CALLEY (RIBUS 7 Book 3) (16 page)

The cockpit cover slid back and Chelan removed her flight helmet. Suddenly, her eyes watered and her nostrils stung. “Good grief. What is that?”

“Your air, my Lady.”

“The air? But…”

Fremma removed himself from his seat and began helping her. “It is contaminated. You have been breathing pure Iceanean air for years. But no matter—to you this is home, sweet home.”

“Great,” she mumbled as she eased out of the ship. Fremma helped her to the ground, where she clutched for him. “Damn. I can’t see a thing.”

“Hold on to me. I picked a moonless night for security reasons. Dawn will be here shortly.”

Chelan looked toward the stars. “And speaking of security…”

“On the dark side of your moon for the most part, my Lady. They will remain there until I return for you. Now stand still while I get some things.”

Chelan steadied herself near the fighter. Her nose itched and she ground her fist into it. Then she tried another deep breath, and this time the air did not assault her senses quite as badly.

Fremma took her by the arm. “Stick by me. I will make sure you don’t run into anything.” He guided her a short distance away from the fighter and then urged her to sit. He slid down beside her.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait for dawn. It will occur in approximately one hour. Then we can get you together and on your way.” Fremma leaned back against a large tree and drew her to him.

She tucked herself into his chest. “I am actually afraid,” she admitted. “Now this seems more alien than Iceanea.”

Fremma stroked her long hair. “You will make the adjustment easily, especially after you are reunited with your family.”

Chelan held very still. “I think I can hear the water of the lake lapping at the shore.”

Fremma nodded. “It is a beautiful lake.”

Chelan smiled. “It is early September. Everyone is back at school and work. Few people come here now.”

Fremma looked up at the stars and struggled with his emotions. “God, I am going to miss you, Chelan.”

Chelan felt her heart clench. “I am going to miss you too, Fremma.” She hugged him tighter and then shuffled in under his shroud. “But we will endure. We have before.”

Fremma kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes against the images from the past clawing into his psyche. Long ago, when they had all thought she had died, he had felt utterly eviscerated, dead within. This parting was rendering him nearly as insensate. His emotional defenses were rallying just as suffocating dread was crystallizing, bone deep. Then her melodic voice rescued him from the brink of the deep abyss his mind was toppling into.

“How much longer?”

“Not long,” he whispered.

Chelan looked into the blackness of his concealing shroud. “Make love to me, please.”

Fremma moaned and instantly took her lips, hard. A tidal wave of sensation hit him, flooding him with need. All he wanted to do was drown in her wet silk, and he rolled her onto her back upon the soft moss.

Then, as quickly as the passion had seized him, he tamped down its intensity. He needed these feelings to sustain him through the coming storm, and he quieted, taking her gently, reverently.

Their time was slow and tender, but all too soon the early morning light began filtering down upon them. Fremma rolled reluctantly from her naked body and dressed. After covering her with her shroud, he reached for a small backpack.

Chelan sat up. “Where did that come from?”

Fremma smiled. “I did make some preparations for this, you know.”

Chelan leaned forward. “What is in it?”

Fremma undid the zipper and pulled out some clothing. “Here, put these on.”

Chelan looked wide-eyed at the faded jeans and the pretty pink T-shirt. “Where did you get all this?”

“You didn’t think I was going to release you in your uniform, did you?”

“Well, no, but I didn’t expect
this
. Where did it come from?”

“Dredon picked them up.”

“Dredon? Dredon picked them up where?”

Fremma chuckled. “I sent him out a few weeks ago in a high-speed fighter. He did a little research and came back with these. After all, he
is
intimately familiar with your measurements.”

Chelan pinked a little, but smiled. “Wow,” she whispered.

“I don’t have time to explain much, Chelan, but with a planet as primitive as Earth, infiltrating it for whatever we need is hardly a problem. Especially since we are basically the same species.”

Chelan nodded and unrolled the jeans. She caught the small white panties as they dropped. “Man, he thought of everything.”

Fremma sat still and watched as she stood and slipped into the panties. Next came the top, its fine weave hugging her body. Finally, the smooth, form-fitting jeans.

Chelan squatted down and then stood. “After wearing your uniforms for so long, I forgot how uncomfortable and restricting denim could be.”

Fremma shrugged. “They are the ‘in’ thing, or so I am told.” He dug back into the pack. Out came some white ankle socks, a pair of white runners, and a light sweater.

Chelan sat down and put everything on. Then she looked at the pack. “Anything else?”

Fremma reached for a watch and a small wallet. From the wallet he extracted numerous large bills. Chelan gasped. “Where did he get this?” She took the money and sifted through the well-used American notes.

“I did not ask.”

“He must have robbed a bank. There is a couple thousand here.”

Fremma chuckled. “Maybe. He would be very good at that.”

Chelan’s eyes shot to his, but she could see that he wasn’t being facetious.

He cocked his head. “Well, you have to eat.”

Chelan looked through the wallet. “My god, I have a credit card?”

“I hear they come in handy.”

Chelan gaped at him. “Is this tied to a bank account?”

“Uh, yes, so I am told. I did not ask where, but we have a man very good at this type of thing.”

“I bet you do,” she whispered.

Fremma grinned. “Anyway, the payments on the card come out of the account automatically. Everything was set up a while ago, and transactions have already been made to establish a pattern. Your funds are sufficient and replenishable.”

“Uh-huh. Replenishable how?”

Fremma looked at her slyly. “We have our ways.”

Chelan finally smiled. “Bank transfers from the dark side of the moon, I suppose.”

Fremma laughed. “Something like that.” Then he presented her with the fine gold watch.

Chelan took it and put it on. “And Dredon robbed a jewelry store too, no doubt.”

“He could have.” Fremma smiled and peered inside the bag. “Not much more… Oh—a cellphone with plenty of paid time, and some toiletries, as you call them, brush, comb, some more shirts, another pair of jeans, some socks…”

Chelan looked at him mischievously. “What about a bra?”

Fremma frowned. “A what?”

Chelan burst out laughing. Seeing the befuddled look on the normally unflappable supreme warrior tickled her. “Never mind. Dredon is good, but he slipped up on one aspect of women’s apparel. No matter. I shall rectify the situation soon.”

Fremma could only stare at her for a moment until he once again focused on the matter at hand. “Now, we agreed on this location as you wanted time to adjust in a familiar area for which you are nostalgic. Since you are a ways from town, there is some water and food to tide you over on your journey.”

Chelan nodded. “I did not want to burden you with the additional logistics surrounding landing a fighter in the middle of a populated area.”

“It would not have been an issue. With the antireflective coating on the fighters and the fact that they make no sound at low speeds, I could have dipped in anywhere during the dead of night. But this does afford a private, peaceful sanctuary away from any prying eyes.”

He hesitated. “Anyway, there is one last thing.” Fremma reached in and brought out two small bottles of tiny white pills.

Chelan went to take them from him, but he did not release them to her. She looked at him playfully then noted his serious expression. Her heart stumbled.

“Chelan, these are all you have in your possession that can link you to us. All else is of Earth. They are for your use only. Keep them hidden. Lie about them if you have to. There is nothing like them on your planet. If you feel threatened in any way by anyone or by any agency, dispose of them.”

“But no one—”

“No, Chelan!”

Fremma’s terseness caused her to recoil.

“Just like the accent we eradicated, these can be your downfall. I hesitate in giving them at all, and if Korba were here, he would probably forbid it.” His voice softened and his finger reached out to capture a small tear. “But I do not want you to suffer, my Lady. I want you to be as comfortable as possible. All I ask for is your caution in return.”

Chelan sniffed. “I understand completely. I will be careful. But you scare me, Fremma.”

“Oh, my pretty woman. That is not my intent. But look what happened to you simply because Ticees discovered these. Please, my Lady. You scare me. Your world has too many unknowns. Just keep them safe.”

Chelan held out her trembling hands and Fremma passed her the pills. She gripped them tightly for a while as more tears threatened her deep brown eyes. “Oh, man, suddenly I want to go home.”

Fremma looked down as he felt his heart wrenched from his chest. “Soon you will come home, Chelan. Only eight short Earth months.”

Chelan dropped the pills and sagged into him. “I want to stay with you,” she pleaded.

Fremma’s own eyes stung, and finally, the Warlord allowed his tears. “It will go quickly. And then we will have another six beautiful months together on RIBUS 7 before we reach Iceanea. Think only of that.”

Chelan sat back on her heels, her chest rising and falling in irregular sobs. “I made a mistake, Fremma. Maybe I should have gone with Zane.”

“No, no,” he soothed. “Coming here gave us an additional six months together already. And once you are with your family, your pain will ease. Just give it a chance.”

Chelan nodded, knowing that he was right, but still she felt as though she would die without him.

Fremma pushed to his knees and moved to her. He erased her tears from her face and then kissed her trembling lips. He looked down, and the words stuck in his throat. “I need to take your uniform.”

Chelan sat very still, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her eyes wept silently as she watched him neatly fold the uniform and shroud. Then, on top of them, he placed her boots. Slowly, he picked up her knives.

Chelan felt her soul wither just that much more. “You gave me those,” she blurted.

Fremma looked at her through his own moist vision, her stricken features causing his throat to burn. “I know, my Lady, but they are alien.”

Chelan peered up at the sky and then squeezed her eyes tight. “I have nothing from you to hang on to.”

Fremma stared down at the two black blades and turned them slowly. They were made especially for her, and fit her hand so well. He struggled with his own raging thoughts and then made his decision. He could not risk it, and he placed them with her uniform.

Chelan looked to him and raised her hands to her lips. Then she glanced down at the knives. “They saved my life in the Dead Zone.”

Fremma let his head fall forward. Just like the time he had found Chelan in the workout area after she had seen him and Lena together, he felt physically ill. He slumped back against the tree. He looked up at the beautiful blue-gray sky and tried desperately to quell his deepening depression. Why was saying good-bye to her this time so painful? He squeezed his eyes tight. It was not the good-bye so much as the fear of the unknown. He knew that this could easily be their last time together, and that knowledge ripped through him, leaving him torn and bleeding once again.

He suddenly focused on the strengthening morning light. He had to get going. And he had to go now. He stood abruptly, scaring Chelan to stillness. “I have to leave,” he uttered almost sternly.

Chelan looked up at him as he donned his shroud. She scrambled to her feet, the intensity of the situation causing her to panic. She lunged at him, grabbing him to her with all her strength.

Fremma was beside himself with grief, his eyes fierce, his thoughts in disarray. Instantly, he pushed her back against the tree, his mouth so hard on hers he tasted blood.

But Chelan responded, her hands gripping his long hair and clenching him to her. He reached for her jeans and panties, and in a moment, they were down and off. Hooking his hands under her arms, he lifted her off the ground and pinned her with his body. Then he spread her legs wide on either side of him and released his erection. She gasped as his hardness pierced her, his need for bonding just as great as hers. She groaned, his powerful thrusts rocking her womb, the pain matching note for note her mental anguish. This was not lovemaking. It was their last frantic attempt to be one, and then nearly as quickly as he had taken her, he withdrew.

The Warlord stepped back, allowing her to sag to the ground. He looked down at her, his chest heaving from exertion. “I will return,” he asserted hoarsely. “And you will be well.”

He concealed himself in his pants and then wrenched on his helmet. He scooped up her belongings, and without speaking another word, he vaulted into the fighter and closed the cockpit.

Chelan was stunned. It was as though the ground beneath her feet had just given way. Her lips bled but she could not will herself to touch them. She watched as the ebony bird of prey moved silently from the trees and out over the lake. It rose slowly into the sky before pointing its nose toward the heavens. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, it disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Chelan felt dazed, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. She raised her fingers to her lips, and she tasted their shared blood, savoring the last of his body that he had given her. Then she glanced down at herself and touched her swollen femininity. She ached, and it gave her solace. The pain was from him, and she knew it was something she could at least hold on to for a little bit longer.