TICEES (75 page)

Korba reeled around. “What happened to the Guild members?”

Shan shrugged. “She doesn’t know, but I would assume that Ticees had them executed. After all, they witnessed an Overlord’s Letted mate being raped by the Emperor himself.”

Korba raised his head up, his eyes ablaze, and he took a deep breath. “And then what?”

Shan straightened. “Since she did not know if he had succeeded or not, she assumed the worst. She had been rendered unconscious at some point, and she awoke in Ticees’ bed, battered and bruised. He was not there when she awoke, so she ran back to your suite, but he had taken away the uterine contractors that she used for her menses so that she could not force an abortion. She decided that if you returned to find her pregnant with Ticees’ child, you would consider the Let challenged, and you would die trying to kill him. She also knew that if by some remote chance you let the situation drop, it would only be a matter of time before she broke down and told you about the rape. Either way, you would challenge, and you would be killed trying to kill the Emperor. So she decided to take her own life. She left that morning, following the coded private security tunnels to the main transport area. She went to Satanya, and from there she simply walked out into the Dead Zone, planning her departure in between flybys so that she would not be detected. She assumed that the cold would take her first, and failing that, she would be shot by a patrol. Either way, she would be dead, and her secret would die with her so that you would live.” Shan hesitated and lowered his voice. “But she had not anticipated the storm, and by some fluke, it deposited her beaten and broken body into the cavern.”

Korba turned away, the onslaught of powerful emotions almost too much for him to bear. He arched back and roared, his pain and his grief nearly insurmountable. Then he sank to his knees as his chest heaved.

Dar and Shan could only look on helplessly, both feeling exactly the same smothering cascade of emotional debris, the flood of pain almost too deep and thick to navigate.

Korba slumped forward, holding his head, willing himself to think, to clear the stifling tide of rage that was crushing him. If ever there was a time he needed to get his act together and behave like the Overlord he was, it was now. He remained where he was, his tremors ceasing, his thoughts coalescing. He took a deep breath. “Is she well?” he finally asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yes, my Lord. When I left she was, except for loneliness. But she accepted that willingly for you.”

It was Dar’s turned for stunned silence, and he collapsed into his chair, biting into his clenched fist.

Korba rose to his feet, with his back still to them. “Could you find her, Shan?” he asked, his voice now but a whisper.

Shan hesitated. “Yes, my Lord.”

Korba nodded. “You’re off the Vixen mission, Shan.”

Shan jumped to his feet. “Oh, please no, my Lord.”

Korba turned to him, but Shan spoke before he could. “I will take you to her, but I know now that I cannot bear a life without her, and she is your mate, Sire. Please don’t take me off the mission.”

Korba shook his head. “I do not know what her state of mind is. I may need you for a time while she sorts through her emotions. She has been in total isolation for the better part of four of her years.” Korba stepped up to Shan, his eyes warming and his voice lowering. “It may be that after all this time, my friend, she will choose to remain with you, and I will respect that. Never underestimate our pretty woman, Shan.”

Shan looked anxiously at Korba but realized that he had no choice but to comply.

Korba pushed Shan back down into his chair and then sat himself down. Korba remained still for a moment as he put his great mind to work. He was not the Empire’s most powerful Warlord for nothing. His ability to sort through any catastrophe while remaining calm and cool was his deadly trademark, and now he would put his mind to work like never before. He looked over at Dar. “And now we plan,” he hissed. “Everything is undercover. Nothing is to be reveled to Ticees or his men. I will send a message to Toran saying that we convinced Shan to withdraw and that he has been replaced. No more will be said. Tomorrow morning I will lead the first flyby under Shan’s guidance.”

Dar sat up. “The main Command Center will pick up your delay in the Dead Zone.”

Korba shook his head. “Not if you distract the men on the main scanners long enough for us to recover her. Plan for a long time in case she is injured.”

Dar nodded. “No problem. Most of the men in the Center tomorrow are my own. I will think of something even if I have to blow the place up.”

Korba nodded and then paused momentarily. “I want Stose with us, and when we have her I’ll take her directly back to RIBUS 7. You’ll have to stall Ticees if he comes lurking around. You’ll also have to keep all eyes off the orbital scanners when I leave the surface, but that will only be momentary. We will also need replacement ships to return to the Palace with the reconnaissance contingency from a remote location, manned by our people. Messages pertaining to that will have to be carefully coded.”

Dar nodded, and Korba stood and looked at Shan. He walked over to him and placed his hand on the young warrior’s shoulder. “You have done everything right, my friend. I understand your loyalty to Chelan, and I respect the strength it took to tell us about her. You are a fine man, Shan.”

“Thank you, Sire,” he whispered, but he felt far from fine, and he knew it would be a long, sleepless night.

*****

The three men spent the time together refining their plans and talking of Chelan. Korba was afraid to be left alone, knowing full well that he would not be responsible for any actions he levied against Ticees if he saw the man. But through it all, Korba felt a twofold warmth surround him as the evening approached. Chelan was alive, and that was what was most important. But almost as satisfying as that was Shan’s testimonial, no matter how grisly and brutal. Korba had told Ticees that he knew the Emperor was responsible for her death, and no matter how long it took, one way or another, he was going to find the evidence necessary to condemn him. Korba smiled. He now had that evidence clasped firmly in his ebony talons.

The long Iceanean day dragged on for Chelan, and for every minute that passed, her physical agony deepened just that much more. As evening arrived, the contractions were powerful, and she was exhausted. She could feel them begin, rapidly reaching a peak that sent severe pains coursing through her back and radiating down her thighs. And each time one of them receded, she would collapse back into the furs, gasping for air. Then, from sheer lassitude, she would begin to enter a light sleep, only to be rudely awoken as the next contraction seized her.

Chelan began to cry as the lonely night descended upon her. She continued to rub her distended belly in a futile effort to relieve her pain. As the dark hours progressed, so did her depression and her excruciating discomfort. She was disoriented from lack of sleep and food, and she was now too weak to rise from the furs. She could only lie deathly still between increasingly frequent bouts of torment.

As the hours ticked by, Chelan could no longer even whimper. Her mind was numb, and all she could think about was Shan. If he were here, he would have known what to do. He could have helped. She was well aware that she was in trouble, and to make matters worse, she could no longer feel the baby moving.

*****

Slowly, the morning light began to filter down on her weakened body and soul, and Chelan opened her eyes. She was not feeling at all well, and she’d felt no movement from within her for a long time. She wanted to drink, but she was too drained to move, and so she simply waited for the next contraction to take her. As mid-morning approached, Chelan knew she had been in labor for a complete Iceanean day, thirty-two Earth hours, and though she knew little about childbirth, she knew that was too long.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of warm fluid escape from her, and she was hit with a violent contraction. Chelan doubled up, the force of the pain knocking her wind from her. She began to pant to catch her breath, and then she was overtaken with an undeniable urge to push.

Chelan gathered her wits about her as the pain receded. Suddenly, she experienced what could only be described as a rejuvenation. As the next contraction began, she drew her chin to her chest and she pushed as hard as she could. She strained for as long as she dared, and then she fought for oxygen, her body sweating profusely.

Chelan pushed herself up and propped herself with bundled furs. Soon, the next powerful contraction came, and Chelan instinctively bore down, pushing hard throughout the strong muscular spasm.

But though the morning light was strengthening, Chelan was weakening, and as each contraction subsided, so did her ability to continue on. But the contractions were unrelenting, and Chelan continued to attempt to birth Shan’s child with everything she had left in her.

Then, finally, she pushed and felt a burn between her legs. Chelan collapsed back and smiled weakly. “It’s coming,” she whimpered. “It’s coming.”

The next contraction seized her, and she pushed with all her strength. She screamed as her flesh tore, and she crashed back into the pelts, writhing. Chelan looked up at the cavern ceiling through her tears, her chest heaving. She did not know what was worse, the cramps or the tearing, but she did not have long to think about it as she was forced to push again. This time she pushed up on her hands and hunched over, using her body to bear down until the burning became intolerable. Then she fell back and cried. She just wanted all the pain to stop.

The next contraction gripped her, and she pushed as hard as she could, when suddenly the burning quit. Chelan collapsed back for a moment as she caught her breath. Her world spun and she grabbed her head, trying to restore her stasis. When she was finally able, she used the last of her strength to push herself up and to look down between her legs. She started to smile, but then her heart stopped. Her baby was still, his flesh the color of death. She reached for him, her eyes blurring with renewed tears.

Chelan sucked in several deep breaths, sobbing as she picked up the perfectly formed infant boy and pressed him to her breasts. She fell back into the furs, knowing that he had long since been dead, the birth too slow, her body too small.

But she was too spent and too stunned to grieve, and for a time all she could do was clutch the baby to her as she stared up at the cavern’s ceiling. She rested for a bit and then finally blinked back to reality. She reached for Shan’s knife and cut the cord close to the infant’s body. Then she rolled to her side, laying the baby in her blankets. She cleansed the perfect little body free of all her blood and fluids and then wrapped him in a fresh white fur, settling him next to her. She stared at him as time passed dreadfully slowly, wishing with all her heart that he would draw the breath of life, but it was not to be.

Finally, she furrowed her brow and tried to think. She had to do something with the afterbirth, yet she had not felt any sensations indicating it had been expelled. Chelan pushed up on shaking arms, and her world went temporarily black. She swooned and hunched forward, clutching at her aching head. Taking in several deep breaths, she looked down at the blood-stained fur. She reached for the cord and pulled gently, the afterbirth leaving her easily, but with it came a brilliant stream of red blood. Chelan held very still as her mind sorted through a fog of confusion and delirium. She watched the blood soak the fur and then make its way down the cavern floor and into the warm pool, swirling into a dissipating cloud of pink.

Chelan crumpled back down into the furs and clutched at her distended abdomen. “I’m hemorrhaging,” she whispered to the lonely cavern. Chelan ran her hands through her tangled and sweat-soaked hair, and she managed a weak smile. How ironic. Just when her life was to begin, she would die trying to bring forth life itself.

She had no idea how to stop the hemorrhage, as she knew nothing of uterine massages. Her long labor had left her womb exhausted, unable to contract down and close off the open blood vessels that had fueled her placenta and, ultimately, the baby.

Chelan knew that it was just a matter of time before she died from blood loss, and she was suddenly entrenched in a grief so deep she was sure it would kill her first. She rolled to her side and clutched her baby to her swollen breasts. For the first time, she truly wished she had told Shan about the baby. He could have had a son.

Chelan brushed back the baby’s black hair and sniffed away her tears. He was so perfect, his features so beautifully formed. Then she shivered, her weakened body assaulted by the cold. She nestled down into the furs further and hugged the baby close. Her last task was to cover both of them with the large blanket, and then she kissed him good-bye. The end would come soon, and she took solace in the fact that it would be painless.

In her mind, she bid farewell to all those she had known, and especially to Shan. She wanted him to know that she would take care of his son as she joined the infant boy in oblivion, and Chelan closed her eyes, a serenity overtaking her as she passed into unconsciousness.