TICEES (53 page)

Ticees was just about to calm down when another thought ripped through him. She was so small and she’d been so tight … god, she was so divinely tight. He shook his head, clearing the sordid visions that burst unbidden into his thoughts. He growled at himself and forced his mind to work for him. He had watched as he had taken her, and he had detected no blood visually or by scent. She was undoubtedly sore, as no woman, Iceanean or otherwise, took him in his entirety unscathed. But even if he had split her he knew she would not go to Stose, especially for that.

Gathering his wits about him, he began to think methodically. She was either with someone familiar, or she was hiding. His instincts told him it was the latter. She would be too afraid of discovery to chance being in anyone’s company.

He retraced his steps and scoured every corner, every nook, every cranny. He ransacked the workout area and combed through the Command Center, but still she eluded him, and he was running out of options. Returning to his main quarters, he pulled up scanners for the gardens, but everything there was routine, with no sign of her.

His last hope was Salizar, and he barged into the man’s office, but he had not seen Chelan since the previous day, and Ticees’ body was becoming shot through with ever-increasing degrees of alarm.

He rushed back to Korba’s chambers and began a desperate search for clues. The Imperial uniform he had given her was still there, so she could not have left the Palace grounds even if that were remotely possible. But her shroud was gone, and that was indeed perplexing. If she was attempting to infiltrate the Palace staff, what would she hope to gain by that? It would not be long before her identity was discovered and her cover blown.

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized every detail of the room, and then he noticed the spilt pill bottle on the table. He snatched it up. The pills were all gone, and his stomach turned. She was in pain, and his need to find her escalated. He returned to the scanners, every muscle in his body clenched as he called up the medical center, seeking out Stose. The doctor was there, hunched over a computer, but still no sign of Chelan.

Ticees was beginning to feel ill; upheaval over losing her and guilt over his role in it raked deep gashes within him. Immediately, he began flying through the scanners of the surrounding corridors and rooms, but she was nowhere. It was as if she had vanished.

Ticees stopped, his guts in a knot, his mind stymied. He had to find her, if not for her sake, definitely for his own. If she remembered anything after he had administered the Letting drug, she was a ticking time bomb. His chest constricted, but there was no other alternative open to him. He hit the main security alert.

Instantaneously, the entire Imperial fortress was thrown into distress. Thousands of guards and warriors automatically sealed the vast Palace tight, and Ticees’ chambers were immediately filled with officers awaiting their orders.

Ticees addressed the anxious men gathered before him. “It’s Korba’s mate, the Lady Chelan. She’s missing.”

“For how long, my Lord?” asked one.

Ticees winced. “I don’t know. I’ve been absent. It could have been since last night, but it is more likely that she disappeared this morning.”

“What was—”

“Just find her!” bellowed Ticees, interrupting his officer. “Turn this place upside down. I want her back here before the storm hits.”

The room instantly emptied, and Ticees crumpled into his chair. “Oh god, Chelan. Where are you?”

Time dragged on slowly, and one by one the reports began trickling in as each sector was thoroughly searched and sealed. But everything was negative. Ticees watched the information cascade over his console, and with each report, his disquietude deepened.

Finally the storm was upon the Palace, and Ticees’ chief security officer entered his chambers. “My Lord, the entire area was been scrupulously checked and rechecked. She is not within the confines of the grounds or the Palace.”

Ticees remained seated as he stared at the floor. He wished he could use sensors over the Palace, but the fortress walls had been developed to thwart such intrusion. He looked up at his officer as he shook his head wearily. She could not have simply melted into oblivion. “Alternatives?” he asked in a whisper.

The officer shuffled uneasily. “She could have left on a transport, but with security, that is highly unlikely.”

Ticees barely reacted. “How long before the heart of the storm passes?”

“One hour, my Lord.”

Ticees nodded. “I want a complete list of all the transports in and out of here since last night. I want the names of all the personnel attending the loadings, the dockings, and all the passengers in and out. I want inventories of the goods moved, and I want the names of all the security personnel. I want all the security images from all the flight decks for that time period, and I want all that information at my disposal here by the time the storm passes.”

“Yes, my Lord,” responded the officer, cringing at the magnitude of his task.

Ticees remained unmoving for the next hour as the storm raged overhead. Finally, all the reports came up on his console, and he turned to it. Four of his top officers joined him, and they began to glean through the information, the grueling task progressing painfully slowly.

Then one of the men pointed. “There! There’s a discrepancy in the load weight on the transport to Satanya. Thirty-two people were to board …” The man typed away, calling up information from the docking platform at Satanya. “And thirty-three people disembarked.”

The man continued to work as Ticees sat back in silence. “The load difference indicates that the extra person was of small stature.” The officer looked at Ticees. “It had to be her, my Lord.”

Ticees did not speak. Finally, he signaled to the men, and they left him.

The moment they were gone, Ticees called up security data on all connecting corridors, focusing on the connections used most often by the Warlords. Nothing. Ticees then did a security check on his own personal access tunnels. “Shit!” There it was. The codes had been used just before the shuttle left. She had managed to catalogue and remember his every move, using the information against him at this critical juncture.

He noted the timing of the codes’ use and called up the security footage that coincided with it. There she was. He watched as she came to each intersection and entered the codes flawlessly. And when she finally stepped onto the flight deck, there was his security detail, distracted by the chaos produced by the herculean storm about to hit.
Fuck!
Could her timing have been any better?

Ticees sprang to his feet, grabbing a large piece of equipment and throwing it with explosive force clear across the Command Center. He roared in frustration until his breath left him and his chest ached. Then he slumped into his chair and let his head fall back. She had outmaneuvered him. By all the gods he had ever heard of, the little alien had outdone him. No wonder Korba, Dar, and Fremma worshiped her. When she put her mind to it, there was absolutely nothing she couldn’t do, and his heart gave him a telltale ache. If only.

Rousing himself from his raging thoughts, he stepped into action. He immediately mobilized a huge contingency of fighters and transports to search Satanya and the surrounding area. He also put out immediate bulletins to the forces in the surrounding cities, and within minutes, the entire countryside was being turned upside down.

Ticees sat back. He could only wait, and the hours passed painfully slowly with no results. Finally he was forced to put out a planet-wide alert, and the entire Empire was thrown into action.

Ticees was on the verge of imploding as too many emotions swirled into a destructive vortex of uncertainty. He was well aware of her brilliance, as she had aptly displayed it to him many times, but never in all his years as Emperor had all his forces been so effectively thwarted, and he was thunderstruck. His eyes remained fixed on the incoming data as he slouched in his chair, his emotions completely wrung out.

Suddenly, Ticees was startled to his feet as his door crashed open and Toran flew in.

“What in hell has happened?” raged the Warlord. “What has happened to Chelan?”

Ticees’s face drained. He felt as though he was going to lose control, and he prudently resumed his seat. He had to keep it together, he had to remain calm, and if his mistake was going to remain hidden, he had to become a master of deception. Though he genuinely grieved for Chelan and wanted the gentle woman back by his side, his fear of discovery prevailed.

Toran sat down heavily across from him. “How can an entire galactic Empire lose one little alien?” he whispered, his eyes pleading with Ticees.

Ticees shook his head, his depression mounting. He started to speak, but they were interrupted as a wide-eyed warrior ran through the doors, not even bothering to announce himself. “Sire!” he shouted. “The leader of the final reconnaissance that you ordered out said he scanned an alien life form in the Dead Zone just before the storm hit. He picked up few details other than the location, as they had to bug out.”

Ticees swiveled in his chair and called up a 3-D grid of the Dead Zone, and then beckoned to the warrior. “What were the coordinates?”

Toran leaned forward and watched as the man entered the information and a small dot appeared and marked the last-seen location of the life form.

Ticees called up the information on the suspect transport and noted its exact point of docking and its time of arrival. He forced his mind to work as though he himself sought escape within the Dead Zone, and he drew a mental line from the transport dock to the easterly edge of Satanya. He called up the information from the flybys and then sucked in a deep breath. If it had been her, she’d had lots of time to make it to the edge of the city before the first set of fighters traversed the area.

Ticees swallowed hard as he entered all the parameters into the computer, including a brisk walking speed. The computer instantly gave him the feedback he was looking for. It would have taken her approximately five hours to reach the point where the life form had been detected, and that time coincided exactly with the final mission.

Ticees sat back. “Are you sure that the being was alien?” he asked numbly.

The warrior flinched. “Yes, my Lord. Definitely.” He glanced uneasily at Toran and then looked back at Ticees. “The flight leader said at the time that he thought it was an adolescent that had wandered out, for the sensors indicated that it was small … and female.”

Ticees felt as though the wind had been knocked from him, and he sagged forward in anguish and disbelief.

Toran was equally affected, his guts turning and his thoughts momentarily scattering.

The young warrior stepped back, his pale face betraying his shock at the men’s reaction.

Toran rose and stepped up to Ticees. He placed a hand on the Emperor’s shoulder, the gesture serving to stabilize both of them. Then he signaled for the warrior to leave. Toran took a brief moment to calm himself, and then the Warlord’s mind went to work. He moved quickly to the console. “Roden!” he yelled over the intercom.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Get RIBUS 6 off the ground and into a low-altitude orbit over the Dead Zone. Have her sensors set for deep penetration. You’re looking for a small alien body last seen in the area of the coordinates I will give you. Track the trajectory of the storm and concentrate the search in that area.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Toran looked at Ticees, but the man was still and unresponsive. Toran hit another button. “Give me a report from Satanya.”

“No sign of her, my Lord. All areas secure.”

Toran looked down at the floor. “Damn,” he mumbled. Toran stood very still as he thought. Then he hit another switch.

“Yes, Sire.”

“This is Commander Toran. Have my personal fighter prepared, and I want a contingency of the Empire’s best searchers assembled on the flight deck and ready to go when I get there.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Toran looked down at Ticees for a moment, but there was nothing he could do for him. He had so many questions, but now was not the time to ask them, for time was critically short. He ran from the room.

*****

The great battleship remained over the area throughout the rest of the day and into the night. The next morning, the ship made one final sweep of the vast planet, its sensors set for aliens. But all those who were authorized to be on the planet were accounted for, and Toran conceded defeat.

He returned to Ticees’ chambers later that afternoon and found the Emperor still slumped in his chair. He sat down beside him.

Toran hung his head as he sorted through his own thoughts and feelings. He had not known the little alien long, but she had snagged a piece of his heart, and he, too, mourned her loss. It was now certain that it had been Chelan in the Dead Zone, and the fact that RIBUS 6’s sensors could not detect her body indicated that she was buried at a great depth.

Toran took in a deep breath, and a pit formed in his stomach. He looked over at Ticees. “I have no words, my Lord. I don’t understand any of this. I can’t fathom how or why this has occurred.”

Ticees continued to stare into oblivion, his eyes clouded. Toran swallowed hard. “You’ll have to send word to Korba,” he uttered quietly.

Ticees blinked and then nodded.

Toran watched him carefully. “I’ll send Roden out right away to help Tarn. I know that Korba will want to come back,” Toran hesitated. “He can be here within the week.”

Ticees nodded again.

Toran hung his head and clenched his hands together. He would stay here until Korba’s arrival and then he would assume the command of RIBUS 7, for he knew that Korba would be in no shape to command after he received the news.

Ticees finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “Could you please send the message? I need some rest.” He stood slowly and left the Command Center.

Toran’s throat constricted as he thought of the grief that was about to hit his unsuspecting friend. He stood and cleared the security channels. He tried to pick his words carefully, but he realized that there was no pleasant way to convey this news, and he simply sent the message.