by Shae Mills
“An Iceanean woman? Lena will kill him.”
Korba chuckled. “I hope not. That would be too easy. Although I know she would be more than happy to oblige.”
Chelan sank to her chair. “You’re deliberately avoiding answering me.”
Korba resumed his seat and began into his food. “Let’s just say that our women are more than a handful. They’re every bit as bright and capable as our men. And strengthwise, Lena will be more than a match for a man of Earth. With a few hard lessons, I’m sure Jim will come to understand that.”
“But she’s still Iceanean,” Chelan protested.
“And she is still a woman.”
“When I deal with your men, I deal with them differently because they’re Iceanean.”
“But you know our differences with regard to both our laws and our mores. Jim doesn’t.”
“Still, there are things Lena wouldn’t dare try. And what if Jim should attempt...”
Korba grinned. “Lena is a finely honed Imperial warrior under my command. There is nothing she is not capable of handling. And if he should try anything untoward with her, who do you think will come out with the upper hand? Jim is not dealing with a woman of your world.”
“Why pick a woman to enlighten him?”
“I understand there’s much he needs to know, so who better to teach him?”
Chelan groaned. “Oh, no... You can’t mean that she’ll sleep with him?”
Korba shrugged. “Maybe, at some point. That will be up to her.”
Chelan sagged farther into her chair. “What kind of punishment will that inflict?”
Korba laughed. “Oh, my Lady. You forget some of our differences. If Lena chooses to tutor him in some of the finer details of sexual expression, Jim won’t be there for a romp in a park. He’ll be there for the workout of his life.”
Chelan finally cracked a grin.
Will continued to eat, fascinated by the conversation. “Could I be of any assistance?”
Chelan’s well-placed kick to his shin elicited a frantic yelp.
Korba could only smile. “Jim will learn much about courtesy and respect, and soon. His lessons will not come easy. But once the man has absorbed all that is to be taught, he will be returned to Earth, and everything will be forever changed. Dar chose to spare the man, and out of respect for Dar, I will not kill Jim, at least for now. But he will not be returned to Earth unscathed.”
Korba continued to stare at Chelan in silence, unwilling to elaborate further. Jim was now Korba’s pawn, and the man would do his bidding for all time, one way or another.
Chapter 12
WILL SPENT EVERY MOMENT with Chelan and Korba, continuing his tour of the ship and engaging in quiet conversation with his sister. Then, far too soon, he was bundled up and returned to Earth. But this parting was far sweeter. Brother and sister both knew that there would be future visits, family connections preserved throughout time.
In the meantime, Jim had been swallowed into the bowels of the ship, and Chelan promptly forgot about him. She wanted nothing more to do with the man—or his training, whatever that entailed—and she hoped she would never lay eyes on him again.
With the visits to Earth and with Chelan’s brother, complete, the giant battleships were once again in motion, and within a month they reached RIBUS 7. The three cruisers remained a safe distance from the volatile derelict, all of the Commanders keenly aware of the danger she posed. Within the first week of the fleet’s arrival, fresh crews were dispatched to the decks of RIBUS 7, and the reports from the salvage crews and engineers were flooding in like never before.
Chelan paced the Command Center like a caged cat. Being in such close proximity to the once gallant ship put her nerves on edge. She knew the ship could go up at any time in an explosion of nova proportions, and seeing RIBUS 7 so utterly destroyed caused her heart to tumble. But at the same time, it ignited her desires. She wanted nothing more than to wander her decks again, the decks where she first learned to love, the decks where her heart was ensnared by three of the greatest men the galaxy had ever seen, the decks where her new life among the cosmos began. Despite her access to each and every exceedingly detailed report coming in, both written and visual, the lure of the giant vessel was pulling her inexorably closer and closer.
Chelan whirled about and watched as Korba, Zane, and Ilan entered the Center. She wrung her hands together. “Well?”
Korba frowned at her. “Patience.”
“Oh, my Lord, you know I no longer have any.”
Zane smiled. “We all feel the same, my Lady, but she is far from even remotely safe.”
Ilan concurred. “She has just enough power surging through her to make her an unpredictable timebomb. Add in all her grievous wounds, and we must proceed ever so slowly.”
Chelan slumped into her chair. “I completely understand, but I am going crazy.”
All three men sat. “You will survive,” assured Korba. “You can be in on every part of the repairs. Much scheduling and planning must go into this endeavor to avoid both disaster and the waste of precious time. The three RIBUSes cannot be detained here indefinitely. Especially me. I have an Empire to run, and that is best done from Iceanea for the most part.”
Chelan nodded. “So, what is first?”
Korba leaned back in his chair. “We have already prepared rosters for all three battleships. Crews will rotate around the clock, each contingency focusing on different parts of RIBUS 7. She will be scanned and studied stem to stern, this time with much more attention paid to every minute detail. Once the reports are in, we can start ordering supplies.”
Chelan straightened. “Supplies? From where? I know our battleships can support vast areas of manufacturing themselves, but for a project so big, raw materials must come from somewhere else, right?”
Zane spoke. “There is a planet here in the Balatesian system known as Cleos. She has always been our main source of Tythalion, along with a couple of other planets in her solar system.”
“Of what?” Chelan inquired.
“Tythalion is the primary ingredient in the alloy that makes up these ships,” offered Ilan.
Chelan looked at Korba. “So, that is why Talon used the Balatesian system as his spawning ground.”
Korba’s brows rose. “That is very astute of you, my Lady. He posed as an emissary for us and obtained all the Tythalion he required to construct most of his formidable fleet.”
Chelan struggled to keep haunting images from assaulting her. “Do the people of Cleos know of their folly?”
“They have for a while, my Lady,” replied Zane. “But there is no punishment forthcoming. Talon’s deceit was clever and foolproof. The Cleosans were absolved of any deliberate wrongdoing. There was no complicity. And even the Telesians were duped.”
Chelan nodded. “So when do our actual repair crews hit her decks?”
Korba drew a deep breath. “Soon—tomorrow, possibly—but first we will meet with the head of the salvage crews, and then with the Telesians to get their input. Since they are the designers of these vessels, they will know how best to proceed most efficiently. The first crews deployed will be relatively few in number and will tackle the most important safety concerns first. Once most of those have been addressed, larger crews can begin with the power supplies and the engine rooms. From there, once internal power is fully restored to critical areas, we can unleash the masses upon her. But I will leave the actual progression of all that up to the Telesians. Constructing a whole new RIBUS would actually be easier than the task we are embarking upon. Therefore, they will be an integral part of this whole process from beginning to end.”
Chelan was hit with renewed excitement. “So will I finally meet these people I have heard of so often and for so long?”
Korba nodded. “Of course you will. In fact, the Ambassador and his entourage should be entering our main conference room right about now. Do you wish to attend?”
“Oh, you know I do!”
K
orba stood and offered his arm. “Well then, gentlemen, shall we all go meet Ambassador Fleur?”
CHELAN WAS SO KEYED up with anticipation that she found herself breathless by the time they arrived at the main conference hall. Outside the doors, Korba stopped, and Chelan took a moment to compose herself. She smoothed her gown. “So, I take it they speak Iceanean?”
Korba chuckled. “Yes, they do, more or less.”
Before Chelan could ask him to clarify himself, he turned and stepped through the doors. Chelan followed and was immediately met by Lethiason and Rayik. “My Lady,” they greeted in unison.
Chelan curtsied. “My Lords,” she said with a smile. Then she looked beyond them, instantly recognizing most of the high-ranking officers from all three battleships. But what really caught her eye was the one thin, wispy little creature approaching her.
The Iceanean officers stepped aside, to allow its passage. It stopped an arm’s length from Chelan, and huge, black, slanted teardrop eyes blinked at her.
Chelan automatically curtsied once again. “I am Chelan,” she offered.
A small four-fingered hand reached for her hand and squeezed it delicately. Then Chelan flinched as a voice spoke from within her own mind. The tone was soft and melodic, almost feminine.
“I am pleased to finally meet you, my Lady. It is indeed a privilege.”
Chelan blinked, her eyes riveted to the Telesian. His head was large, tapering into a narrow chin, antlike in shape. The only thing interrupting the flawless fabric of his grayish flesh were the large, soft eyes. He stood maybe four feet tall, his naked body devoid of any markings. His arms and legs were no thicker than her own slender wrists, seeming to lack any muscle definition whatsoever. Finally, remembering her hand, she graciously retracted it from his pliant, warm flesh. “I am honored to meet you, sir.”
The small being nodded. “I am Ambassador Fleur,” the voice in her head said. “I hope my delegation here can be of assistance to you in your noble quest to resurrect one of the most beautiful and majestic ships in the galaxy.”
Chelan radiated with fascination. “Yes, Ambassador. I know your expertise will be invaluable.”
With that said, Chelan saw what she could only interpret as a smile emanating from the mouthless being. Then he bowed to her as he turned and resumed his place near the head of the table.
In all, there were twenty Telesians in attendance, and at least quadruple that number of Iceanean officers. Chelan and Korba traversed the hall and sat at the head of the table, and soon the meeting was under way.
Chelan was as mesmerized by the telepathic communication as she was spellbound by the conversation. It was as though she were watching a movie, the surround sound invading her mind to its very core. Though she thought she could tell which Telesian was speaking, she was never completely sure. Regardless, the conversation was orderly and concise, the material covered most efficiently and at an astonishing rate.
And as if she could not be enraptured any more by the unorthodox proceedings, from the center of the vast table before her arose a perfect 3-D rendition of RIBUS 7. The display oscillated back and forth between the ship’s former majesty and her present form as strategies for her reconstruction were discussed. Images could be peeled back or slices taken, areas under scrutiny enlarged and dissected as required. She was transfixed.
Technology aside, it was amusing to look over the unlikely mix of Iceanean warriors fraternizing with the antlike wisps of Telesians. Physically, they were night and day, the warriors near seven feet tall, muscled beyond belief, their faces as expressive as need be. The Telesians probably tipped scales at about fifty pounds, if that, their bodies appearing as delicate and as breakable as young willow branches. But Chelan was well aware of what went on inside those disproportionately large heads. Nothing in the galaxy matched their intellect, a fact the Iceaneans respected and had utilized to their own advantage for centuries. Literally, the two cultures balanced one another, the brains and the brawn, working together in perfect harmony—synergy.
Chelan finally focused back on the last details of the conversation.
“Therefore,” continued Fleur, “the Cleosan Ambassador, Embrose, and his emissary, Terig, will wish to confer with us as soon as possible. They have already stepped up the acquisition of Tythalion, and factories involved in its purification on all the involved planets are working around the clock as we speak. But they will need detailed projections and end goals.”
Korba nodded. “The crews from these ships will begin work tomorrow. The Commanders here will feed all progress reports directly to me. The engineers should have their reports together shortly thereafter. I project that the initial walk-through and analysis should take no more than a month, barring any setbacks. Crews will operate rovers in unsafe areas. When all the data is acquired, the engineering analysis should wrap up within the following week.”
Fleur nodded. “Excellent. My people will man your computers and study the data in tandem with your engineers. The time frame you have proposed seems most reasonable. From there you can negotiate with the Cleosans for the material and any other supplies we will need over the long run. After that, we will assist with directing the restoration on a continual basis.”
Korba spoke “The Cleosans have already been working closely with the salvage crews and are well abreast of the scope of this reconstruction project. Although they do not have the specifics as of yet, they are already coordinating all aspects of the material acquisition and have already begun the manufacture of structures that will be essential to getting RIBUS 7 on her way.”
Fleur’s large eyes seemed to glisten. “As always, the Empire under your guidance flows with the liquidity of pure unimpeded water, my Lord. I am sure that between my people, alongside the Cleosans, and yourself, this will indeed be a smooth process.”
Korba’s brows rose. “I hope you are right, Ambassador. But the warrior in me knows that no battle is won until the last weapon is laid to rest. That ship out there could derail the best-laid plans in a heartbeat. And though we have scanned her for such, it is not beyond the realm of possibilities that Talon left her carcass rigged for just such a venture as we are endeavoring to undertake. He was a brilliant tactician, and he was well aware of the value of that vessel to our Empire. Smooth is only a relative term. Until she is washed of all previous battle wounds, her halls and decks scoured, nothing will be assumed to be easy—or safe.”
Fleur appeared to smile. “A point well taken, my Lord. I will leave that battle up to you and under your direction.”
Korba smiled back and then looked about the room. “Well, if no one has anything further to add, I think we should all get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day, one of many to come.”
A murmur went through the masses, and then slowly the men began to rise and leave. In a short time, only Korba and Chelan remained with the Telesian contingent. All large eyes were on them.
Korba straightened. “Ambassador Fleur. It is a pleasure as always to work with you.”
“As it is for me to work for you once again, my Lord.”
Korba smiled. “I hope all your accommodations are to your liking?”
A Telesian near the end of the table spoke. “I think I speak for all of us, my Lord. As usual, your crews have outdone themselves.”
Korba nodded. “Thank you, Amee. You and your people deserve the best.”
Fleur stirred. “I hope all goes well, my Lord. I have only one remaining concern.”
Korba nodded.
“I too have studied the reports of the salvage crews,” said Fleur, “along with my colleagues here, and we all know that she is more than a little volatile at the moment. That in itself is not unexpected, but with your added concern pertaining to potential hidden dangers left by Talon, I do hope your crews realize that, initially, their lives could be in grave danger.”
Chelan became very still.
Korba placed an arm over her slender shoulders. “I assure you, Ambassador, we
are well aware of the risks. My crews are literally doing battle on her decks, and they are prepared for anything.”
Chelan swallowed hard, wetting her suddenly parched throat. “Talon rigging traps aside, may I inquire as to the potential nature of these risks, above the obvious, of course?”
Fleur began to elaborate. “One of the eight engine rooms still operates, at least partially, as I know you are aware of, my Lady.”
Chelan nodded. “Yes. What we refer to as her ‘spark of life.’”
Fleur nodded. “According to all reports, from this energy supply, bits and pieces of the ship still live, shall we say. As a result, some areas, such as the central Command Center, some of the crew’s quarters, and the aft Bridge have a degree of unstable power.”
Chelan wrung her hands. “Unstable power?”
“Yes. It has a tendency to fluctuate, and in other areas of the ship, tendrils of power reach out only intermittently. These surges or inconsistencies are inherently treacherous. You could be walking down a corridor seemingly devoid of all power only to get obliterated by a sudden blast of energy. And even in the more stable areas, such as the aft Bridge, the gravity is still inconsistent. This is also a factor in other areas where the gravitation fields generated by the power source are erratic. One moment you could be floating, the next you could be crushed.”
Chelan recoiled. “I had no idea,” she whispered.
Another Telesian sifted forward. “That says nothing of the profusion of simple physical risks. Bulkheads can still give way. She is breached by thousands of holes. Anyone could be struck by space debris at any time. Her hull is fragmented by metal shards that could snag a space suit or sever a limb. The crews must be ever so cautious. And then there is the constant threat of elevated radiation levels in some areas, both cosmic and from the damaged generators.”
Korba acknowledged the Telesian speaking. “All that has been taken into consideration by the crews that have boarded her to date, and so far, there have not been any casualties, although more than a few probes have met their untimely end. We will continue to take the utmost care.” Then he looked to Chelan. “My Lady, do you have any other questions?”
