TICEES (62 page)

Amid quiet times, Chelan had begun to mend the man’s uniform while she sat with him using the small surgical laser. Her repair work was meticulous, but even with all her time and care, she knew that the garment would be far from perfect. Part of it was torn and missing in the thigh area, but she did as well as she could, knowing full well that he probably wouldn’t want to wear any of her fur handiwork. Then she smiled to herself. Knowing the Iceanean people, he wouldn’t hesitate to wear nothing at all.

Chelan felt her skin flush, and she cursed herself for her ever-present prudishness. He would undoubtedly be even less concerned about his clothes once he learned how long he had been in her intimate care. Over the days she had continually cleansed every inch of his body, and her concern over his clothing was absurd. But still, to her annoyance, the thought surfaced.

Finally, Chelan shrugged her shoulders at herself. After all, she sat before him now, mending his uniform in her own nakedness, but that was out of the ease in the knowledge that he would not simply pop into consciousness. Or would he? Chelan involuntarily shuddered and glanced over at him.

Then it struck her. She had better do something about her own uniform and weapons. He would eventually revive, and the Imperial markings on her belongings would betray her to him. And while she was deciding what to do with her things, she had better start coming up with a story to explain her presence in the heart of the Dead Zone.

There was do doubt he was an Imperial warrior, and judging by his stunning looks and his superb conditioning, he was of high standing. Chelan laid her work down and stared at him. She wondered how he would react to an alien, and she immediately realized that she needed to hide his weapons also. In reality, she was well aware that it was an exercise in futility because she knew he could literally kill her with the grasp of his fingers, but why make it easy for him? Until his leg was healed enough for him to stand, she could at least stay out of his reach, thus thwarting her demise until she could convince him to spare her.

Chelan then began to deliberate her alien status. If he didn’t pinpoint her true identity instantly, then, like Solis, his initial reaction could be that of revulsion. As soon as Solis’ image surged into her mind, she instinctively moved back from the man. She had not thought about that initially, but now she had better start thinking about every possible scenario before he awoke.

She focused on the people of the South. They did not adhere to a rigorous breeding program, and there was far more diversity in their looks and builds. She knew that some exotic hair and eye colorings existed, but that was far from the norm. She also knew that the people were large and sturdy, and she definitely did not fit that bill. But she could try to convince him that she was young even though her more-than-full-blown curves would dispute that.

Chelan shuddered again. It didn’t matter. To him, she had to be a woman of the South. He did not have sensors with which to pick out her alien physiology, so he would have to accept her story as fact. Her next problem was a tale to explain her presence, and that was definitely going to be an even bigger challenge.

For the first time since her arrival in the cavern, she began to worry about the paramount necessity of her secrecy. She knew that if he recovered fully, he would leave. These men were born and bred to serve, and no small cave-dwelling alien would be able to dissuade him from his Imperial duties.

Suddenly, Chelan’s heart stopped. She wondered whom he served, and a shiver went down her spine. What if he was in the Emperor’s command? Chelan shook her head. Regardless, there was nothing she could do about it. She would simply have to convince him that she was benign, an insignificant woman of the South, a woman he should not concern himself with.

Chelan finally pushed her troubling thoughts away and returned to her work on the uniform. Before she got herself in a tizzy about anything else, she had to wait and see if he would ever recover total consciousness. There was always the possibility that he would not. As if he had read her mind, the man moaned loudly, and Chelan jumped, her heart pounding.

She pushed his uniform away and knelt by him, looking down into his contorted features. He moaned again, and his head lolled. Chelan reached for his face and began stroking his smooth flesh. “Come on,” she whispered. “Come on.”

He remained stationary for a moment, and then he began to stir again, his motions becoming more agitated. Chelan panicked. She had to keep him still. His wound was still open from the abscess, and he could tear apart deep tissues if he struggled. But Chelan knew that he was far too big and powerful for her to handle. If he lashed out, he could literally kill her. Binding him was her only option.

He moaned again and then tried to roll from his side onto his back. Chelan dug her fingers into his shoulder. “Don’t move, please don’t move,” she pleaded.

Suddenly, he was still, and his head fell back to its side. Chelan sighed with relief, but she could no longer be complacent. She had to get rid of her things, and she sprang to her feet. She dressed herself in one of her bikini-like sarongs and then pulled on one of her soft leather tunics. She cinched it snuggly at the waist with a length of tie and then bundled up her uniform and belongings with her shroud. Immediately she started out of the cavern and made the trek to the ice-rock interface. She had to move quickly, as it wasn’t long before her bare feet started going numb. She bound her things tightly and shoved them back into a crevasse in the tunnel wall. Chelan smiled. The black-on-black material melded into the shadows beautifully, but for extra protection, Chelan pushed a sizable boulder in front of the crevasse opening. Then she sat back and caught her breath. It was going to be a long time before he could walk, let alone make it up here, and her secret would be safe.

Chelan scampered back down into the cavern and then was hit by another urgent thought. She would have to manufacture some sort of footwear. Her fur cloaks would have protected her body long enough for her to retrieve him from the crash, but her feet would have frozen. Chelan immediately set to work on her project, and as the hours passed, she came up with a lovely pair of furred boots.

Time ticked along, and though the man’s fever had broken, there was still no sign of conscious awareness. But his wound was healing well, and Chelan was thinking about closing the remaining flesh. The abscess had stopped draining, and it was imperative that no further infections were allowed in. Besides, it was best that she did it before he awoke, for she did not think she could manipulate his flesh while he was conscious.

And so she began with cleaning the wound and making fresh surfaces on the edges of his skin. Carefully, she closed it, binding the flesh as perfectly as she could with the gel. Then Chelan covered him up once again and pondered all the ramifications of his eventual awakening.

Suddenly, she winced. When he had moved the last time, she had spoken to him in English. She had automatically receded back into her mother tongue, both in words and in thought. She would have to be careful in the future, and she forced herself back to Iceanean right then and there.

Another day passed, and Chelan chipped out some primitive tools from the surrounding cavern walls. Fortunately, tiny outcrops afforded her rocks with the hardness for tools, for the cavern was mostly calcite, and it was far too soft. She would have to have something she could say she used to skin and butcher the animals. There was also the problem of how she’d caught them, and simple rocks came to mind. Her throwing arm, now her left arm thanks to Solis, was still fast and sure, although not up to its former self. But she was good enough to bag animals in the dark by wielding well-directed throws toward their sounds. But in the meantime, it did not matter. She had enough pelts and meat to last them both for months.

Chelan returned to the man and removed the soiled furs from under him. Then she pushed him to his back, changing his position as she had done many times over the days to prevent pressure sores. She walked back to the warm pool to clean the furs, and she smiled. His urine volume was up, and it was now completely clear. Chelan knew that was a good sign and indicated that at least his kidneys were functioning normally. She was still bent over the pool when she heard him cry out. She leapt to her feet.

Chelan ran to his side and knelt down next to him. She reached for his face just as he groaned loudly, and with a speed Chelan could not have hoped to react to, he lashed out with his hand. His fist caught the side of her face and sent her hurtling backward onto the rock floor. She pushed up, her multicolored world whirling about her and causing her to swoon. She gasped for air and winced with pain, but she had to get to him. She regained her footing and took a moment or two to stabilize herself. Then she removed her sash and approached him cautiously. When he quieted, she seized her opportunity, wrapping the leather tie quickly about his wrists and cinching them up tightly, thereby partially immobilizing him.

Chelan then flopped down and touched her swelling cheek. She knew that her eye was going to blacken, and her head throbbed, but she tried to ignore it. Only when he was completely calm did she dare to shuffle up to him. She looked down and made sure that the pelt that kept his legs apart was still in place. Then, tentatively, she reached for his face and began to stroke him. “Come on,” she cooed in a soft Iceanean voice. “Talk to me.”

He flinched under her touch and his head rolled back and forth, but then he stopped all motion, and his body went flaccid. Chelan hung her head. She was tired, and her spirits were battered. Her head and jaw ached terribly, and she closed her eyes against the tears that threatened.

Gathering herself together, she adjusted the furs about him. She parted his legs slightly more and tucked more pelts under his genitals. Then she pulled her large fur closer to him. She sat down heavily next to him and looked at his chest. His lacerations looked healed, even the one on his side that had originally been infected. Though he had just struck her, she felt a need for the silent comfort he could provide. Edging down along his side, she lay gently upon him, her head cradled in the hollow of his shoulder. She snuggled against him and took a deep breath. She craved his presence and his warmth, and with time his rhythmic heartbeat and slow breathing lulled her into another well-deserved sleep.

Shan struggled to open his eyes, but they would not respond. He licked his dry lips and swallowed hard. His throat hurt, and his temples throbbed. Suddenly, flashes of the brief air battle went through his mind, and he felt the panic that had knifed through him when he realized he had been hit and that he was going down. Then the explosion rocketed through the fighter, and he knew he was wounded. He saw the blinding white of the Dead Zone before him, and then all went black.

Shan tried to open his eyes once again, and this time he was successful, but his vision was cloudy. Straining, he forced them to clarity and held his breath. Where was he? He looked over the rock and ice above him, and he was confused. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to sort through his tenebrous thoughts for answers, but there was nothing, just the air battle.

He tried to move, but he could not. He took several slow, deep breaths and felt a weight on his chest. Cautiously, he looked down. Shan exhaled sharply at the sight of the sleeping woman, and he flinched.

Chelan shot up, startled by his movements. Her eyes were wide, and her heart pounded as she clutched at her tunic. She was completely disoriented, and it took her a moment to stumble back into reality. Then she looked down at the man, and her breath caught. Brilliant azure eyes met hers, and she felt a rush of joy. She went to speak, but instantly froze. His eyes sliced through her, hostility oozing from his features. She swallowed hard, her happiness spontaneously evaporating, excitement replaced by foreboding.

Shan’s nostrils flared. Then looked down at his hands, and he saw the lacing. “Why am I bound?” he shouted.

Chelan jumped, her eyes filling. She had never expected such a cool welcome from the man she had nursed for so long, and her heart seized. She wanted to clear her tattered hair from her face, but she dared not move. “You are hurt … my Lord.” Chelan hesitated. She did not know what else to call him, and she hoped that the formal term of respect would sooth his savage display. She clutched her tunic tightly at her chest. “You have been unconscious for a long time, and I bound you to keep you from hurting yourself … or me.” Her voice was a quiet whisper.

“Untie me!” he demanded.

Chelan took several shaky breaths. “I would prefer that you remained—” Chelan did not have time to finish or to flee. His motion was lightening, and he grabbed the front of her tunic roughly with his bound hands. Chelan cowered and tried to protect her head and face with her arms, expecting to be dealt a fatal blow.

Shan jerked her to him with a violence that caused her head to snap; stars flashed through her vision. His grip was fierce, and his rage escalated at her refusal. “Untie me!” he boomed.