by Shae Mills
“Do the Telesians think the alloy came from Cleos?”
“They do not know for sure, and neither do the Cleosans. So far, they have found no indications that any of it was produced legitimately on Cleos. That, of course, means it could have been manufactured either clandestinely or by accident. But both those scenarios are highly unlikely. Anyway, they want you to take a look at the material personally and assess its properties and the engineering required to put it in place. Maybe that will shed some light on this puzzling find. Thus far, spectrograms have been taken, as well as chemical assays. All the data is there, but I thought you might find it interesting to take a closer look, and maybe you can figure out the mystery.”
Terig nodded. “Absolutely. I will speed up the process of sifting through any information pertaining to the manufacture of the alloy from this end, but I suspect it is alien. In the meantime, I suggest you order a halt to all work near these areas until I can get a fix on things. I believe you had a new shipment of parts delivered yesterday. I would not use any of it near these areas until I have verified a few things.”
Korba nodded. “Done. Work will continue around the clock in all other areas. So, until the storm halts, repairs in these areas will cease.”
Chelan finally spoke, as she pointed to a branch of the transportation tube. “Which area does that traverse?”
Korba typed in some numbers and the area flashed. “Those are the crew’s quarters, Deck 171, Area A.F.”
Chelan controlled herself carefully. “Thank you.”
Korba stared at her. “Why do you ask?”
She shook her head. “No reason—just trying to familiarize myself with all the areas.”
Korba nodded and then looked back at Terig. “I have the Cleosans doing an in-depth analysis of the storm situation. After they get back to me, we will see if we can speed things along by extracting the two of you, or if we should just wait. Unfortunately, there have been spotty storm eruptions around the planet, so getting you to an extraction site that is completely clear or that will remain clear while you are in transport is potentially an issue. Plus I would need to first get men in place for Chelan’s safety, so the whole procedure could be quite protracted, with no success guaranteed.”
Terig glanced at Chelan and then back to Korba. “I will leave all the logistics up to you, my Lord. In the meantime, keep me informed as to all the data incoming from all agencies, and I will see if I can make heads or tails of this.”
Korba smiled. “Thank you, my good man. I am sure we will have this sorted soon.” Then he looked at Chelan. “Any questions from you, my Lady?”
Chelan shook her head. “Not at the moment, but I suspect I will have plenty as the investigation continues.”
Korba sat back. “Well then, I shall take my leave for now and get back to things here.”
Terig nodded. “We will speak again soon, my Lord.” And the link was severed.
Chelan jumped to her feet and started out of the room, but Terig grabbed her. “We need to talk about the transport tunnels, my Lady.”
Chelan’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”
“Don’t play me the fool. I could tell by your question to Korba that it’s the tunnel that traverses the crew’s quarters that interest you, isn’t it.”
Chelan nodded.
Terig drew in a deep breath. “The mystery deepens, my Lady.”
“Do you think this alloy or whatever is significant?”
“It could be. But it depends on its properties. Once I’ve gone over it thoroughly, maybe I can get a fix on its origins. If I can do that, then maybe parts of the mystery will reveal themselves.”
Chelan was suddenly beside herself with excitement. “From what you’ve seen, what Korba presented to you, someone has done that since the ship was destroyed, right?”
“Oh, now wait—not necessarily! Repairs and retrofits are an ongoing process on these ships. Those areas could have been repaired long ago with accidentally contaminated materials, or even purposefully contaminated for some reason. The RIBUSes have normal supply chains that they feed from, but during times of war, goods—all raw and manufactured materials deemed necessary—are obtained from planets and cultures not normally used. We’ll have to check repair logs for that area and see.”
Chelan nodded. “Of course.” Her shoulders slumped a bit. “I hadn’t thought about that. When repairs or supplies are needed, they’re sometimes needed immediately and acquired in any manner necessary.”
Terig smiled. “Exactly, and in the meantime, while we’re waiting for more reports, and while we’re still marooned, let’s do some things around here, shall we? To that end, how about we both get some sleep and start fresh in the morning.”
“That sounds like a good plan. Good night, Terig.”
“Night, my Lady.”
CHELAN TOOK A WHILE to get to sleep, excitement and curiosity thwarting her initial attempts to quiet her mind. But eventually she drifted off, almost lulled to sleep by the throb of the storm. Rising in the morning, she tiptoed into the closest washroom and set about the task of emptying her breasts, showered, and then dressed in the soft brown gown.
She stepped out into the hall and wondered where she would find Terig, but then her nose caught the most wondrous smell... the scent of breakfast.
Smiling, she began her journey down to the kitchen. As she reached the entrance, she edged to the door and peeked around the corner. Suddenly she jumped, uttering a cry as a dirk slammed into the wood frame not a foot above her head.
“And, gut morn to ye, ma fair lass.”
Chelan removed her hands from the front of her mouth as she glared at Terig. “Is that how you greet all your guests? You scared the life from me, you insane rogue!”
“Aye! Got yer blood moving, didn’t it?” He paused, a large butcher’s knife in his hands. “By the way, insane, is it? Rogue, you say?” His eyes flashed as he cocked his head, thinking. “Aye... that’s about right.”
Chelan laughed as she reached for the dirk and yanked it from the wall. She walked into the kitchen, where he offered her a seat. She handed him the weapon and nodded to it. “I see you’re as proficient with a knife as the Iceaneans.”
He smiled, and as he spoke, the Scottish accent left his English. “I have to be in order to compete with those warriors. Originally, I was trained with combat knives, mostly for hand-to-hand confrontations; the knife was seen more as a utilitarian tool. But once I became intimately acquainted with the Iceaneans, the true use of the weapon quickly became apparent. The dirk in no way compares to the hand and balance of their throwing knives, of course, but after I was trained to throw, well, what an advantage that is!”
Chelan got comfortable. “Fremma trained me, and he explained why their warriors are so proficient with them. It all made a tremendous amount of sense.”
Terig glanced at her as he approached her with the morning meal. “Ever used one for real, or had the occasion to?”
Chelan cringed. “Actually, I was on the receiving end once, and I delivered once.”
Terig sat down fast. “The receiving end, my Lady?”
Chelan looked at him shyly and cleared her hair back from her neck and shoulder, revealing the faint hairlike scar. “It’s a long story, but let it suffice to say that one should not sneak up on an Iceanean warrior in a security-sensitive area where one should not be.”
Terig’s mouth opened but no sound emerged, his eyes as big as saucers as he stared at her soft white flesh.
Chelan grinned at the shocked man. She swiveled her chair toward him and startled him out of his stupor by resting her hand on his leg. “And!” she emphasized for effect, his eyes snapping to hers. “The real fun came not so long ago, when I got the chance to give as good as I got. I was having a bad day, a tad pissed at Talon while in his company, and I took the opportunity to put all Fremma’s training to good use.” She gave Terig a lopsided frown. “I was a little rusty, however, and when I released my knife, I’m afraid I only
managed to sink it into his upper arm rather than my intended target—his chest.”
Terig was still in a state of shock, the second revelation almost eclipsing the first. “You what?! You managed to knife Talon, a warrior supreme?”
“I had surprise on my side.”
Terig had to swallow to wet his throat in order to speak again. “And you survived... both events?” he whispered in awe.
Chelan smiled. “Yes, but both events were a bit traumatic.”
Terig nodded. “Indeed, my Lady, they would have been.” He hesitated, his voice quiet. “No wonder his Lordship is so protective of you. What you have endured...”
Chelan smiled warmly. “All in the past, my Lord.” Then she nodded at the meal. “How about for now you feed me so I don’t have yet another near-death experience, this one from starvation.”
Terig blinked and looked down. “Oh yes. Excuse me. My manners...” And he presented her with a plate adorned with two fried eggs, a sizable slice of ham, and two freshly buttered pieces of toast.
Her eyes bulged. “Is this for real?!”
Terig took a moment to adjust to the abrupt change of topic. He raised his brows as he set his plate in front of him. “Aye, it is. All from Earth.”
Chelan licked her lips and sliced into the ham. “By ‘Earth,’ you mean this is real ham from real pigs?”
“Uh-huh. And real eggs from real hens, and real whole wheat from Canada... the bread made here. The butter is compliments of the Centurions, though.”
Chelan took her first taste, closed her eyes and moaned. “Oh. My. God. This is the most divine taste sensation I have had in years.”
Terig smiled. “I can tell that you’ve been away from Earth too long.”
Chelan shrugged. “I don’t know about that analysis, but I have been away from my native North American food too long.”
Terig chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. When I first hit Scotland, I thought I was going to die of disgust. Plus, Kit introduced me to haggis right away, and I almost did die.”
Chelan laughed. “And then what?”
“Well, after years of visiting, I acquired a taste for Earth foods... especially the vast variety of European options. I got so I really looked forward to the culinary diversity there. But I never did get used to haggis.”
Chelan laughed again. “So... you partake in Earth foods here, for the most part?”
“Absolutely. Cleosan food is nearly as insipid as the people.”
Chelan’s brows rose in surprise. “Strong words coming from a man who could live anywhere in the cosmos but chooses here.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong—I’m referring to their complexions, not their personalities. They’re a vibrant race for the most part, even though they come across as very reserved. And they’re extremely intelligent.”
“But that vibrancy does not extend to the culinary?”
“Hell, no. Fortunately, I’ve managed to swing Leeman toward being a little more adventurous. She often comes here to dine with me.”
“I bet she comes here for more than the food...”
Terig glanced at her as he sliced into his eggs. “I suppose so. We do enjoy each other’s company immensely. We have a lot in common, and she likes to cook. So meals are shared with enthusiasm.”
Chelan nibbled at her toast. “So how do you get the food?”
“Believe me, it doesn’t come here on a regular schedule, as much as I would like it to. The Telesians scavenge some for me on their visits, but that’s sporadic at best. I haven’t been back to Earth for over a year, and I suppose if they decide to quit visiting, I’ll have to make the odd trip. In the past when I’ve gone, I’ve brought back vast quantities of supplies. It just makes sense. And as you know, I grow all my fresh produce. I have quite a seed bank here, also thanks to the Telesians.”
Chelan looked down at her ham, savoring every slow, delicious bite, and appreciating that Terig had chosen to share his limited food with her. Then her mind took a detour. “Today... later... if you aren’t too busy...”
“Uh-huh?”
“Would you take me to Shabby? I’d love to learn his language.”
Terig beamed. “I’m sure he would like that immensely. And I’ll introduce you to his family.”
“Ah, yes. You mentioned that his family was here. And what of the other Centurions?”
“Well, after Talon’s Empire fell, most returned to their home planet and some went to other planets. Those who stayed here wander the moors when they wish, but all have their own homes underground.”
Chelan was once again infused with excitement. “Well, as soon as we’re finished here, I would love to meet Shabby and his family.”
AFTER THE MEAL WAS done and the dishes were put away, Terig’s first order of business was to check the control center for incoming data on the anomaly, but there was none. Then he tapped into the Cleosan weather system and checked the storm and, more importantly, the reports on the shielding. All looked well.
From there, he led Chelan out into the bailey. Terig spoke. “Over here we go.” And at a huge set of beautifully carved wooden doors, Terig stopped and gave them a loud rap. Only moments passed before the doors opened.
Shabby stood just in front of them, and Chelan actually had to take a step back, her gaze casting upward to take in the entire sight of the massive animal.
“Shabizar,” Terig greeted in Iceanean.
Shabby nodded to them both.
“My Lady wishes to converse with you, or at least to begin to, if you have some time?”
Chelan watched Shabby’s ears closely, but then was distracted by other Centurions as they crowded in behind him.
Terig looked down at her. “Time for some introductions, my Lady.”
Chelan scanned over the wall of black before her, glancing into the ebony pools that stared back at her. Finally, she looked directly at Shabby. “I would love to be introduced to everyone, but I am afraid I will be hard pressed to tell any of you apart.”
Terig laughed. “Yes, I know the feeling, but believe me, none of them will ever take offense. It does indeed take a trained eye, but you will get the hang of it. In the meantime, I will introduce you to everyone.”
Terig took her by the hand and walked up to the Centurion standing closest to Shabby. “Chelan, this is Shira, Shabizar’s mate.”
Chelan automatically bowed. “Shira,” she greeted.
The massive Centurion bowed her head in return, and as she did, Chelan noticed some subtle differences between her and Shabby. She was overall a tiny bit smaller and finer muscled, but no less majestic.
Then Terig stepped past Shabby and Shira, and lead her to the next two Centurions. “And these are Bren and Zar, Shabby’s sons.”
Chelan curtsied to the young stallions, and they both bowed in return. Chelan could read warmth in Bren’s obsidian eyes, however, Zar was different, his posture almost arrogant, his eyes reflecting a sort of defiance. But she smiled at him. “It is a pleasure to meet both of you.” And both nodded in return.
Terig moved back beside Shabby while addressing Chelan. “During the Imperial training here, the Centurions inducted into Korba’s service learned a variation of the Iceanean battle language, both the reading of it and its approximation in delivery.”
“So, not all the Centurions sign?”
“Oh no, they all sign, they just have their own language. Ear motions supplement body postures, facial expressions, and a limited number of vocalizations. In fact, right now the Telesians are working on an actual vocal cord modification, a surgery that they hope will one day allow the Centurions to speak.”
Chelan’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow!” Then she looked at Shabby. “If they perfect it, would you have the surgery?”
Terig translated. “Absolutely, my Lady. To have the gift of that degree of communication would be indeed welcome.”
Chelan squared her shoulders. “Okay, well, in the meantime, where do we start?”
Terig smil
ed. “Raise your hand and show me some signs.”
Chelan took a moment to come up with something to say and then she began.
Terig nodded at her. “Tell me what you just did.”
“Hand tilts for major phrases, finger inclinations combined with precise positioning relative to one another in combination for additional phrasing and for individual words.”
“All with one hand, right?”
“Yes.”
“Now watch Shabizar repeat what you just signed. But you have to watch both ears.”
Chelan looked at Shabby and her eyes lit. “His left ear mimics phrases by turning in degrees; his right ear, the inclinations.”
“Aye, you are fast. Now you just have to adjust to the difference in his anatomy. His ears are not as dexterous as our hands and fingers. Slight changes with him take on greater meanings.”
Chelan stepped directly in front of Shabby. “How long have you known Shira?” she asked as she watched closely.
“I met her on Centurion about thirteen Imperial years ago,” Chelan uttered to herself. Then she looked at Terig for verification.
“Absolutely right, my Lady.”
Chelan nearly jumped for glee. Then she looked back at Zar, his dark eyes having never left her. “And you, Zar—have you always lived here on Cleos?” She watched carefully... frowning at one point before turning to Terig. “I think he said that he came here with his father several years ago, just after Korba’s Empire fell.”
Terig nodded. “That is correct. Keep watching.”
Chelan bit her lip as she returned her attention to Zar. She translated. “He participated in the war games, often by Korba’s side.”
Terig nodded again. “Excellent. Your command of the Iceanean battle language must be flawless. That would explain your ease with mastering this version.”
