TALON (RIBUS 7 Book 4)

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TALON (RIBUS 7 Book 4) Page 8

by Shae Mills


  Talon looked away. Chelan was instantly ill. If she had eaten, she would have been sick. Talon held her by the shoulders as she convulsed. Then she glanced up just as Lakit produced a third syringe. “Damn you…” she moaned.

  Lakit began for her. She pressed back against Talon. “No…” she sobbed.

  “You need to sleep,” the doctor stated.

  Chelan dug her heels in and wrenched up against Talon for the last time, but it was futile. The needle plunged deep into her slender arm, and suddenly, her nightmare world turned black.

  Chapter 6

  Korba ran down the corridor and through the Command Center doors. Instantly, he began entering codes. Entire panoramas of screens came to life, battle updates scrolling alongside damage reports and casualty lists.

  Orders were issued, and soon the Command Center was flooded by officers. Korba glanced back at them. “Rannic. The last assault.”

  “Yes, my Lord. All went as planned from our end, but Talon dispatched only a fraction of the fighters we had anticipated he would in response to our attack.”

  Korba finished at the consoles and then turned and faced his men. “He refuses to engage anymore. He keeps his fighters within the battleship until the time suits him.”

  Rannic nodded. “He has experienced the brute force we can levy against him with our air assaults, and he now knows that his shielding holds. He has no need to send more men to their deaths against us. The shielding is now our biggest hurdle. But we have never experienced anything like it before.”

  Korba nodded. “Konnor.”

  “My Lord. The Telesians are scrambling, as are we. They admit that it looks like their technology, but they have been unable thus far to ferret out any factions within their ranks that may be misaligned.”

  Korba’s eyes flared. “Send an additional contingency of our best investigators to them and get this solved. In the meantime, we need to find a chink in that ship’s armor, no matter how small.”

  “My Lord,” said Aden. “We can be assured that the Lady Chelan is deep within the cruiser, well shielded. If we site on the aft and bring full armaments to bear, we may be able to penetrate the ship.”

  Korba shook his head. “We have been unable to locate the ship’s main drive systems. If we hit her hard enough to breach her, we could pierce an engine room and set off a nuclear incident. Chain reactions could go internal.”

  Aden nodded. “Yes, Sire. But I am sure that they have a failsafe for just such an event. If they have the technology to keep the entire battleship so effectively shielded, surely, they could protect the ship internally from a reactor meltdown.”

  Korba almost growled. “You assume they expect to be breached at some point without dire consequences. The reason they have my mate on board is so that such an action is never contemplated, especially when confronting two of our battleships at once. If they were so immune to our Imperial forces, they would have had no need for Chelan.”

  “They could still be using her simply as a bargaining tool, my Lord,” came a voice from the back.

  Korba’s rage festered. “Have you heard of any bargaining thus far? They came out of nowhere, guns firing across the galaxy. Our ships are being obliterated on every front. Their goal is the Empire, and right now, they do not have to bargain. They are on top!”

  The men shuffled uneasily. Aden went to speak but wisely kept quiet.

  Rannic, however, dared. “Sire. Possibly a single man landed on her decks is all we need. One person could get inside, and that one person could be enough to cripple the ship. That warrior could be all we need to rescue our lady.”

  Korba stepped up to his officer and lowered his voice. “How big is that battleship?”

  Rannic exhaled. “Colossal, my Lord.”

  Korba nodded. “We have days at most. Finding my Lady could take years!” he boomed.

  Konnor spoke. “Our only hope is to draw out his fighters and pick them off until he is seriously weakened. We have already shown our superiority in that domain.”

  Rannic looked at his fellow officer. “Talon has already figured that out. That is why he has scaled back his sorties. He has already crippled us. He is merely biding his time, hoping that at some point we will move back within range, so he can blow us to pieces. The only reason we are still here is that we are staying out of his reach while we figure this out.”

  Korba put his hands on his hips and looked up at the ceiling as his officers continued to brainstorm. The situation was completely untenable. As long as Chelan was on board Talon’s ship, he was rendered impotent. In a situation with both RIBUS 8 and 10 within range—weapons brought to bear in conjunction with a full-out fighter assault—he would have the upper hand. Bombarding the devil ship would force Talon to jettison his fighters en masse, compromising both his men and his shielding. But as it was, anything he launched at Talon put Chelan in jeopardy.

  He looked down. The discussion among his men was still heated, but Korba’s mind was elsewhere. Now, he had to deal with the morality of the situation, weigh the lives of his people, the many, against the life of one, his mate. Nothing in all his decades at the top had ever caused such a profound depth of despair within his soul. His men were right—until they learned how to beach these ships, they were all doomed. And as long as he put the life of his lady above all, he could never learn the secret to that riddle and aid the Empire in its bid to rid the galaxy of this new parasite.

  Suddenly, all eyes snapped around as the Command Center doors opened, and a solitary warrior stepped through. Instantly, the officers bowed with reverence.

  Dar removed his flight helmet and threw back his blonde mane. Slowly, he nodded to the men; then his solemn eyes met Korba’s.

  The Emperor took a deep breath and addressed his officers in a quiet voice: “Leave us, and await my orders.”

  The sea of men immediately washed out of the Command Center, and the doors sealed.

  The two Warlords stared at one another. Finally, Dar spoke. “This is beyond belief.”

  Korba looked away, his jaw working. “This is what I have always feared most. This is why I wanted her off Iceanea.”

  Dar shook his head. “They tracked her to Calley. There has to be an infiltrator. There were thousands of more logical places to have sequestered her. For someone to even dream that she was on Calley…” He exhaled sharply.

  Korba turned and sat down in the main command chair. Then he motioned to Dar to sit by him. Dar descended the stairs and took a seat.

  Korba rubbed at his weary eyes. “Not even all the forces Fremma left in place managed to protect her. They should have been able to at least see them coming, but Talon made it to the planet completely undetected, like some cloaked demon.” Korba hesitated. “I don’t understand where this technology is coming from, and neither do the Telesians.”

  Dar looked down, the mention of Fremma’s men dealing him a crippling blow. So many emotions assailed him at once that he was winded. Then he felt Korba’s eyes upon him, and he looked up, meeting the Emperor’s grievous stare head on. “I have a plan, Sire,” he said to Korba. “It is extreme even by our standards, but as far as I can tell, it is the only thing that may work.”

  Korba’s eyes narrowed, noticing Dar’s poorly concealed tremors. The Emperor braced himself.

  Dar glanced away as he collected himself. Never in his life had he felt so torn and bloodied. Never in his life had he felt such profound desperation, sorrow, and guilt. Finally, he looked back at the most revered Warlord the galaxy had ever known, and then stilled his own thudding heart. “I have…”

  Korba felt his very life force drain from his soul. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head hung.

  Dar ran a hand through his hair and felt the back of his eyes prick. Images of Chelan pregnant with his child, both held captive upon the enemy ship, ripped through his soul. And all the men he had left behind—all the men he had ordered to take out Fremma’s—had not been enough to prevent her abduction. “Forgive me, my
friend,” he said. “I have compromised us all in ways you could never hope to fathom.”

  Korba stared at the floor and ground his jaw. “I already forgive you,” his voice a low whisper.

  Dar stared at him. “My Lord—”

  Korba held up his hand, halting Dar’s words. He took several deep breaths, his guts turning like never before. Then he raised his head and looked deep into Dar’s eyes. “I understand. And you will tell me everything before you leave these decks today. But first, you will rise to my side, here, now, and we will work together on your plan, as brothers. You will stand by me and issue your orders to RIBUS 8 as I issue them to RIBUS 10. Together, somehow, we will save Chelan, no matter the cost. You will do this for her, for me, and for yourself. Then, and only then, will we all be at peace, knowing that we had tried all, did all, and sacrificed all.”

  Dar nodded slowly and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You will save her, my Lord.” His jaw worked as he struggled with his emotions. “You simply have to save her.”

  Korba stood slowly and extended his arm to his best friend. Dar rose torpidly and grasped Korba’s arm. Then he bowed his head.

  Korba felt weak. He reached with his free hand and placed it on Dar’s head. “We will save her,” he whispered. “We… will save her.”

  Chapter 7

  Chelan awoke to a dim light. She blinked several times to clear her cloudy vision. Then morbid reality set in as she realized that she was once again back in her dingy little room. She rolled away from the wall and onto her back. Slowly, she rubbed her hands over her soft abdomen, and she felt fresh tears threaten. She no longer recognized her body, the life within her stolen. Her head lolled to the side, and she suppressed a cry of fright.

  “Good day, little one,” came Talon’s deep voice.

  Chelan wet her dry throat. “Where is my baby?” she pleaded.

  Talon remained quiet.

  Chelan tried to sit up, but her head throbbed. She took several deep breaths and raised her hand up, noticing for the first time the thin tube that entered her arm. She looked at him anxiously. “What is this?”

  Talon settled further into his chair. “Liquid nutrients, fluids, electrolytes, painkillers, hormones, and more.”

  “Hormones?”

  He nodded. “To contract your uterus and dry your milk.”

  Chelan struggled to rise. “No!” she cried. “I need to nurse my son.” And she grabbed at the IV.

  Talon lurched forward and subdued her. “Don’t do that! You will only damage yourself.”

  Chelan swung at him. “Get away from me!” she yelled. “I want my baby!”

  Talon knelt on the bed and pinned her. “It is too late,” he stated coolly. “You have been out for three Iceanean days. The drugs have already worked their magic.”

  Chelan instantly went limp. She was stunned. Slowly, she moved her trembling hands under the blankets and over her breasts. Then she shut her eyes, the grim reality too much to bear.

  Talon reached across the pale woman, carefully removing the tube she had tried to wrench out. Then he looked down at her as he stood up. “Now that the IV is gone, you should begin eating and drinking right away. I will send Lakit to you immediately.” And he left her.

  Chelan stared at the ceiling, her thoughts mired in pain, her body numb. Then she felt a presence and looked up into Lakit’s eyes. “What do you want?” she asked coldly.

  “To help you.”

  “Then bring me my son.”

  Lakit sat down on the bed. “I cannot.”

  Chelan turned away. “Why does he seek to strip me of all I love? First Fremma, now my baby.”

  “You will have to ask him. I only follow orders.”

  Chelan glanced at him. “Why can’t I nurse him?”

  Lakit faltered. “Talon did not want you to see him.”

  Chelan felt as if she had been punched. Then she reached out and clutched at Lakit’s hand in desperation. “Tell me—is he well?”

  The doctor looked away.

  Chelan felt her heart stop. Then from the murky depths of her memory, she brought up the image of Ven injecting her child, and her breath caught. “Oh god,” she gasped. “My baby…”

  “You must eat.”

  Chelan shook her head slowly. “What did you do to my baby?” she asked almost catatonically.

  Lakit hesitated. “Your baby is gone.”

  Chelan was paralyzed. “Gone?”

  Lakit looked away again.

  Chelan’s world was turning upside down again. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Please, Chelan. It is best you do not ask questions. You bore the child of a rival Warlord. He had no place in this Empire.”

  Chelan let go of Lakit’s hand and rolled away from him, her mind collapsing in on itself. “Leave me,” she whispered.

  “You must drink.”

  “No.”

  He shook his head. “You must, Chelan. If you don’t, Talon will bind you and force you.”

  Chelan closed her eyes against him. “Go. I need to rest.”

  Lakit frowned. “I will leave you be, but first, there is one more thing I must administer.”

  Chelan looked up at him as he produced a syringe. She didn’t even flinch. She didn’t care what it was. She actually hoped it would kill her.

  Lakit injected her and watched as the medication took effect. She had already received much of the drug in her IV. This was the last dose. When the drug had worked its magic, her life would be all the better for it. He left.

  *****

  Days passed, and Chelan remained in mourning. Only Lakit attended her. Though he brought her meals, she would not eat. Only after much prodding could he get her to drink, and then it was only water.

  Finally, on the tenth day after her delivery, Chelan roused herself from her stupor. When Lakit entered, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over and trembling from lack of food. He approached her cautiously, but she did not look at him. He stood still.

  Chelan rocked herself for a time and then glanced down at the T-shirt that covered her. “I need a bath and a comb for my hair,” she uttered. “And then I want to work out.”

  “You are too weak.”

  She glared up at him. He shrugged. Then he set her tray down and disappeared. Moments later, he returned. “Talon has given you permission to train. You may come with me.”

  Chelan stood up shakily. “Why do you attend me? Where is he?”

  “He is preoccupied with his command.”

  “He engages the Empire, doesn’t he?”

  Lakit hesitated. “Yes, he does.”

  “How is he doing?” she asked with trepidation.

  The man shifted uneasily. “I am not sure. It is early yet.”

  Chelan took a moment to straighten herself. “Let’s go,” she said faintly.

  Lakit took her to the training area, where she attacked the lighter weights with a vengeance. But he watched her with genuine concern. She was frail, her muscles wasted, yet he feared interfering. It was as though she was trying to kill herself with exertion, but he knew she would succumb to fatigue first. It was her way of dealing with her morbid loss, and he would allow her that privilege.

  It did not take long before she slumped to the floor. But when he tried to help her up, she pushed him away. After struggling to her feet on her own, she squared her shoulders and walked to the shower. There she stripped off her shirt and collapsed against the wall. She hit the spray button and allowed the frigid water to further numb her senses. Then, with all the effort she could barely muster, she cleaned herself and her shirt.

  When she was finished, she hung the shirt to dry and accepted the towel Lakit handed her. She looked up at him almost blankly as she dried herself. “I need some clothes.”

  Lakit nodded. “I will see what I can do.”

  Chelan wrapped herself in the large towel and headed to her room. There she dried her hair and crawled under the blankets for warmth.

  Lakit s
at next to her and looked deep into her troubled eyes. He seemed to hesitate and then chose to speak. “For what it is worth, I did not condone Talon’s… removal… of your child. I saw no reason for such action.”

  Chelan smirked. “He seeks to crush me any way he can.”

  “He is a powerful man. He could do that in so many ways without robbing you of your baby.”

  “A man can do much to dominate, humiliate, or harm a woman. But his most potent punishment, his most effective torture or demoralization, comes through the abuse of her children. Talon obviously knows that. He destroys me most efficaciously by murdering Dar’s baby.”

  Lakit was unsure what to say next. He stood slowly and spoke softly. “I will go get you a comb.”

  Chelan lay inert, her heart cold. She had no more thoughts. She merely existed.

  Within moments, Lakit returned and handed her a comb. She sat up and began robotically attending to her task. But even the knots thwarted her efforts, and eventually, Lakit came to her rescue. She turned her back to him, allowing him to work, the job taking the better part of an hour.

  “It is beautiful,” he whispered.

  Chelan hugged her knees. “So is yours.”

  Lakit continued to run his fingers through her shimmering tresses. “You should take it easy with the weights.”

  “I am okay.”

  “No, you need more nourishment, and you must start eating now.”

  Chelan laid her head on her knees, drowsy under his gentle touch. “I will,” she murmured.

  *****

  More days passed. Chelan now spent most of her time working out. Lakit had supplied her with a uniform, and finally, she was warm.

  Lakit observed her this day as she finished the weights and then entered the shower. For the first time since her abduction, he seemed to truly notice her. All signs of her pregnancy had vanished, and the voluptuous goddess before him rendered him motionless. She was tall and slender, yet her full breasts and curving hips rendered her more of a woman than he had ever seen, and her long hair added an alluring sexuality that was hard to ignore.

 

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