TALON (RIBUS 7 Book 4)

by Shae Mills

  Chelan simply nodded, too exhausted to fight.

  Lethiason moved to a chair across from her and sat down. He spoke very softly. “My Lady, Talon’s body remains untouched. What do you wish us to do with him?”

  Chelan chewed at her cheek, desperately trying to keep her tears away. Braedon’s arms surrounded her, giving her the strength she needed. “What is usually done?”

  Lethiason relaxed minimally. “Some are dispatched into space. Some are buried; most are cremated.”

  Chelan stared off blankly for a moment. “Then cremation it is,” she whispered. “I want you to supervise it. I want him cremated in his entirety, his uniform, his shroud, and my hair.” She hesitated. “Then I want all the ashes placed in a sealed urn and brought to me.”

  Lethiason nodded. “It is done, my Lady.”

  “Then I want a fighter readied.”

  Lethiason stiffened. “May I ask why, my Lady?”

  “I am going back to the caverns with Braedon as soon as possible.”

  Lethiason’s eyes snapped to the red-skinned Southerner. But Braedon shook his head, and Lethiason fell mute. He took a short time to collect himself and finally nodded. “As you wish, my Lady.” He stood. “I will attend to Talon myself. I will care for him in his death as well as you would have yourself.”

  Chelan nodded and watched as he left. Then her eyes once again became vacant. “Who rules?”

  Her blunt question caught Braedon off guard. “You should ask Lethiason that, my Lady.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I know, but the truth is best left unspoken for now.”

  Chelan felt her body sway, but she steadied herself. “Why?”

  Braedon searched her face. “Please, Chelan. Wait for Lethiason. It will be better that way.”

  Chelan couldn’t muster the strength to argue. And besides, she no longer cared. She just wanted to get away forever. She lay back down on the bed and once again receded into uneasy sleep.

  As evening approached, Lethiason returned. Braedon watched as he placed the urn on the table and left. Braedon curled about the sleeping woman, and he, too, slept.

  *****

  When the third morning dawned, Chelan awoke to both Lethiason and Braedon. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her weary eyes. Braedon knelt in front of her. “You must come with us to the Command Center, my Lady.”

  Chelan recoiled. “No.”

  Braedon took her by the hands. “It is okay, Chelan. You must come. You must try.”

  Chelan pulled against him. “No!” she shouted.

  Braedon held her tight. “It is okay.” He nodded to the urn. “He is no longer there.”

  Chelan stared at the urn. “No…” she whispered. “The blood. I don’t want to see the blood.”

  “There is no more blood, my Lady.” His voice was soft and low. “Trust me.”

  Chelan took a moment and then nodded.

  Braedon supported her as she rose to her feet, but she could barely stand. Braedon took most of her weight in his arms, and they followed Lethiason out. When they entered the Command Center, both men stood by her side while she looked about her. Chelan began to slump as the horror assaulted her again, but Braedon helped her stay upright. Then a lone shroud stepped into the light from out of the workout area, and she froze.

  She swayed, trying to process what was happening. She stared at the figure, her eyes narrowing. Then she shrugged out of Braedon’s grasp. “That is him,” she said as steadily as she could.

  “Yes,” whispered Braedon.

  The next movement took the men by surprise. Chelan dropped like a stone, grabbing a throwing knife from Lethiason’s boot. In one lightning-swift move, she marked her target and raised her arm to throw.

  Braedon hardly had time to react, but Lethiason caught her arm just before she could release the knife. He twisted her hand just enough to force her to surrender the weapon and then subdued her in his mighty arms. Her strength was superhuman, and he nearly had to crush her to immobilize her. “Please, my Lady,” he pleaded. “Just wait!”

  Chelan strained against him with all her might. “I order you to let me go!” she shouted.

  Braedon gathered himself together, still stunned by the speed at which she had reacted.

  Lethiason tried his best to hang onto the struggling woman without hurting her. “Chelan, you have to trust us!”

  “I trust no one! Least of all you. You let this happen. Let me go!”

  Braedon finally snatched her from Lethiason and fell to the floor with her in a tangled heap. “You don’t understand yet,” he uttered hurriedly.

  “Why do you force me here?”

  Braedon finally managed to tame her. He hugged her to him and nuzzled in under her hair. His voice was low and soothing. “Listen. When you see him, you will understand.”

  “There is nothing to understand,” she seethed.

  Braedon closed his eyes. “Oh god, Chelan. I know your pain. Just please, trust me.” When she calmed a bit, he whispered to her. “You must meet him. Then afterward, we will go to the caverns, I promise.”

  Chelan’s fists entangled in his long hair. “You give me your word?”

  Braedon nodded. “With all my honor, you have my word.”

  Chelan held onto his neck, her grip like steel. Finally, she began to breathe normally, and she released him.

  Braedon pulled back. “I am going to sit you in the main chair, Chelan. Then Lethiason and I will leave you for a time. But we will be back shortly, and you will be safe.”

  Chelan nodded with resignation.

  Braedon kissed the top of her head. “He will not hurt you, I promise.”

  Chelan nodded again, and Braedon helped her to her feet. Then he ushered her to the main chair and sat her down. He kissed her forehead and then backed away.

  Chelan watched them leave, her heart beating out a staccato tempo. Then she hung her head, unable and unwilling to look at Talon’s murderer. She closed her eyes and willed herself to be calm. She dug her nails into the arms of the chair, and when she finally looked to the floor in front of her, she seized up. He was kneeling before her.

  Chelan pressed herself back into the chair. Then her eyes went wide. He drew a blade from his boot and presented the handle to her. Chelan stiffened further and held her breath. Her eyes darted between the blackness of his hood and the knife. She hesitated, but finally, she offered him her hand. Ever so gently, he placed the dagger in her grasp, tenderly curling her fingers about the handle. Then, slowly, he sat back on his heels.

  Chelan took a gulp of air and waited. Suddenly, his deep voice froze her solid. “After what I have done in front of your innocent eyes, my Lady, I will gladly grant you the option of my death if you so wish.”

  She furrowed her brows in abject confusion. Then his voice stopped her heart once again.

  “All I ask is that you look at me first. If you decide that my death is justified, yet you are unable to strike the fatal blow, Lethiason will carry out your wish. That has already been arranged.”

  Chelan was stunned. She pulled the knife to her chest and squinted into the darkness of the hood. His voice. What was it about his voice? Then she watched as he bowed his head and reached for his hood.

  Ever so slowly, he drew it back, his long, blue-black hair cascading over his features and down his chest. Then he raised his face, and their eyes locked.

  Chelan kicked back in shock, the knife spilling from her hand at the same instant the chair tipped. She fell back heavily under the console, hitting her head forcefully. She saw stars but managed to get her feet under her. Using the console for support, she stared at him hard.

  Korba clenched his jaw and winced with pain as he rose awkwardly to his feet. He tried to catch his breath, but as his chest expanded, he groaned in agony. He crossed his arms over himself and hunched over.

  Chelan began to shake. She watched helplessly as he tried to get his wind and stabilize himself. Then slowly, he began to straighten. He
r confusion ran rampant. It was as if a ghost stood before her. She looked down at the dropped knife. She had wanted so desperately to sink the blade into the faceless man, but now she wanted to… to do what?

  Chelan took in a sobbing breath and finally found the will to stand free of the console. Then, without conscious thought, she inched toward him. Once near, she raised her trembling hands to his chest, her eyes searching his. His pain, mental and physical, was plainly etched on his pallid face. She opened his shroud and then his jacket. Finally, she tore her eyes from his and looked at his torso.

  She gasped, and her tears flowed. Like Talon’s, his chest and abdomen were a mass of slashes and stabs. But unlike Talon, Korba had lived long enough for angry bruising to cover the entire area, his flesh puffy and distended with fluid and pockets of infection.

  Chelan snatched her hands back as though they had been singed. As soon as she had released him, he hunched over again and sought the back of the chair for support. He winced. “You may end my life, my Lady,” he uttered softly. “I would not blame you, nor would I stop you. And like Talon, my death would end all my pain and anguish, especially over that which I have inflicted upon you.”

  Chelan was horrified, and she searched futilely for words that would not come. But suddenly, the main doors opened, and Braedon and Lethiason stepped in. Chelan ducked around Korba, her head spinning. She hustled up to Braedon and grabbed his hand.

  Lethiason’s heart sank as he watched Korba’s head sag. Then, with battle language, Lethiason signaled, and guards flooded in and surrounded the failing man.

  Chelan glanced back, her gaze meeting Korba’s, but she was voiceless.

  His eyes were dull, his breathing labored. “I must go, my Lady. I will be in sickbay under Stose’s care should you wish to talk.” He paused. “You still have to make your choice about my life. You let Lethiason know when you have made that decision. If you choose to end it, Lethiason will carry out your orders.”

  She watched as he was supported and almost carried out. Only then did she release Braedon. She pushed back from him and looked frantically at him and Lethiason. “What the hell has happened here?”

  Lethiason cleared his throat and then nodded to the chairs at the consoles. When they were all seated, he began. “My Lady, the Empire is once again Korba’s.”

  Chelan’s eyes flared. “I cannot handle any of this!”

  Lethiason and Braedon looked at one another. Then Lethiason tried to explain. “I have always been an agent for the old Empire, my Lady. I have always been in Korba’s service.”

  Chelan shook her head in utter disbelief. “I knew something was amiss.”

  Lethiason shuffled about uncomfortably. “It is so complicated, my Lady, I honestly don’t know where to start.”

  She glared at him. “You had better start at the beginning.”

  Braedon cleared his throat. “As an outsider, maybe I can simplify things a bit.”

  Chelan looked to him expectantly.

  “Years ago, Korba suspected that there was more to ROPE than had been discovered. All along, he believed that there must be Iceanean breeding colonies somewhere, but he could never find them. With Ticees’ permission, he sent Lethiason out to infiltrate the main known ROPE colonies. But in order to gain access to the top brass controlling these outposts, Lethiason had to prove his loyalty to them. To do that, he brought with him many of the Empire’s most privileged and sensitive secrets. While he helped ROPE, he collected all the necessary information on the whereabouts of the elusive Iceanean colonies, knowledge imperative to overthrowing Talon in the end.”

  Chelan sank further down into her chair, her head aching. “In the end,” she repeated mournfully. “But the losses…” she whispered.

  Lethiason then spoke. “The strike by ROPE happened sooner than we anticipated, and Talon’s forces, aligned within ROPE, began eradicating us with unprecedented speed. The battleships ROPE had developed were formidable beyond belief. The losses were the result of both their superior technology and the Iceanean army they had amassed. But as our final defeat loomed, Korba picked up on Talon’s true intent. He knew that only after all of our forces seemed obliterated would Talon turn on ROPE. Most of the remaining RIBUSes and Iceanea itself ended up being sacrificed in order to buy the time Korba required to regroup and to plan for the final assault. All scenarios had to be precisely anticipated, all strategies perfectly executed. It took years.”

  Chelan stared at the ceiling and then looked at Braedon. “And you—what was your part in this?”

  Lethiason interrupted. “He is absolved of any guilt, my Lady. After Korba liberated the South, most of them aligned with him. Men like Braedon provided information and communication links. But they were never involved in any part of the overthrows.”

  Chelan studied Braedon skeptically. “So, is that why you were in the caverns?”

  Braedon straightened. “No, my Lady. I genuinely do ongoing seismic work there.” His soft eyes melded with hers. “Korba and Lethiason found out about my intimate knowledge of the caverns. They asked me long ago to remain there in case you retreated to them. My presence was legitimate and, therefore, not suspect. I was to care for you if you came, which you did.”

  Chelan continued to stare at him, almost forgetting Lethiason’s presence. “You were planted there?” she asked in astonishment. “And what of our developing relationship?”

  Braedon’s eyes warmed. “It was and is real, my Lady.”

  “And your promise?”

  “It stands. Korba makes no demands of either of us. If you still wish a life with me in the caverns or in the South, he has granted it. If it is what you truly desire, I would be more than happy to be a part of your life.”

  Chelan let her shoulders sag. Then she looked back at Lethiason. “Long ago, you pushed me to Talon. You said it was for the best. Why?”

  Lethiason rubbed at his jaw. “For many reasons. When Talon began eradicating ROPE, that coup actually played into our hands through you. Your deep and abiding love for Korba, a love that transcended all from the moment the two of you met so long ago, was the key. Korba knew that if you were isolated, left alone, you would grieve endlessly for him. And he did not want that. He was also aware that, like himself, Talon would fall in love with you. For your well-being, Korba wanted that relationship encouraged. Talon had the power to care for you as Korba wanted you to be cared for. Talon also had the power to protect you completely. Korba did not want you to fall into the hands of ROPE, nor did he want you in the general population on Iceanea or in the caverns, and so my job was to bind you to Talon.”

  Chelan’s eyes darted between the two men, the dawning of awareness hitting her. “I know intellectually that I should have fought Talon tooth and nail until he killed me with his bare hands because of what he did to my son, yet for some reason, a reason I could never hope to explain, that chapter of my life seems diluted, the trauma blunted. I have always meant to ask Lakit about the situation, but maybe I will ask the two of you.”

  The two men glanced at one another. Lethiason cleared his throat. “Like I said, my main job was to push you to accept Talon, which you would have never been able to do because of what happened to your son.” He hesitated and shifted nervously. “Lakit was instructed to administer a drug to you to deaden your emotions pertaining to the whole ordeal.”

  “What the hell!” Chelan cried.

  Lethiason nodded. “It is an old drug formulated long ago by the Telesians to address post traumatic stress brought on by war. Our warriors are now bred to withstand the emotional rigor of the battlefield, but in the beginning, the drug was of great value. If administered soon after the trauma, it partially obliterates any newly established cerebral pathways that would reinforce the harrowing event. We no longer require it, but ROPE has been using it for decades.”

  Chelan sighed. “So, it muted all my emotional responses enough that the death of my son was no longer a factor in my decision-making process when it came to Talon?
”

  Lethiason nodded apologetically. “Correct, my Lady—a drastic, but necessary, intervention.”

  Chelan looked away. “The day I stabbed him—If I had been… unmedicated… I would have killed him?”

  Lethiason nodded again but remained silent. Chelan stared at him, her trained eye catching a tremor he so desperately tried to conceal. Her eyes narrowed. “And what else? I suspect there was much more to this plan than just my care and overall well-being.”

  Lethiason faltered, reticent to divulge any more. But he knew he had to be forthcoming. “Korba knew that you were the only person who could effectively distract Talon long enough for us to launch the final attack.”

  Chelan jumped to her feet. “My god! You deliberately planned the security conversion on our anniversary! Korba knew I would have wanted to celebrate it because he knew of my Earth ways. And you knew I would detain Talon throughout the night. You…” Then she clutched at her chest.

  Braedon began to stand, disturbed by the terror that rippled over her features. Then he watched helplessly as she suddenly bolted for her chambers. Both men followed, and there she stood, staring at Talon’s urn.

  She wavered back and forth. “I killed him…”

  Braedon rushed in and grabbed her. “No, my Lady.”

  “Yes!” she cried. “He told me he was worried about the conversion, that he felt he had to be there. I warned him about Lethiason, but we had no evidence. In the beginning, I pushed him to leave the overview of the conversion to his officers, but he resisted. But he also knew how much I wanted our anniversary. I killed him!”

  Lethiason dropped to one knee in front of her. “No, my Lady. You simply took him off the front lines. We had planned to attack during the conversion no matter what. The only way we could hit Iceanea effectively was while its shielding was down. The Telesian ambassador was also aligned with us. Regardless of everything, we would have won. But without Talon’s military genius applied defensively, uh, well, you simply made it a little easier.”

  But Chelan was inconsolable. “Nooo…” she sobbed. “I actually helped you kill a man. I aided in yet another bloodbath!”