by Shae Mills
Terig winked at her and then returned to his meal. “Because, if you were mine, I wouldn’t.”
Chelan watched him devour the oatmeal feverishly. “He wouldn’t get much work done then, would he.”
Terig stopped in mid-bite. “You’re right, I suppose not.”
Chelan shrugged. “Well, he rules the galaxy and he gets plenty accomplished, so that should answer your question.”
Terig glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “With bloody little sleep, I expect.”
Chelan grinned and then returned to her oatmeal. She took other spoonful, the milk thick and creamy. Then she stared at it. “By the way, what is this? Or rather, where is the milk from?”
“You like it?”
“Well, it’s different. It tastes fine, but it’s very rich.”
“Hmm... Well, it’s Centurion milk.”
Chelan dropped her spoon. “You milk Centurions?”
“Aye.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“’Fraid not.”
Chelan was suddenly consumed by tremors, nearly falling from her chair as peals of laughter spilled forth.
“Now, what is that all about?”
Chelan stood up straight and wiped tears from her eyes. “I was just thinking. If I ever have need for you to... err... help me out... Well, if the Cleosans ever fired you from your work and you were jobless, you could always get a position milking things. I suspect you’re pretty good at it.”
This time Terig lunged at her with blinding speed, a motion that rivaled that of any Iceanean warrior. All she had time to do was shriek as he grabbed her by the arm and threw her over his shoulder. Then he marched out into the main hall and sat himself upon one of the long benches. There he cast her squirming body across his knees.
“Oh my god, Terig! You dare to treat the Empress thus?” she cried.
“Aye... this is the least of what I dare to do.”
Chelan pushed against him and rolled away from him. Sitting back on the floor, she cleared her hair from her red face. “Seems you missed your chance,” she laughed.
Terig leaned back on the bench, his smile broad. “Nay, I let my quarry go. But be fair warned, my Lady, next time there will be no reprieve.”
Chelan straightened. “Warning heeded. But just remember, I can dish out as well as I can take.”
Terig leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Challenge gladly accepted.” And they laughed. It was a delightful morning for both.
Chapter 22
CHELAN JOINED TERIG about midday out on the battlements, where they both looked about themselves. Nothing had changed. Everywhere was just a swirling mass of gray and black. Near the base of the shielding, Chelan could see where the sand was piling up in huge irregular dunes, shifting in size right before her eyes. Then she looked toward the bailey. “Where’s Shabby?”
“With his family in the stables.”
“I take it not stables like I’m acquainted with.”
Terig’s eyes glinted. “No. His residence has all the comforts of home, a home meeting all the requirements of a Centurion.”
“Does Shabby know Korba?”
“Sure does. During Korba’s exile here, we imported thousands of Centurions for war games.”
“You mean you fought on horseback? I mean, on the Centurions?”
“Aye. It was a fine way to hone sword and knife skills. Even the ancient joust was resurrected. But fighting from the back of a Centurion is very different from fighting from horseback.”
“How so? And why would you even attempt to fight from horseback... er... on the Centurions? With all the Empire’s technology, isn’t it a bit archaic?”
“I know what you’re thinking. Of course the battleships and fighters are the front lines of the Empire in galactic warfare, but there are still many times when hand to hand is necessary. In some of Talon’s breeding colonies and other very sensitive areas, sensors and countermeasures were set up to take out the Empire’s low-flying fighters. Looking for sporadic, slow-moving ground forces wasn’t a priority. Korba could take a few men mounted on Centurions and move discretely and quickly to surround isolated colonies. Not only were his unorthodox attacks completely unanticipated, being mounted had enormous advantages. All told, the Warrior–Centurion combination wasn’t used much, but when it was, it proved to be deadly effective.”
Chelan looked out over the castle walls as images of mounted Iceanean warriors on the majestic Centurions rode through her mind. “Wow—I had no idea! Of course, until I came here, I had no idea the Centurions existed.”
Terig glanced at her. “I know Korba’s been extremely busy in his role at the top again. And with a new child, I don’t know how he manages what he does. He simply didn’t have the time to tell you all.”
Chelan shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. He has sought to spare me the details of both his exile and the overthrow.”
Terig paused. “I know the entire story surrounding you, my Lady. It must all be very painful for you, maybe even now.”
Chelan glanced up at him. “Well, all that happened to me at Talon’s hands, that was more than enough to digest originally. I suppose that’s why Korba has never allowed me access the rest of the information.”
“A wise choice on his part, my Lady.”
Chelan chewed at her cheek. “Things are different now. I still have my moments, but overall, I’m now ready to face all that happened. In fact, some of it I feel I need to know in order to continue to heal.”
“Have you told him that?”
“No, not yet. But I will. I think one day it would be cathartic for both of us to sit down together and start the process of dealing with it all. Parts will be painful no doubt. But if he and I face it together, I am sure many scars will fade.”
Terig nodded to her. “Nothing about either war needs to be tackled all at once. You can absorb the information on your own time, slowly, processing it in a way that helps. Seeing it from all sides will put into perspective. And who knows? Maybe one day all the missing information will coalesce into a balm that soothes your soul once and for all.”
Chelan smiled. “That’s the plan. Right now I know that I’ll never come to terms with the loss of Dar and Fremma without seeing everything with my own eyes. I need to listen to the final logs, see their final moments. I know Korba thinks it will only bring me more pain, but right now I feel within my heart, these massive black holes that eat away at me daily. There’s always a dark undercurrent that threatens my sanity where they are concerned. These men were my loves, and they were killed. I need to come to terms with that once and for all so that I can finally lay them to rest.”
Terig scanned the devastation in front of him, the howling winds momentarily making talking difficult. When the cacophony settled a bit, he spoke. “I understand what you’re saying, my Lady. I do. We are all stronger now. Many of our open wounds have healed. It’s time for the last of them to be mended.”
Chelan nodded. “Yes. It’s time...,” she whispered to herself.
They were both quiet for a long time, lost in their own thoughts. Then Chelan spoke. “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed the gown.”
Terig looked over at her with reverence. “Hardly. It looks as though it was made for you.”
“I picked it because it was beautiful in its simplicity.”
“Maybe so. But it’s you that makes it so beautiful.”
Chelan looked away. “Why did you collect the gowns?”
Terig returned his gaze out over the grounds. “Just to complete the collections. I have men’s clothing for the periods also.”
Chelan glanced over his hard body. “You wear the garb of the English.”
Terig smiled. “It’s just what I’m used to.”
Chelan felt a spear of excitement strike her. “I saw the Mackenzie plaid in the far chamber. Do you have a kilt?”
He chuckled and turned to her, then leaned his elbow on the top of the castle battlement.
“Why? Want to find out what a Scotsman wears under his kilt?”
“You bait me, my Lord. Treys, they are.”
Terig nodded to her. “Touché, my Lady, but not always. Ask a true Highlander.”
Chelan blushed again and quickly turned the conversation. “During the storms, what do you do here all day, day in and day out?”
“With most of the storms, I haven’t been trapped. I think only twice, actually. And during those two times, maintenance, mostly.”
Chelan looked over the vastness of the castle and the grounds. “I don’t know how you manage it all.”
Terig smiled. “It’s a passion. A labor of love.”
“A passion like mine, only at least you have access to yours.”
Terig’s expression became serious. “You’re referring to RIBUS 7?”
Chelan smirked. “Korba won’t let me near her, as you well know.”
“He has good reason for that. She’s a powder keg.”
Chelan glanced away. “I would come to no harm. I know it.”
“You certainly don’t lack confidence.”
“It has nothing to do with confidence. Nothing would happen to me on her decks.”
“How do you know that for sure?”
She faltered, unsure she wanted to explain, but his eyes held her. “A presence,” she uttered just loud enough to be heard.
Terig looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t understand.”
“Originally, I thought it had something to do with Fremma,” she admitted.
Terig straightened. “Fremma is dead, my Lady. RIBUS 7 was blown apart on my doorstep.”
“I know. I just... I know it’s silly, but I can feel him or some other spectral phenomenon guiding me.”
“His spirit, you mean? Or something born of the cosmos?”
Chelan shrugged. “I have no idea. I liken it to being reached out to from beyond. And as far as actual spirits are concerned, Korba squashes the idea, as do I.”
“I would be prone to doing that also, having lived just long enough on Earth to have had my fill of such talk. But I’ve also been in space long enough to know that not all is what it seems. Maybe there is something to it.” He paused. “So, what has he—Fremma or whatever—said to you?”
“He, or it, doesn’t speak to me. It’s feelings that I get. He, or whatever, has always wanted me to find RIBUS 7, and now I feel like he wants me on her decks. At first, I thought it was to find his body, to bring him home, but now I know it’s not that. I honestly think he wants me not only to find my dream, but to resurrect it—RIBUS 7.”
She felt a shiver go through her. “I felt him on Earth when I was with Dar. I felt as though contact with him, in whatever form, was imperative for some reason. As time went on, that feeling evolved into the need to find RIBUS 7. Yet I knew, once she had been destroyed, that the prospect of actually finding her was bleak. It was easy to locate her last coordinates, obviously, but since it was assumed she had been obliterated, no one ever looked for her. Actually, the Empire was so occupied for so long, there was no one to look for her! And with all her communications down, and no Imperial beacons to search for, she was assumed completely gone. Plus, with the bombardment, who knew what direction any remnants of her would drift. Add in Yanis’s firsthand account of the last gasps of battle and, well, there was simply no reason to look for her, let alone expect to find her salvageable.”
“Now that you’ve been on board her, what do you feel?”
“Something completely different. What I felt on Earth was a draw to either Fremma or the ship. That still hits me at times even though she’s been found. While on her now, I sense something is there, trying to guide me, but to where and for what purpose, I’m not sure.”
Terig was perplexed. “This new feeling or entity wants you somewhere specific on the ship?”
Chelan shrugged. “That I don’t know. But I disobeyed Korba when I was on board and wandered down the main corridor until I felt I should stop. In that instance, it was more of a gut instinct.”
“Where exactly was that?”
“At the junction to another corridor not far from the Command Center. The air was dank and impure. The hull had been breached somewhere beyond, and obviously the external containment, though repaired, wasn’t perfect. The area was dark and cordoned off... but I could feel a pull, like something wanted me to go farther.”
Terig winced. “You know, continuing on would not have been prudent, even with whatever or whoever as a guide. Why don’t you order some of the crew there to go in and investigate for you?”
Chelan mulled his suggestion over. “I guess I could. But in every area of the ship explored previously, none of the crew, the sensors, the orbs, or the rovers have ever found anything.”
Terig hesitated, a challenge presenting itself. “Where does this corridor lead?”
Chelan looked up at him, suddenly curious as to his interest. “Crew quarters—that’s all.”
“What do they back onto?”
Chelan furrowed her brow. “I never looked. I never paid attention to that aspect. I’ve studied at the schematics, but I always focused on the quarters, even noting the names of the last crew members to occupy them. But nothing popped out at me. Why are you wondering about the surrounding areas?”
“Oh, nothing specific comes to mind, but when you get back to RIBUS 1, take a look. Better yet, transfer the schematics of the specific area to me.”
Chelan found herself almost breathless, realizing that Terig was not revealing all of his thoughts. And just what could this man do for her? But right now was not the time to pry. “I will,” she uttered.
He smiled at her. “Together, if you’re interested, maybe we can solve this little mystery once and for all.”
Chelan beamed. “You’ll help?”
Terig hesitated, remembering Korba’s orders for him, to keep her off the decks of the RIBUS 7 at all costs. “Aye, however I can,” he assured. “That is, from afar, of course.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
THE REST OF THE DAY was pleasant as Terig took Chelan out briefly to meet with Shabizar, and then they returned to the keep for an early dinner. Bidding Terig good night, Chelan returned to her room. The moment she began releasing the ties of the gown, her swollen breasts started to ache painfully. Chelan slipped into Terig’s shirt and then hugged herself, the weight of her breasts causing her to groan with misery. She had just sat on the edge of the bed when there came a knock at the door. “Come in.”
Terig slipped in with no hesitation, and strode across the room to her, planting himself in a chair across from her. “I thought I would check on you directly and offer my services to you tonight. I fear you will not come to me, so I have decided to come to you. I know not about nursing mothers, but I know that a child nurses more than once a day, and so you must be in some discomfort.”
Chelan nodded. “I must admit that you are astute, but so far I don’t seem to be in trouble. I’ll work with warm compresses again and see how it goes.”
Terig frowned. “I hope you haven’t left this too long? And either way, I fear if I leave you to your own devices, you’ll fail to request my help even if you damn well know you need it.”
Chelan’s mouth opened, but for a moment she was struck mute. Eyeing him closely, she finally spoke. “It’s important to keep things drained, but I’m not too sore, and what scant redness there has been is no worse. But you’re right: despite Korba’s suggestion to me and his orders to you, I would be lying if I said I could come to you for this without trepidation.”
Terig became stone still. “My Lady, I pray you don’t fear me?”
“Oh no! You misunderstand. I have no reservations whatsoever regarding your honor or subsequent conduct should I... should we... uh... It’s just that...”
Terig’s muscles relaxed. “I know what I told you about Kip and my loneliness, and I would be lying if I said I’m utterly immune to your feminine beauty. But I know my place, a
nd I do pride myself on the fact that not only do I have a superb sense of control, I, more than anyone on this planet, or positioned above it, am aware of Earthly mores and values. Add in the fact that your mate spoke at length to me about you and, well, I completely understand your reticence. Having said all that, I have my orders, and I will not let you fall ill if more conservative measures could help. Are we in agreement?”
Chelan noted the authority in his voice and saw the determination in his eyes. “Well then, we understand one another. I will not jeopardize myself, thereby inflaming his Lordship and placing you in less than favorable circumstances.”
Terig nodded once and rose to his feet smoothly. “Then I leave you to your task. You know where to find me if necessary. Good night, my Lady.” And he was gone.
Chelan sprang into motion the moment the door was closed. Grabbing a cloth, she silently left the room, padded down the stairs, and stepped into one of the many modern washrooms. There she ran the hot water into the sink and began tending to her chore.
Time ticked on as she worked her breasts until they were as relieved as she could manage. Looking at herself in the mirror, she examined herself critically, checking for excessively red areas or abnormal swellings, but all appeared well. Then she ran her hands over herself several times feeling for lumps or sore spots. All seemed healthy, at least for the time being. Finally, she stood up straight, thinking of the man, the warrior, with whom she now resided. She glanced down at herself as she did up his shirt, wondering just how detached the man could remain if forced to tend to her. But the truth of the matter was, she hoped never to find out.
She turned her back to the mirror and drew her fingers through her hair. She could no longer afford to be distracted by her surroundings—not the storm, the castle, the Centurions, or the man. She had to pay attention to herself and take care of things on a regular basis, as unfortunately, Terig was alone... desperately alone, and getting him to... Well, she was not going to do that to the man, Korba’s orders or not.
Suddenly, without thought, she found herself tiptoeing down the cold stone hallway. When she reached Terig’s door, she stood quietly, and listened. She knocked gently, but there was no answer. Finally, she opened the door silently, and slipped in.
