pain and inflammation. If you need me, I will be only seconds away."

  Fremma nodded and then gently picked Chelan up from the floor. The warrior moved fluidly, his powerful arms cradling her effortlessly.

  Dar stood and kissed her tenderly. "You'll be okay, my Lady," he whispered.

  Chelan nodded almost imperceptibly. Then a small tear formed in her eye. "My dress," she whimpered. "I've ruined my beautiful dress."

  Dar suddenly choked with unexpected emotion. He squeezed her hand tightly. "I'll get you another, pretty lady." he whispered. The ashen beauty immediately relaxed, leaving Dar winded, his heart aching for his demure woman. He waved Fremma away.

  Fremma turned with her and walked from the Command Center to the corridor. Yanis gasped at the crimson-draped body that Fremma harbored. "Sir?" he acknowledged with disbelief. "If you need me..."

  "Thank you, Yanis," Fremma replied as he entered his suite. "We will be okay."

  Fremma went directly to the en suite and sat Chelan gently on the edge of the tub. He whipped off his shroud and drew it tightly around her so that she could not see the blood. Chelan sat benumbed, staring at the floor as Fremma stripped away his uniform. Then he quickly ran a glass of water and set it at the side of the tub. Kneeling in front of her, he lifted her face to his. Carefully, he removed his shroud from her. He watched as her glazed eyes began to drop. But Fremma caught her chin. "Chelan... look at me."

  Chelan responded slowly as if not quite comprehending his words. She looked to him, yet her eyes were barren.

  Fremma watched her closely as he slipped the straps of her gown over her shoulders. He rolled the garment gently down her blood-soaked torso. Standing, he drew her up and hugged her to him. He smoothed the gown over her hips and let it fall heavily to the floor.

  Fremma picked her up and stepped into the warm soaking tub. He crouched down into the healing fluid, the viscous liquid rising just over her breasts. Tucking her in his lap, he hugged her head into his chest. He dipped his finger in the glass of cool water and traced the moisture over her lips until she responded, taking in the small droplets. Then he raised the glass to her, and she took one small sip. He smiled and put the glass down.

  Then he tilted her face to his and began trickling the healing spa solution over her, soaking away the stains. He lovingly bathed her hair and body, eroding away the life fluid that tainted the purity of her satin skin. Whenever her eyes closed, he took her lips tenderly, brushing them ever so softly with his, keeping her rooted in the present.

  Fremma held her gently, stroking her face for nearly an hour until he noticed a tinge of pink returning to her cheeks. Then he kissed her head and looked into her beautiful eyes. "Chelan, you need to drink more... okay?"

  She nodd
ed, and he helped her with the water. As more time passed, her eyes once again began to show a spark of life. "I'm going to take you out now," he whispered. He kissed her forehead sweetly, supporting her as he stood. Stepping from the liquid, he sat her on the opposite side of the tub, away from the blood-soaked gown.

  Chelan immediately began to shiver, and she clenched her hands in her lap. Fremma moved quickly, grabbing a couple of towels. He draped the first one over her uninjured shoulder and drew it about her body. With the second, he knelt before her and dried her legs vigorously.

  Chelan took a couple of deep breaths as she watched him, her murky mind beginning to clear. Fremma then stood. He picked her up ever so gently and then whisked her off to the bed. He removed her wet towel, tenderly laying her down and covering her with the warm sheet and quilt. Chelan rolled woefully slowly onto her left side and drew her knees up, desperately seeking warmth.

  Fremma watched her as he dried himself. Then with great care, he slid in under the blankets beside her, coiling around her and surrounding her protectively with his body. His arm slipped over her thin waist, his fingers finding her slender wrist. He felt for her pulse, the rhythmic beat quelling the flow of fear that coursed through him.

  Chelan lay motionless and closed her eyes. The warrior's body cocooned her in an envelope of security and warmth. She still felt insensate from her brutal encounter with Solis, but slowly, her mind set to work sifting through the attack, her tumultuous emotions raw.

  Fremma remained silent, the whole drama playing heavily on his own mind. Never before had he been as shocked by the sight of blood as he had been tonight. Decades of training had taught him to efficiently and unemotionally draw the life fluid. But the sight of Chelan's wounds had caused his own heart and soul to bleed as surely as if he had taken the blade himself.

  They lay still for a long time, both dealing with a cascade of brutal images and flayed emotions. Then suddenly, Fremma released her, rolling out from under the blankets and crouching on the floor.

  Chelan was momentarily startled. She rolled to her back and looked at him, her eyes wide with alarm.