CALLEY (RIBUS 7 Book 3) (12 page)

*****

Soon, months turned into days, and with the dwindling time, Chelan was transformed into a bundle of nerves. Today was no exception. Fremma walked into the morning light of the Command Center to find Chelan pacing back and forth in front of the consoles. “Good morning, my Lady,” he greeted her in English.

Chelan scowled at him. “Good morning,” she replied dryly.

“No, no,” he interjected. “In English.”

Chelan shook her head with frustration.

“Come on,” prodded Fremma, once again in her native tongue. “From now till the end of the trip, while we are alone, we will converse in English only. You have to lose that damnable Iceanean inflection.”

Chelan watched him as he settled into the command chair. Finally she complied, paying careful attention to her accent. “It’s been so long, Fremma. It’s more difficult than I ever expected.”

He nodded. “But it is necessary. No one will miss your peculiar sound. And since it is totally foreign, someone may pick up on it, and thus the inexplicable. It could work to your detriment.”

Chelan sat down in the other chair. “No one will pinpoint its source, let alone even think of the possibility of aliens no matter how hard they try.”

Fremma wasn’t so sure. He leaned forward and studied her carefully. “Six days left, Chelan, and you have yet to come up with any explanation as to your absence. Should someone decide to subject you to professional scrutiny, your accent would sink you.”

“Like who?”

“Like your government. Ask the Telesians about your government’s tactics when dealing with aliens.”

“What aliens?”

Fremma smiled wryly. “Your government denies it, but they and the Telesians have clashed in the past, mostly by accident. Your government and others have their ways of extracting information, and none too pleasantly.”

Chelan stood, her agitation taking flight. “I have nothing to do with the government.”

“Not now you don’t. But if your story gets out, you will.”

Chelan resumed her seat. “I can’t work on a story. I’m no good at deception. You know that.”

“Then what do you propose to do?”

“Follow my heart, Fremma. I am not stupid. All will work out well. And my family will keep everything to themselves.”

Fremma sighed. “Chelan, I have a confession to make.” He looked at her, his eyes heavy. “I’m worried sick about you.”

Chelan’s voice softened. “Oh, Fremma, don’t be.”

Fremma reached for her and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed the top of her head and enveloped her within the protective confines of his shroud. “I have control over keeping you safe from external threats, but on your planet, there are too many unknowns. As odd as this may sound, your world is far too hostile. Despite my people’s role in life, our society is so much more stable and controlled. I fear for you in every way. I now understand Korba’s fury over the change in plans.”

Chelan nestled into his chest, his slow and powerful heartbeat soothing her ragged emotions. “I will be fine, Fremma. I have survived my world before.”

Fremma squeezed her tight and closed his eyes. “And look what happened to you when you were so young,” he uttered sorrowfully.

“And look what happened to me at the Emperor’s own hand,” she countered.

The mere mention of her ordeal with Ticees caused Fremma’s emotions to fester. “If anything should happen to you at the hands of your fellow man, my Lady, I will hold myself solely responsible, for I could never forgive myself for any harm that were to befall you.”

Chelan pushed back from him, the burden he carried plainly etched on his features. “No, my gentle warrior, it’s my responsibility alone.”

Fremma looked away. “I guess I am just as afraid as Korba is of your possible loss.”

Chelan shook her head and took his face in her hands. “No less than I fear your loss. But these thoughts will only drag us down. Please, Fremma, all will be fine. And as far as the factions on Lethos II are concerned, I am no longer on Iceanea, having been whisked away to some heavily fortified Iceanean outpost. That’s what is most critical. And remember, on my world, I’m in control.”

Fremma conceded and nodded once. Chelan settled back against his chest. He stroked her long silken hair, its golden brown ends reaching past her firm round bottom. It was time to broach the next issue. “Whelan should check you over sometime soon.”

Chelan felt her stomach knot. In her hasty retreat from Iceanea, leaving Stose behind had been a major oversight. Whelan was the ship’s chief surgeon and Fremma’s personal doctor, but Chelan had no desire to see him. “What for?” she asked grimly.

“I made the request. You should have a thorough checkup before we release you. We want to eliminate all potential risks to you as best we can.”

Chelan rolled her eyes. “You know what I think of doctors.”

Fremma laid his cheek on her head. “I can stay with you if you wish.”

Chelan shook her head. “I will be fine. When?”

“Anytime.”

Chelan reluctantly retreated from the Warlord’s comfort and stood, her dread blooming. “Don’t you have any female doctors on board this damn ship?”

Fremma furrowed his brows. “Actually, I’d never thought of that. We have many.” Suddenly, he was angry at himself for his lack of insight. With the ease his people had with their bodies and exposure, no one ever requested one gender over another except sometimes during birthing. He had been examined numerous times by female doctors and had thought nothing of it. Therefore, it had never entered his mind that Chelan’s discomfort would be further aggravated by male doctors. He looked up apologetically at her. “I wish I had at least thought of Stose in the beginning. I could look down the roster for you in the future, but regardless, for this exam, I still want you to see Whelan. He’s the best.”

Chelan turned toward the door. “It’s okay. I will survive. And I might as well get it over with, so I’ll go now.” Without any more deliberation, she disappeared out into the corridor.

Instantly, the usual contingency of guards snapped to attention and accompanied her to her destination. Chelan signaled to them to remain outside as she entered through the main medical doors. They sealed shut behind her and there she stood, deathly still. She looked around the area, the stark whiteness causing her to shudder. Suddenly, the doors at the opposite end opened, and Chelan jumped.

Whelan entered and stopped just inside the room. He bowed to her. “My Lady. Fremma just messaged me to inform me of your arrival. I am happy to finally meet you.”

Oh bloody good
, Chelan thought to herself, but she remained mute. The man was young and of the usual flawless Iceanean mold. He was muscular, about six-foot-nine. But unlike Stose, he donned the traditional black military uniform, a fact that made her even more uneasy. She looked at the long blue-black hair that framed his handsome face, his bronze skin highlighting his gracious smile.

Whelan took a tentative step toward the young Empress. “I am sorry that I render you ill at ease.”

Chelan tried to paste a smile on her lips. “It is nothing personal, Whelan. I just had a few bad experiences with a doctor back on Earth. I am afraid my phobic reaction has surfaced once again.”

Whelan paused. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Change your profession,” Chelan blurted with a nervous laugh. Then she took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. She studied the large man closely. “Doctor Stose always wears a loose-fitting white jacket and pants. Actually, he is the only man of the Empire I have ever seen in anything save a military uniform.”

Whelan shrugged. “For me, this is more comfortable. Besides, Doctor Stose was not a warrior. Right now my time is taken up with preparations and research, but when we are in battle, I am just as likely to be fighting as caring for the wounded. I dress as the other warriors.” Whelan took another tentative step toward her. “If you would prefer, my Lady, I will change. I will do anything you require to lessen your disquietude.”

Chelan chewed at her lip. She had come to trust Stose unconditionally, and he wore white. The doctor in black shook her, but she tried to banish her fear. Finally she mustered the courage to speak again. “So, what do you know of me?”

Whelan smiled. “Why don’t you accompany me to my office, where we may sit down while we talk? We will both be more comfortable that way.”

Chelan straightened slightly and walked toward him. “Lead the way.”

Whelan turned and showed her into the room Chelan remembered as Stose’s office. There she sat down and waited for the doctor to do the same.

Whelan dragged a chair up close to her and seated himself. “I know that you are Korba’s mate and that you are of Calley. What else I know of you has come from Fremma. He has made me privy to your needs and your fears. I know of your Earth encounter as well as that with Ticees.”

He paused as he peered into her bewitching eyes. “And I know that you are far from comfortable with me both as a doctor and as a man. But your well-being is foremost on our Commander’s mind. And since you are Korba’s mate as well as Fremma’s, you are also one of my main concerns. You will be out of reach for an extended period of time. It would be most unfortunate if you were stricken with something I could have prevented.” Whelan stopped and studied the young woman once more, but her pretty features were now unreadable.

“We have doctors on Calley,” she stated flatly.

Whelan nodded. “I know, my Lady. You are not required to endure my services. I merely offer them. However, I think Fremma will be more insistent on your compliance. Additionally, your Earth medicine is far less advanced. It would be much more prudent to take care of any problem areas here.”

Chelan looked away, allowing her composure to slip a bit. “I am sorry, Whelan. Even after all these years I am staggered by the enormity of my fear of a simple exam. It is something I alone cannot shake.”

“I would never dare to say I understand. But if you wish to talk, I would be honored to listen, to provide any insight I can, and to offer support.”

Chelan smiled with warm appreciation. “Thank you, Whelan. But I suspect there is nothing you could do for me. I have been over my ordeal more times than I can count. I understand where all my fears stem from, but despite my insight and all my logical thought processes, I cannot quell my visceral responses. On Earth, Calley, we have doctors for this sort of thing, and maybe the Empire does too.” She hesitated. “I suppose I should tackle it, but I have coped thus far.”

Whelan looked down at the floor between them. “I will never touch you without your consent, my Lady.” He looked back at her. “I am a professional, and your health is my priority. But whether you permit me to do my job or not is your decision alone. Not even Fremma would force you. You have the control.”

Chelan was beginning to feel embarrassed over her crippling trepidation. But each time she tried to pull herself together and grant him permission to examine her, she felt ill. Though she knew she was free to leave, she felt she could not face Fremma if she refused the exam. She swallowed hard as her tremors began to surface. “Okay,” she whispered. “What do I do?”

Whelan remained still. He watched as her small hands shook, her breathing becoming shallow. He could smell her fear, and now he doubted his own ability to deal adequately with her. But he had to try, and he would tackle any crises as they arose.

Finally he stood. “If you would accompany me to a private room, we may begin.”

Chelan forced herself from her chair and followed the ebony figure into an adjoining room. There, Whelan pointed to a solitary examining table. “I will need you to disrobe, my Lady, and lie there.”

Chelan slumped back against the wall and folded her shrouded arms tightly across her chest. She wanted at least a sheet, but she was too embarrassed to ask.

Whelan hesitated. “Do you want me to get Fremma?”

“No,” she whispered.

Whelan nodded. “While you undress, I have to prepare the computer here to receive the data on you.”

Chelan watched as he headed over to the austere workspace, his back turned. Closing her eyes and clenching her jaw, she began the daunting procedure of removing her shroud and uniform. She laid them on a chair and then hurried to the table as the frigid air assaulted her sensitive skin. She hoisted herself up onto the table and drew her knees up to her chest, surrounding her legs with her arms. She rested the side of her face on her knees and allowed her long locks of shimmering hair to cascade over her in an effort to ward off the cold and reduce her exposure.

She watched Whelan’s back muscles work as he manipulated a touch screen and then extract some equipment from hidden shelves. She wanted to close her eyes against him, yet she feared letting him out of her sight.

Finally, he turned to face her, and Chelan paled at his advance. Nausea invaded her and she had to quell a nearly irrepressible need to bolt from the massive man.

Whelan was momentarily taken aback by the beauty now partially exposed to him, the fear in her large brown eyes causing him to hesitate. His war-hardened mind told him to strike fast and put her out of her misery while his higher thoughts told him to shelter and protect the Emperor’s mate. The strength of the conflicting emotions nearly caused his head to ache. But he had to quash his feelings. He could not compromise or threaten her in any way, and supreme control was his only ally.

Finally, he showed her a metallic tube. “I need a blood sample, my Lady, primarily for the cancer screening.”

Chelan nodded and removed her death grip on her legs with one arm, presenting it to him. She watched as he pressed the tip of the tube into the crook of her elbow, the hidden mechanism engaging. When he removed the cylinder, Chelan looked down at her arm. Her eyes widened. There was no blood, not even a mark. She looked over at Whelan and watched as he pushed the tube into a receptacle in the tabletop and the whole thing disappeared. Instantly a large screen danced to life, coded results flashing.

Whelan turned to her. “The test results,” he told her unnecessarily.

“Don’t you need to inject me with a marker first?”