by Shae Mills
Chelan recoiled, but she was afraid to disobey. She stood slowly and looked to Dar for reassurance. He nodded to her, and she walked up to the screen. There, she traced out what she felt was a single plane.
Solis stood abruptly and threw his hands up in the air. "That's a ship?" he mocked as he pointed to the screen. He turned and walked off, shaking his head.
Chelan looked to the floor, her stomach churning. She badly wanted to leave, but she faltered as she went to take a step. She shook with anxiety. She had no business commenting on military decisions, a point Solis no doubt agreed with.
Dar stood and walked up to her, faint amusement on his lips. He touched her shoulder gently. "Chelan," he began, "they can't be ships." He shook his head, trying not to laugh. "They have their wings on backward."
Chelan instantly turned crimson. She became defensive, deeply hurt by Dar's perception of her ignorance in her own field. Dar sobered at the sight of her, realizing too late the pain he had inadvertently inflicted. He reached out for her, but she ducked.
"They look like our X-29s!" she shouted, the venom in her voice directed mostly at Solis's back.
Her uncharacteristic outburst startled both Fremma and Dar. Chelan glared at the blonde Warlord. "And they have their wings on backward," she added acidly.
Chelan rubbed her sore shoulder as she turned from them and attempted to flee the Command Center. But Fremma caught her arm. Chelan wrenched free of him and bolted to the top of the stairs. There she spun around to face them. "Of course you wouldn't look for ships like them, because your Empire has nothing that even approaches that design."
Solis whirled around in a flurry of ominous ebony. "How do you know what the Empire has?" he shouted.
Dar grabbed his arm and stopped his advance to her. "Because I gave her our complete inventory file to look at."
"You what?" cried Solis.
Chelan had had enough. She started quickly for the door.
"No!" shouted Fremma as he ran to her. "Wait, Chelan." He took her by the hand and coaxed her back to the stairs. "Chelan, why do you think they are ships?"
Chelan looked into Fremma's expectant eyes, and she took a deep breath. "Because they look like one of our planes that used to be in development, the X-29. And Dar keeps repeating that the other location is too obvious. That makes it a diversion."
"Chelan," began Dar, "putting a forward sweep on a wing makes a plane virtually unflyable."
Chelan took several deep breaths, attempting to calm herself. "The X-29 relies on a complex system of digital computers, three in all, to assist the pilot. In fact, the three digital computers are backed up by an additional three analog computers. Its designers sacrificed stability to obtain a fast, highly maneuverable, and aerodynamically efficient fighter."
Chelan glanced at the three silent men and decided to continue. "I realize our computer technology is far inferior to your own, but if we can make such a plane fly, then so could your enemies."
Chelan ran her palms down her gown. "The key design feature is what our engineers call 'relaxed static stability.' Because of this, the pilot must depend exclusively on the computers to fly the craft, for even the quickest, most experienced pilot would be too slow to maintain the plane's stability. The X-29's computers monitor and adjust the plane's control surfaces every twenty-five milliseconds to follow the pilot's directions. It's primarily designed to withstand high G-forces at transonic speeds. We use relaxed static stability, fly-by-wire systems in some of our more unstable, highly nimble fighters now, but none of those have forward sweeps."
Chelan was feeling drained. She looked down to the floor, her voice softening. "But it doesn't matter, does it? That's just Earth's inferior technology, and what do I know of galactic warfare? Besides, I'm far from experienced in these matters. I'm sorry I intruded."
With that, Chelan turned quickly and sought her escape. Before any of the men could speak, she dashed from the Command Center. Her abrupt entrance into the corridor startled the guards, and two of them instinctively seized her.
"No! It's okay," shouted Yanis as he ran toward her from down the hall.
Chelan was panicky. Yanis extricated her from his men and ushered her quickly into Fremma's quarters. "What's the matter?" he asked urgently.
Chelan slumped against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She smiled weakly. "Let's just say that it turned out to be a poor time to mount my attack on the Command Center."
Yanis remained silent as Chelan began to recover. She pushed off from the wall and ran a hand through her hair. "It seems Solis doesn't think much of my presence there," she elaborated.
Yanis hesitated. "I doubt he disrespects you, Chelan. But you have to admit that your presence on board this ship is a bit of an oddity, to say the least. Top that off with what he did to you, and now knowing what you mean to Dar and Fremma, it is not at all inconceivable that he is totally baffled as to how to conduct himself in your presence."
Yanis pulled up a chair and sat before her. "He does not know what protocol to follow in your company. And as far as the Command Center is concerned, that is a highly sensitive and restricted area. It's exclusively the domain of the Warlords, and only a very few select, high-ranking officers are usually allowed admittance. Commanders such as Solis are acutely aware of such facts, for rules and regulations are critical to his advancement. So to be in the casual presence of an alien in such surroundings could prove to be a little more than unnerving for him."
Yanis smiled. "Add to that the fact that you are a beautiful woman, and the fact that you share the quarters of the Warlords, especially the private quarters of the greatest Warlord himself... well, that would greatly complicate his perception of the whole situation. And don't forget, he's under a lot of stress at the moment, Chelan. He is plagued by the problems of an important mission, while at the same time he is looking after the command of RIBUS 8. And then to nearly butcher the most important guest of the Empire's Warlords..." Yanis paused and then grinned. "Well, let's just say that I would think that his behavior is probably a little out of character at the moment. Besides, he does not know you as Dar and Fremma do."
Chelan relaxed and smiled down at him. "I'm glad you are here for me. I just hope that I didn't make too much of a fool of myself in there." She laughed lightly. She turned, shaking her head. "Can you believe I actually offered my two-bit interpretation of the most intricate and technologically advanced aerial photographs I've ever seen, attempting to pick out aircraft that don't exist based on my limited knowledge of the whole unearthly situation?"
Chelan turned back to Yanis. She sagged into a chair in an exhausted heap. "The only thing that saved me from withering up and dying of embarrassment was Fremma's incredible patience. Somehow, he always manages to endure my incessant babbling and idiotic meddling."
Yanis laughed quietly, shaking his head at her.
Chelan slouched farther into her chair. "Actually, it's not funny," she added. "It was pathetic." She looked hard at him. "Oh god, Yanis, I'll never be able to face Solis again." Chelan put her fingers to her mouth in embarrassment. "Oh," she groaned. "I think I'll go dig a hole and bury my head in it."
Yanis stood. "Oh, come on now, Chelan. Things aren't that bad, and I think you're being a bit too hard on yourself. Besides, you can't learn to interpret body language if you've got your head in the dirt." He walked over to her and touched her good shoulder. "Come on. I'll teach you some fine muscle control techniques as part of your first lesson."
Chelan suddenly became jubilant. She jumped to her feet and reached for his hands. "Will you also teach me your battle language?" she asked excitedly.
Yanis's face registered surprise. "I don't know, Chelan. That's a very confidential language system." Yanis took a deep breath. Her beautiful eyes were melting his reserve and ultimately, his resistance. He was nearly rendered speechless as his vision flowed over her face, her beauty alight with expectation. "Uh, I'll have to seek permission from Dar first, my Lady," he uttered quietly.
Chelan beamed with delight. She reached up and kissed his lips softly. "Thank you, Yanis," she bubbled. She released his hands and ran her fingers through his long blue-black hair. Her exuberance was barely contained. "Okay, where do we begin?"
Yanis was not sure where to begin anymore as the young alien had totally disarmed him with her touch. He simply stood inert before the exotic and beguiling woman. He now wondered whether spending the required time with her to teach her all she desired was going to be a privileged pleasure or a constant struggle and test of his own self-control. But one thing he was sure of: finding out was going to be interesting.
Yanis and Chelan were both interrupted as the entrance doors parted and a shrouded figure walked in slowly. Chelan froze as a hand signal sent Yanis fleeing from the room. As the doors shut, she felt trapped, and a deep anxiety enveloped her. The hooded man approached her, and her instincts told her it was neither Dar nor Fremma.
The man stopped just short of her. He removed his hood and nodded in her direction. Chelan stood in uneasy silence as Solis spoke softly. "My Lady," he acknowledged. "I feel I must apologize to you yet again." His eyes darted briefly to her multicolored shoulder and neck. "I acted discourteously toward you in the Command Center today, and my behavior was inexcusable." He paused, looking at her intently.
Chelan squirmed, wondering if Dar or Fremma knew he was with her. She quickly decided that under the circumstances, he had probably had to obtain permission from Dar to see her. Chelan took a deep breath. "I understand completely. Everyone is under a lot of pressure right now, and there are a lot of important decisions being made." Chelan hesitated and then flinched as an unexpected picture of Korba pierced through her mind. "And a lot of lives depend on those decisions," she added almost dolefully. Chelan looked deep into Solis's eyes, trying to penetrate his impermeable facade. "My place is not in the Command Center while such decisions are being made. It is I who must apologize to you." She nodded in his direction in a gesture of respect.
Solis gave her a small nod in return. "You are indeed special, my Lady." He wavered, temporarily absorbed by her alien eyes. Then he spun on his heel and left the room.
Chelan collapsed into the nearest chair, a feeling of relief coupled with a sense of foreboding washing over her. Even though she was coping with the physical and emotional roller coaster rides of her predicament, the whole surreal ordeal was beginning to take a further toll on her mental well-being. She wasn't sure why her increasingly numerous bouts with depression were overtaking her, but she wondered if it had to do with her mounting sense of insecurity, which coincided with the closing of the trip. They were nearing Iceanea, and her future there was far from certain, and her life would hang in limbo without Dar or Fremma.
It had only been through some bizarre twist of fate that some unknown Commander named Tarn had allowed her initial survival. It was also abundantly clear that the few people she had been revealed to had been taking orders from Dar or Korba and had been forced to indulge her. And only through repeated exposure to her was she accepted, or possibly simply tolerated. That would not be the case on Iceanea. She would not have the protection of the great men, and she would be susceptible to the Solises of their world.
Chelan slumped down, thinking carefully about Fremma's words, that there could be no other woman in his life and that he wanted to take care of her. Was he being truthful, and how would she know if he wasn't? These men and women were born and bred to obtain what they desired at the expense of all else. Did Fremma actually care, or was she a challenge to him, a temporary diversion on this long trip?
Chelan's worries were growing in leaps and bounds. She sighed loudly, determined to keep her tears back. She resolved that she should simply be thankful that she had achieved her dream to live amongst the stars if only for the briefest of times.
Then she smiled wistfully and hugged herself. Maybe she should make love to Dar and Fremma. She laughed weakly at the thought. After all, what the hell? There was no one from Earth to gauge her decision or actions and no one to criticize or condemn her. If she could tame the beast of her past, then why not live for today, as her outlook for tomorrow was indeed bleak.
Chelan drew her knees up and pressed her forehead into them, and a few rebel tears escaped. "No!" she blurted out loud, her jaw trembling. "No, you can't," she affirmed.
Her thoughts rotated in self-perpetuating turmoil. In a way, her life was complete. She had been places and seen things she had only dreamed of or read about in strange and outrageous fiction. And though she knew she should be content, one deep desire remained unfulfilled. She knew that the only other thing that would make her short but remarkable exodus into space complete was the ultimate binding of her heart and body to the black-haired Warlord who was so far away.
Chelan began to rock her weary body as she thought about the giant photograph in the Command Center, her all-consuming depression deepening. She realized her final dream would never come true. She knew that she should simply feel privileged to have been on the great ship commanded by Korba and to have known intimately the few men who were his closest friends. But that was a small consolation. As early as tomorrow, he was to face his toughest, perhaps his final, challenge. And she would be there, cradled within the cosmos, to witness his death and the Empire's inevitable sorrow at his loss.
In an odd way she felt comforted by the thought of her life coming to a close on Iceanea, for even though she did not believe in a life after death, she somehow felt solace in knowing that she would join him in oblivion. Both would have shared the same final experience of an often unfair and cruel life, the death of their bodies and souls upon an unfriendly and alien world.
Chapter 38
Chelan's depression lifted later that day with the return of Yanis. With him he brought the good news that Dar had given him permission to teach her the silent battle language. Chelan began her lessons in fine muscle control that afternoon, and she attacked her studies with a diligence and determination shown by few of the warriors themselves.
In a few days, Fremma joined Yanis, and both men worked with her often, helping her in the delicate art of reading body motions and in the even finer art of interpreting their military language.
Initially, Chelan found her attempts to master the silent language constantly thwarted by her own body's subtle betrayals. She learned that many of the more precise motions were so minute that even small muscular flinches could be severely misinterpreted. Many embarrassing moments ensued for the young alien, but despite her frustration, both Fremma and Yanis were amazed at her progress. As the days turned into weeks, Fremma soon learned that he could no longer sign to Dar about her without her knowledge and often her understanding.
Chelan was also spending more and more time in the workout area getting her arm back into shape and pursuing general fitness. Here, too, Fremma had become a constant companion, and Chelan enjoyed his company, feeling privileged to have his attention. She saw only momentary glimpses of Dar, for he was still preoccupied with the demands of his command and with the problems associated with the Rigilean mission. And much to Chelan's relief, she had not encountered Solis again, and she surmised that he had returned to RIBUS 8.
Overall, Chelan had recovered well from her unfortunate attack by the young Commander, and she knew that most of her emotional healing was due to all the attention Yanis and Fremma were devoting to her. But as time progressed, she was becoming increasingly suspicious of the reasons behind Fremma's perpetual companionship. Not only had he begun spending his days with her, he had begun returning to his quarters whenever she slept.
Initially, his sustained presence had lifted her spirits to an all-time high, keeping her mind off her impending fate as the trip grew close to an end. But into the second week, Chelan had discovered the reason behind his substantial amount of free time and his conspicuous absence from his command. It had struck a blow to her mental and emotional well-being, but she knew that dwelling on the situation was of no help
to anyone, and especially to herself.
It seemed that Dar had come to a decision regarding the power plant location. He had instantly dispatched a message ordering low-altitude photos of Chelan's suspect area to be taken and delivered directly to Korba for his opinion. The results of the remote sensing scan, however, never made it back to the battleships. Shortly after Dar had dispatched the message, Korba had implemented a complete security blackout, and all communications with the battleships were cut.
Fremma had disclosed the seriousness of the situation, indicating that it meant that ROPE had finally cracked the Empire's security codes. Therefore, no more transmissions to the battleships could be made. So not only were the results of the flybys not known, but neither was the decision made by Korba, or if, for that matter, he had even received the information in the first place.
Fremma explained that the Emperor had ordered the two great ships to stop and await any trickle of news from the battlefront, but so far there was not even a glimmer of information forthcoming, as not a solitary fighter had made it back to them. No one knew if the Empire's forces were succeeding or succumbing, and they would not know for quite some time. Ticees had ordered the ships to remain static for nearly two Iceanean months, allowing ample time for fighters to get through. If no news had been received by then, the worst would be assumed, and the two ships were to continue their journey home. Once there, Dar and Toran would be given an infinite contingency to work with, and RIBUS 6 and 8, along with several other battleships, would be dispatched to obliterate the three planets. From there, the Emperor's plan to eradicate ROPE from the face of the galaxy would be carried out with unrestrained savagery.
The two-month deadline had now been reached, and ships were once again in motion, racing toward Iceanea, the worst having been assumed. After Fremma broke the news to Chelan, he found her more depressed than usual, but not nearly so much as he would have expected. She had explained to him that she'd anticipated the worst long ago and so was prepared for the actual fact. But deep down, Chelan was on the brink of self-destructing. The only thing that prevented her breakdown was Fremma's steadfast presence, her unshakable obsession with her physical workouts, and her new language pursuits.