TICEES

by Mills, Shae

  They handed him a portable antigravity mechanism and a rope. But Shan was beyond reason. He knew it would take too long to descend with the antigravity lift, and before Korba could react, he had secured the rope’s end around an outcrop of rock and was cascading recklessly down the rock wall.

  “Get Stose in here!” shouted Korba, and he lunged over the edge of the cliff in hot pursuit of Shan.

  Shan hit the floor running and flew to Chelan’s side. Falling to his knees before her, he looked at her death-white skin as he reached for her cool cheek.

  Korba ran up beside him just as Shan pulled back the fur. Shan lurched backward as though shot through the chest, his face draining of all color.

  Korba looked down, and his heart stopped. His body was rendered totally unresponsive, and he was mute. Finally, he shook himself from his stupor and knelt down by her, afraid to touch her. Then he looked at Shan, his voice cracking. “She didn’t tell you?”

  But Shan could not speak.

  Korba swallowed hard and reached for her, rolling her to her back. He listened to her chest, but her heart was weak and her respiration even weaker.

  Just then Stose rushed up. “Oh, my Lady,” he breathed, and he immediately set to work. “Here!” he yelled as he forcibly shoved Korba down by her side. “Push down on her abdomen here, and keep pushing hard and rhythmically. We’ve got to get her uterus to contract.”

  Korba obeyed immediately, and he pressed hard into Chelan’s soft and distended flesh. He felt an unfamiliar thickening deep inside her, and he eased off.

  “Press!” shouted Stose at the stunned Warlord. “Press hard! Don’t worry about bruising her. If we don’t stop the bleeding now, she dies!”

  Korba responded, almost feeling disembodied.

  Stose cursed as he began pumping her full of fluids and nutrients. The last thing he would have thought to bring was a hormonal muscle contractor, so he would have to rely on artificial blood products until her uterus took care of itself, if it did. When Stose had gotten all the IVs in place he relieved Korba from the uterine massages.

  Korba sat back and took in several deep breaths, his eyes still wide with shock. Then he looked over at Shan, the man’s gaze riveted to the small bundle still clutched in Chelan’s arm. Korba did not know what to say or do to help the young warrior, and his heart grieved for him.

  Finally, Shan moved to his knees, his face contorted. “But how?” he whispered, his voice strained. “She had just bled.”

  Korba hung his head.

  Shan reached for his tiny infant and drew him to his chest. Instinctively he began to rock his son as he looked at Korba. “Why didn’t she tell me?” Shan’s voice cracked, and he looked down at his dead baby. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he whispered in desperation. He looked over at Korba. “I would never have left her,” he cried softly. “Never.”

  Korba winced. “That is why she didn’t tell you, my friend.”

  Shan instantly crumbled, hugging the baby tight. “He was my son!” he wailed. “I could have helped her.” Shan rocked frantically. “She did this to spare me and my career. Now I have lost all!”

  Stose looked up helplessly as Shan hunched over the baby and convulsed.

  Korba felt his own heart breaking, not just for Shan, but for Chelan’s loss also. Then he looked down into her peaceful face. “Damn you, Chelan,” he whispered as he tenderly touched her cheek. “Why do you always think of others before yourself, pretty woman?”

  Korba looked over at Shan. He watched as the shaking man slowly unwrapped his infant son, his gaze taking in the perfectly formed body. Korba squeezed his eyes tight.

  Shan picked up each tiny hand and held them tenderly. Then he touched the small, cool body and ran his fingers through the fine black hair. Carefully and reverently, he rewrapped the baby and hugged him close. He looked over at Korba through clouded eyes as he continued to rock. “May I be excused, my Lord?” he asked in a shallow whisper. “I’d like to be alone with my son.”

  Korba felt everything in his body twist. “Don’t do this, Shan, please.”

  Shan shook his head vigorously. “It is best for all, my Lord. Please don’t deny me this.”

  Korba felt like he was being kicked in the stomach. “Think about Chelan, my friend. She would want you alive and well. She would not want this.”

  Shan wobbled unsteadily. “I am thinking of her, my Lord. No one knows what emotions the future may bring for any of us. I cannot predict my feelings pertaining to her. None of us can. I am not willing to live with that uncertainty and the pain I could one day bring to her, or to you, my Lord.” Shan hesitated and looked deep into Korba’s stricken eyes. “Please, Sire, grant me this.”

  Korba felt his throat constrict, his emotions in so much turmoil he felt winded. “You may go,” he finally uttered weakly, and he watched as Shan smiled.

  “Thank you, my Lord.” Shan paused and looked down at Chelan. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then he looked back to Korba. “Take care of her for me, Sire.”

  Korba could no longer speak. He simply nodded.

  Shan smiled again and then rose to his feet. He straightened himself and walked through the group of stunned warriors, heading for the lower entrance.

  Korba watched him disappear, and then he looked up at the ceiling, taking in a deep and painful breath. He would not interfere with a man’s right to die as he chose, and he let his head fall forward.

  Korba finally looked up into Stose’s troubled eyes. The Warlord was scared to death to ask, but he had no choice. “Will she survive?”

  Stose nodded almost imperceptibly. “She will survive, my Lord, but as to whether she will be okay, I would never dare to answer that.”

  Korba looked down at the ashen beauty. He reached out and stroked her tangled hair. “She will be okay,” he whispered, and he broke down and wept openly in front of all his men.

  *****

  Shan staggered through the tunnels and through the cavern where he had shared his love with Chelan. He paused briefly at the cavern entrance, clutching his son tightly as he allowed his memories to flood forward. Then he turned and began his journey to the surface, his emotions spent and his thoughts anesthetized. The guards parted for him at the opening, and he straightened up and took in a long, deep breath of the glacially crisp air.

  Slowly, he began walking and continued to walk for a long time. His exposed face burned, and he saw the coming front. He had met her by storm, and he would perish by storm. It was as it should be.

  Eventually he stopped and looked down at his tiny son, the child born of Chelan’s love. Shan fell to his knees and laid the baby on the frozen ground. Then, with one fluid motion he removed his shroud and spread it out upon the snow. The wind bit fiercely into him through his uniform, but he did not notice.

  He lay down on the shroud and opened his uniform jacket, exposing his bare chest. He reached for his son and pressed the baby to his heart, drawing the shroud over them. Shan closed his eyes as his last tear escaped and froze on his cheek. He said good-bye to Chelan and to his son, and at long last he was at peace, the planet’s last dance enacted upon his soul.

  *****

  Korba’s men warned him of the storm, and Chelan was quickly bundled up and moved to the surface. Korba placed her in his fighter as Stose made sure she was stabilized for the journey. Then Korba ordered Stose and two of his wingmen to follow him up to RIBUS 7.

  Korba climbed into the cockpit, and the black ship began to move silently over the barren wasteland, the wind-blown snow already beginning to drift. Korba looked down at a frosty snow-covered mound, a flutter of black shroud exposed at one end, and closed his eyes momentarily. He knew that Shan was already dead, and that he had died as he had chosen, unable to live a life without Chelan, and especially a life without his son.

  Korba mourned for the man, knowing in his heart that he may have done the same thing. There could be no greater sorrow in life than to lose all with no hope of recovery. Shan had g
iven up his career long ago, and with the loss of Chelan and the death of his son, his life was going to be a misery he chose not to endure.

  Korba signaled Dar that he was about to leave the planet. He engaged the thrusters, punching his fighter through the atmosphere toward Chelan’s one true home, RIBUS 7.

  Chapter 30

  The four ships landed silently on RIBUS 7 in the Commander’s personal hangar. Korba lifted Chelan down carefully, laying her on the floor while Stose checked her for any adverse effects from the trip.

  The doctor nodded that she was okay, and Korba lifted her gently and walked toward his quarters. Korba had no fear of any leakage of information that Chelan was alive from any of the men who had attended him. They were all his personal best, and they knew well of the Lady Chelan, and in turn, they knew all too well the effects her disappearance had had on their Commander.

  Korba entered through the security doors at the far end of his workout area and strode quickly along the length of the pool and up into his chambers. The Command Center was empty, and Korba knew that Fremma was on the Bridge.

  He laid the pale and unresponsive beauty on his bed as Stose began preparing himself. Korba moved quickly to bring blankets and sheets while Stose laid out the instruments that he would use to repair the damage caused by the birth.

  Korba stopped momentarily and looked down into her peaceful face. Then he nodded to Stose to begin. Korba turned and hurried down into the Command Center. With urgency, he began entering the codes that would link him directly to the Imperial Command Center and, hopefully, Dar. Korba waited a few moments for access and then indicated that he and the landing party were aboard RIBUS 7.

  The Warlord sat down, anxiously awaiting a response. Then the code came back: ROUTINE PATROL TO DEAD ZONE COMPLETE. NOTHING TO REPORT. Korba slumped forward in relief. Dar had successfully held off the men in the control center that monitored the flybys, and the scanners had not picked up the four ships leaving Iceanea’s atmosphere or the four replacements flying in.

  Korba dared not relay any more information, and he would wait for Dar to get hold of him when all was clear. He stood and removed his shroud and weapons, then returned to his chambers. He pulled up a chair by the bedside and sat down quietly.

  He looked down at Chelan, his mind and body still in shock. He could not fully comprehend his reunion with her, and his stomach still turned as visions of her lying bleeding in the cavern assaulted his senses. He needed time to adjust and to sort through his emotions.

  He drew a deep breath as his eyes moved over her now unfamiliar body, distended by pregnancy and swollen with milk that would never be nursed. He watched Stose work over her, and then he looked back up into the beautiful face he knew so intimately. He thought about her pregnancy and how it had happened, recalling Shan’s dismay.

  Eventually, the Warlord smiled to himself. He allowed a fleeting thought to cross his mind. He wondered if she had planned it as a way to ease her inevitable loneliness. But Korba knew his Lady too well. She had done it again. He knew that she had not told Shan of her Earthly cycles, and she had simply been caught.

  Korba was interrupted from his thoughts as Stose straightened and turned to him.

  “My Lord,” he whispered.

  Korba looked up at him and nodded.

  “All is well and she will heal fine, though there will be discomfort. I have given her some hormones to speed her recovery and to dry her milk. I’ve also given her a sedative. Even though she is out now, it probably wouldn’t be long before she came around, so I gave her the drug because I don’t want her alert and thrashing around until she has had time to rest and stabilize.”

  Korba nodded. “How long?” he asked quietly.

  Stose paused. “She’ll probably start drifting into coherency sometime tomorrow afternoon, Sire. I could bring her around sooner if—”

  Korba held up his hand halting Stose. “No, she needs the rest, and I need the time to think.”

  Stose nodded at him but became very still, the feral aura that suddenly surrounded the Warlord unsettling him.

  Korba looked at Stose’s blood-soaked hands, and his eyes narrowed. “Ticees did this to her,” he hissed venomously.

  Stose’s breath caught. He was completely thrown by Korba’s comment, but he knew that look on his Commander’s features. It was not wise to ask any questions. Stose could tell that the Warlord was exercising tremendous control over his emotions, and Stose did not want to be around when the lid blew off.

  Stose watched Korba’s icy gaze return to Chelan, and the temperature in the chambers seemed to drop. He felt a shiver go through him, and he turned away quickly to clean his hands. He removed all the soiled materials from the bed and covered Chelan with stacks of fresh blankets. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to Korba, daring to speak. “Will you be staying with her, my Lord?”

  Korba nodded, his eyes never leaving her face.

  Stose hesitated. He was becoming almost more concerned for Korba’s well-being than for Chelan’s. He knew the little alien would heal physically, but Korba’s state of mind was another matter. “Would you prefer that I remained here also, my Lord?” he asked cautiously.

  “No,” Korba whispered.

  Stose paused, then turned and started down the stairway toward the Command Center.

  Korba finally tore his eyes from Chelan and looked at Stose’s back. “Thank you, my friend,” he called after him.

  Stose turned to him and smiled. “It is the least I can do, Sire. I will return shortly to check on her.”

  Korba nodded and looked back at Chelan. He sat motionless as he soaked in her beautifully serene features. He knew that it would be a long time before her abundant and deep emotional wounds began to heal, and he wondered just what he could do to could help her. He shuddered to think of telling her about Shan’s death, but Korba understood that she would want to know. He was also well aware that Shan could have been instrumental in her recovery, and Korba wished with all his heart that the warrior had seen through his own pain. But forcing the man to endure the emotional fallout emanating from his colossal losses, both realized and those still to come, was cruel. Chelan would recover; Shan never had.

  Korba heard motion in the Command Center, and he knew that Fremma had returned. Standing slowly, he started out of his chambers and stopped at the entrance to the Center. He watched Fremma’s back as the officer worked through a systems check.

  Suddenly, Fremma reeled, surprise registering on his face at Korba’s presence. “My Lord,” he gasped. “No one informed me of your arrival.”

  Korba smiled weakly. “Relax, my good man. No one knew of it.”

  Fremma watched him carefully as the Warlord descended the steps slowly. “I thought you weren’t due on board until tomorrow because of the Vixen mission.”

  Korba sat down heavily. “Dar has taken that over,” he commented almost absently.

  Fremma flinched. Korba was acting strangely to say the least, distant and uncharacteristically detached. Fremma did not know where to begin or if it was simply wise to keep his mouth shut. Finally, he risked speaking. “Did you talk with Shan, my Lord?” and Fremma saw Korba stop breathing. The warrior froze.

  “Shan is dead.”

  Fremma was staggered. “Dead!” he exclaimed. “How?”

  Korba looked up at him. “It’s a long and complicated story,” he uttered quietly.

  Fremma glanced at the floor as his mind searched for possible answers, but he was dumbstruck. Fremma started to speak, but Korba shook his head at him.

  “I will explain as soon as Dar arrives.”

  Fremma sat down stiffly. He knew that a bomb was about to drop, and it would be no small explosion.

  Just then the Command Center doors opened, and Dar strode in, tossing his flight helmet carelessly aside. Korba stood. “Damn it, Korba. What the hell is going on? I just met Stose in the hall and he said that—” Dar stopped as Korba raised his hand, halting his questions.

  Fre
mma was suddenly on his feet. “What’s going on around here?” he asked warily as his eyes darted between the two Warlords. “What does Stose have to do with anything?”

  Dar was wallowing in confusion, but Korba ignored him and turned to Fremma. His voice was soft and low. “We have a guest on board, my friend, a very dear … and a very fragile guest.”

  Dar felt a tide of dread surge throughout his body, and his face fell.

  Fremma was beside himself as he caught Dar’s reaction. “Who?” he demanded.

  Korba took him by the shoulders and pressed him into his chair. “Chelan,” he whispered.

  Fremma’s face drained of all color. He was stunned beyond comprehension. “Chelan?” he repeated, his voice almost inaudible.

  Korba nodded.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  Korba moved back and sat down in his chair. “She’s in my chambers, but she is unconscious and will remain that way until tomorrow.”

  Dar almost stumbled down the stairs, and he sat in front of Korba. “What happened?” he asked, his distress evident.

  “She will be okay,” Korba assured. “But she will need time, a long time to heal emotionally.”

  Dar and Fremma both remained very still.

  Korba looked at Fremma. “Chelan has been in the Dead Zone these past two years, and it was she who attended Shan.”

  Fremma blinked, not sure he was hearing properly, but Korba continued.

  “When Shan took us back there this morning, we found her near death from hemorrhaging.” Korba took a deep breath. “It seems that she had—” Korba stopped, trying hard to deal with his own surfacing emotions. He lowered his voice and looked down. “It seems that they had conceived a child, but Chelan had kept that hidden from Shan, afraid that he would feel trapped by her. He returned to us and the service never knowing about her pregnancy.”

  Dar and Fremma remained motionless, their eyes riveted to Korba.