TICEES (81 page)

Chelan settled down on him, his hands caressing over her hips, his fingers finding where their bodies intersected. Tenderly he massaged her most intimate flesh, his additional caress causing her to contract with ecstasy. His tongue ran up her neck as he tasted her, his lips taking her ear. His masterful fingers worked around his engorgement to his final goal, and just as he squeezed her swollen clit, he growled. “Come for me, pretty woman,” and his teeth took her neck.

Chelan couldn’t have stopped herself if she had wanted to. She cried out, her muscles clenching about him, his fingers swirling over her, his penis pulsing within her. Wave upon wave built within her, sensations so powerfully overtaking her that she felt as though she would faint. As she came again and again, she couldn’t believe that she could experience so much pleasure even though he remained unmoving within her depths. Only the blood pounding through his member resounded through her pelvis, the combination of sensations with his fingers’ rhythm giving her a peak so intense she became mortally weak. Then she sagged into his chest, panting for air. She was where she wished to be, embraced by him, protected by him, filled by him. He was everything.

His fingers left her moist depths and trailed kisses of sensual touch up and down her sinuous back, over her shoulders, around her neck, and down her arms. His hands brushed through her hair, the silk cascading over her soft skin, pooling behind her like strands of melted honey. Her sexual warmth surrounding him was sheer perfection, her breasts upon his chest, divine. If there was a heaven, he had arrived.

Finally, he urged her up from him as he whispered a kiss upon her lips. He slipped from her body and then stood, cradling her easily in his arms. He entered his chambers, and there, he laid her across his bed and stripped away his uniform. He knelt on the floor before her. He took her foot and kissed each toe, his strong fingers massaging her. His tongue trailed kisses up her calves, her knees, her inner thighs. He left no part of her flesh unattended, her soft moans to his touch causing his heart to burst. He was totally, helplessly in love.

When he thought he could bear no more, he parted her legs wide and looked at her delicious folds. He spread her feminine lips gently, and his body quivered as his tongue stroked the length of her. He closed his eyes, her taste, her softness, her scent, everything a lethal combination intoxicating him as she had always done. He wanted to linger forever. And when she began to writhe to his touch, he was in ecstasy. Her skin was velvet, her moisture the milk of gods, and he wanted all she had to offer and all that he could take.

He explored her fully as she strained to be filled once again. His fingers parted her labia wide, exposing her swollen nodule to him, and he began to suckle her. She shuddered. He entered a finger into her heated depths and then withdrew. Chelan arched, her eyes wide. He entered two fingers deep, touching, stroking, petting. His tongue swirled over her, around her, and in her.

She whimpered as she looked at the ceiling. There was no other like him. No one aroused her like he did, no one touched her like he did, and no one could fill her like he could. “Oh god, please,” she cried. “Please come inside me,” and she reached for him.

Korba relinquished himself to her wishes, unable to deny her or himself of their most intimate coupling. He rose up, positioning himself at her opening, and she looked to him, her full breasts heaving, her eyes imploring. Her fists knotted in the sheets. “I love you so much,” she gasped, and he slipped into her milky tightness.

Once again he couldn’t believe the sensations that coursed through his loins, right up his body and into his heart. He watched his thick organ penetrate her as she coated him with the nectar of her love, and his muscles quivered.

Chelan watched her Warlord as he took dominion over her, and he was perfect. He was all sculpted muscle and cat-like sinew. He was bronzed power and masculine heat. He was nearly 300 pounds of raw sex tempered by true love and tenderness. And he was all hers.

She reached for him, grabbing his blue-black mane and drawing him to her. He leaned forward over her, pressing part of his weight into her as he knew she liked so much. Her hands surged through his hair, and she kissed him passionately, her legs surrounding his waist, offering herself in her entirety.

Korba stayed within her a long time, moving slowly so as not to damage her, and she in turn responded to his gentleness by allowing his possession of her innermost recesses indefinitely. Their fingers entwined in rapture, and their moist bodies melded, their souls transcending. After a long and beautiful time, he brought them both to a feverish peak, and they further bonded in the throes of mutual orgasm.

When both their tremors receded, Korba slipped out of her depths and rolled from her moist body, but only temporarily. He moved up the bed and pulled her up with him, settling her over him. He realized that she was exhausted, but for now, he would not allow her to sleep. That she would need to do as evening descended upon RIBUS 7.

And as the darkness of night fell on Iceanea, so would his unexpectedly violent and vengeful wrath. This morning, his potent body in an act of love had gently and tenderly washed over Chelan. But come night he would be transformed into a mighty angel of death. In an act born of rage, his powerful body would wash over Iceanea, eradicating it of all that had hurt his pure and innocent alien woman. Tomorrow’s light would bring with it a new day, and if he were successful, it would bring with it a new Empire.

Korba kept Chelan occupied for the rest of the day, and when evening came she was ready to drop from exhaustion. Korba laid her down and sat with her for no more than a minute before she receded into a deep sleep. Korba kissed her forehead gently and prayed that RIBUS 7 still existed when she awoke in the morning. He left for the Command Center.

Over the weeks he had gradually added to the ship’s crew, ostensibly for training purposes, and now she was almost two million strong. Finally, Korba was ready to start the weeding process.

He quickly checked the homeward progress of RIBUS 8, the only true threat to the success of his plans. Then he ordered Fremma and Tarn to the Command Center. Korba drew a deep breath and waited patiently. The two men arrived and greeted Korba warmly. Korba nodded to them and then entered a series of security codes that would summon all his top officers to him.

As the two men stood quietly awaiting their orders, Fremma glanced toward Korba’s quarters, uneasy about Chelan’s presence with Tarn around, but Korba seemed unaffected.

Tarn was the first to speak. “The refit is complete, and the weapons testing has been both flawless and impressive, my Lord. I must admit that the Telesians have outdone themselves this time. This ship will go down in history as the most elite fighting machine the galaxy has ever known.”

Korba smiled. “Yes, she shall indeed go down in history.”

Tarn smiled back. “So, where is our exalted Emperor sending us next?”

Korba shrugged casually. “I’m not sure yet, my good man. I have not received any orders as of this moment.

Fremma had remained silent, watching his Commander carefully. There was a quiet reserve or restraint surrounding the Warlord, and Fremma flinched. Acting on his intuition, he confronted Korba directly. “What’s happening?” he asked cautiously.

But Korba did not answer, and at the same instant the Command Center doors opened and in streamed forty-five of his highest-ranking officers, all of them well known to the three men in front of them. Fremma felt a shiver go up his spine. This was not a good sign, and he looked back to Korba, noticing for the first time the proliferation of well-concealed weapons beneath the Warlord’s shroud. Fremma closed his eyes. Another bomb was about to hit, but this one would boggle the mind and shake the soul. Instantly, he knew where it would be directed, or more accurately, at whom it was directed.

The officers stood silently at attention as Korba signaled to them in battle language. He separated out nine of them by name and asked them to wait across the hall in Fremma’s quarters. The nine men nodded obediently and left.

Tarn was becoming concerned, and he stared directly at Korba. The Warlord’s eyes were simmering with a hot blue flame, and Tarn’s throat suddenly dried.

Korba looked back at the two of them. He studied them closely, reading their every thought. Neither man spoke, but intuitively they nodded their allegiance, and Korba’s eyes ignited.

The Warlord turned to his officers and, finally, he spoke. His voice was low and ominous, and they had to strain to hear. “Tonight,” he began slowly, “you will embark on the most important mission of your life. Its success or failure rides on your shoulders. I know you all personally, and we have worked together flawlessly for decades. As a result, I know your loyalties intimately. And it is because of this knowledge that you stand before me now and hear my words.”

Korba paused as he looked at each man individually. “The mission you lead tonight is directed at Iceanea and against the Lord God Emperor himself.” Korba stopped as he watched a stunned silence sweep over his men.

Fremma felt his guts turn. So, it was finally about to happen, the great Warlord’s wrath unleashed in the name of revenge for Chelan’s suffering. Fremma smiled. Ticees would finally be brought to his knees, rendered prostrate and savaged as he had done to Korba’s mate–his Lady. It was just, it was appropriate, and in Fremma’s mind, it was long overdue.

Korba’s eyes bit into his officers as he looked for signs of defiance or insurrection, but he detected nothing. “Your first mission before I issue further orders will occur right here and now. The nine men that I separated out are our friends, our fellow strategists, and fine officers. I know them all well and personally. They are loyal to me, and they have followed my words and commands without question throughout my career. But their true allegiance is to the Emperor, and they therefore forfeit their lives for this mission. I hereby look for volunteers to carry out their executions,” and Korba watched them closely, his words meant to weed out the uncertain. But the Warlord smiled to himself as thirty-six hands rose.

Korba selected three men. “They are heavily armed. Be careful. Kill them swiftly and return here immediately.”

The men nodded and left the Command Center promptly. Korba turned to Fremma and Tarn. “I do not have similar fates in store for the two of you. But if you have any second thoughts, air them now, and you will simply be removed from RIBUS 7.”

Both men remained very still, and then they both nodded simultaneously. Tarn cleared his throat. “May I ask what has brought you to this decision, my Lord?”

Korba nodded to him. “It is simply time, my friend. We have served under the Ticeenean regime long enough. The Empire is Iceanean, and it is time it was run by Iceaneans. Along with Ticees’ removal will come a restructuring of the Breeding program, a restructuring that is long overdue. Also, with the new Empire will come the swift eradication of ROPE. There will be no more costly delays in ridding the galaxy of their parasitic predation. And in the end, all of Iceanea will be united, the Southern people no longer cast into the darkness of their own planet. Ticees had claimed to unite the galaxy while his own world suffers injustice and terrible rifts. The people of the South are our people, too, and they will be treated as such.”

Korba paused, and his lip quirked. “Those are my reasons, but the catalyst to my decision lies in my chambers.”

Tarn’s eyes opened wide in puzzlement, and Korba nodded his permission. Tarn glanced at Fremma and then entered Korba’s chambers silently. A moment later he returned, his shock apparent. He began to speak, but Korba interrupted him. “Later,” he said, and Tarn fell silent.

The Command doors opened and the three officers returned. One of the men stepped forward. “They are dead, my Lord. We await your further orders.”

Korba nodded. “This will now be repeated down and throughout the ranks.” Korba pressed a button, and the entire wall of screens jumped to life. “You will find your names here and the officers under you. The men that are highlighted are to be eliminated, in my view. If any of you see any discrepancy between my choices and what would be yours, speak up.”

There was silence as the officers scanned the lists, but none of them spoke. “Very well,” whispered Korba. “In each of your personal Command Centers I have transferred identical lists that cover the command chain right down to the lowest-ranking warriors. You will follow the procedures you have just seen here and, after the executions, you will say nothing to the remaining men of the mission. You will simply direct them to the main assembly hall. You will oversee each level of gleaning, and when all is complete, you will also go to the main hall. If there are any problems, you will report to Tarn on the Bridge or Fremma at his personal Command Center. All progress reports will be relayed to me promptly and directly. You have exactly one hour,” he commanded sternly. “So work fast and work efficiently. All the executions must occur simultaneously to avoid chaos.”