by C. Gockel
Carey’s eyes were amused, but he said, soberly, “Very true, Captain. Go on.”
“They were waiting, there and there.” She pointed out the spots.
With a jerk of his chin, Carey sent two of the jarheads to check that out.
“After we made them go away, we collected intel from the bodies.” She pointed into the jungle. “We think they may have parked their ship here. We were just discussing whether it might be booby trapped when you showed up.”
Carey blinked. “You have had a busy time since you bent your bird. How many bandits?”
“Six, sir.”
“Six.” Carey nodded to the other two men. “See if there is a ship in there, but might be better not to touch it until an EOD detail checks it out.”
The two men nodded and faded into the jungle, their weapons ready.
For a moment it seemed that Sara might mention the disc, but she didn’t. She turned with Carey and headed back toward her ship. Fyn cast one, regretful back, then followed them. He’d have liked to be with the jarheads checking out that ship.
“EOD?”
“Explosive Ordinance Disposal.” Sara gave him a quick smile.
“Might have been helpful to interrogate one or two, just to find out what we did to piss them off,” Carey said, mildly.
“You don’t interrogate Dusan,” Fyn said. “They don’t talk and more come.”
“Apparently they have internal transmitters, sir.”
Carey stopped and looked at them both for a long moment, before nodding. “Okay.”
Sara stopped by the stuff they’d taken from the bodies and dropped the disc back into the pile. Fyn eyed it, but Carey was looking at him.
“Maybe you could tell us more about these Dusan when we get back to home plate?”
Fyn nodded, thinking, they won’t like what they hear. But they’d survived their first encounter with them, their ship apparently intact.
“How is mom, sir?” Sara asked.
“A few blown fuses and broken dishes. They just hit and ran when the first salvo didn’t take us out.”
“They’re confused, but they’ll be back,” Fyn said. “They always come back.” Actually he was confused, too. Home plate? Mom?
“Well, then lets get the tow set up and get out of here.”
He looked up as the two soldiers rejoined them.
“There’s definitely a ship there, sir. I think we could tow it, too. It’s an ugly mother, but not that big.”
“We better ask the Old Man about that. Maybe we can come back and get it.”
Now the two jarheads checking the dead guys came back.
One of them said, sounding a bit surprised, “Two head shots and one through the heart over there. The other three are just dead.”
He looked at Sara with a questioning lift of his brows.
“Energy weapon,” Sara said. “Disrupts their heart beat. Like the Dusan weapon, right? Only your stun isn’t quite so lethal.”
“Sweet.” Carey looked at Sara. “Nice shooting, Donovan. You, too, Fyn.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Fyn just nodded.
Carey was quiet a moment. “We should bring the bodies back with us. I’m sure the doc would love to do an alien autopsy. Get some body bags, Perkins.” He looked at Sara and Fyn. “These guys can handle the rest, you and Fyn go get settled on board. Oh, and I brought some MREs and go juice. Figured you’d be hungry.”
Sara exchanged a quick look with Fyn, her lips twitching. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
As they walked toward the ship, Fyn asked, “Autopsy?”
Sara made a bit of a face. “That means cut ‘em open. A bit gruesome, but if there is a transmitter in there, be nice to know how it works.”
He nodded thoughtfully. These people’s methods were worth further study. He could gather valuable information if they let him stay. Kalian thought he was dead. There could be no harm in delaying his return. But even as he thought it, he knew that wasn’t the real reason he wanted to stay.
The reason looked at him.
“So, did you live on that stuff or just pull it out to tweak me?”
“That’s pretty much it for eating.”
She shuddered. “Dang. Well, there are some who do not consider an MRE fine cuisine, but I’m guessing you aren’t going to be one of them.”
“MRE?”
“Meals Ready to Eat.”
What was it she’d said? “Sweet.”
Chapter Two
Sara enjoyed the hot food, but the shower was the best, even if it was on a timer. It was heavenly to get that stuff off her face and arms. She slipped on her robe, gathered her stuff and padded back to her quarters. They were so tiny, it was like living in a broom closet, but Sara was glad she didn’t have to bunk with anyone. She was under orders to report to the infirmary, but the Major had given her permission to shower first. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she could see why. The doc wouldn’t have been able to see any injuries.
She’d taken the bandage off her temple before the shower. It had been covered in blood, but the wound underneath was just a thin, red line, more scratch then anything. She wasn’t surprised. She was used to healing fast. It was a good thing. If she got her bird repaired, she’d be returned to duty a lot faster. It’s not like she didn’t know she was a freak of nature.
She slipped on her spare uniform and made her pass through the infirmary. The doc seemed impressed she’d come through the crash with only a scratch and a few bruises. She might have helped him feel okay by minimizing the crash. If he’d seen her ship, he’d have probably put her under the big microscope. She tried to avoid the big microscope.
She was going to visit her bird next, but Colonel Carey called her on the radio and told her to report and be debriefed. She changed directions, wondering how Fyn was getting on. As if her thoughts had summoned him, she rounded an intersection and almost ran into him. He’d also had a shower and someone had found him a change of clothes. He was still tall, but he cleaned up real good. Now the dreads framed a face that was very nicely put together, kind of angular and lean. Dark, arching brows made a nice frame for his green eyes. He had a beard and mustache that drew attention to his mouth. Even stripped of his armament, he still had a dangerous air about him. She had the feeling he didn’t need all the bells and whistles to kick butt.
She realized she was staring and, naturally she blushed. He grinned at her, curling the toes in her boots. She lifted her chin and said, “You scrub up pretty good. You’re almost pretty.”
Actually, he wasn’t pretty. He was smoking hot. She had a feeling that even the most military female heart on the Doolittle was going to be fluttering. Hers certainly was. And he’d kissed her. For luck, but still…dang.
Someone coughed behind him. Sara peered around and realized he had an escort. She looked at Fyn, her lips twitching. He just shrugged, but he was trying not to grin, too.
Nice mouth.
Stop it, Sara.
“Where you headed?” she asked.
“Something about a debriefing?”
“Then we’re heading the same way.” She turned, so she could walk beside him. “When did you pick up Frick and Frack?”
“Right after I met Colonel Halliwell?”
“They don’t know you yet or the Old Man’d have assigned six guys to watch your ass.”
Fyn grinned. “So, are they going to try to retrieve the Dusan vessel?”
“Old Man sent some jarheads and an EOD detail to see if it’s safe to bring it aboard.”
Sara stopped outside a door. “This is it.”
She punched the panel and the door slid back. Carey was there, but she was surprised to see the Old Man, too. Crap. Colonel Halliwell had sat down with her when he was picking his crew and that had been pretty intense. The Old Man had eyes that drilled clear through to your soul. Sara had left the interview feeling like she’d been turned inside out. Halliwell, a full bird colonel, was a tall man, as tall as S
ara, with piercing blue eyes and an uncompromising mouth. His bald head was well-shaped and he had a lean, tough build.
She entered and came to attention, feeling herself start to sweat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fyn come in, followed by the watch dogs, like a liner with a couple of rowboats in tow. She saw Halliwell’s gaze flicker that way. A slight look of amusement softened his stern expression.
“At ease.” Halliwell moved to the head of the table. “Everyone grab a chair and let’s get started.” His gaze pinged on her like radar. “You almost had a nylon letdown, Captain.”
Talk about a glass half full. She hadn’t punched out.
She lifted her chin. “Yes, sir.”
The Old Man didn’t like excuses.
He stared at her for a long moment. Her throat dried. If he grounded her she might as well go back to her own galaxy next resupply.
“Looked like it was a real furball. You splashed five bandits,” some phrases just stuck, even in outer space, “and got knocked down while providing cover fire for your wing man. You and your bird survived. Not bad for your first dog fight. Think you can get your ship up again?”
“Yes, sir.” The words came out on a relieved exhale.
“Good. Anything you want to add?”
She hesitated. She really didn’t want to add it. She wanted to forget it, but everything mattered out here, even stuff that couldn’t be explained.
“There was one other thing, sir.”
His brows arched.
“As I was going in, I was doing some bat turns, trying to bring my speed down. I was still feet wet and I got this energy spike reading on my sensors. And…I thought I saw…something.”
“Something?” He angled his head and his brows arched.
She should have known he wouldn’t let her get away with that.
“A city, sir. On an island.”
“You saw a city on an island?” He didn’t just sound skeptical, he looked it, too.
She lifted her chin. “It was just a glimpse, sir, but it was there and then it was gone.”
She felt color rise in her face. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.
The Old Man looked at Fyn. “Do you know anything about this?”
Fyn was quiet for a moment. “There are stories that the Garradians had an outpost out here somewhere. That’s one reason the Dusan still monitor this sector.”
“Any stories about them having cloaking technology?” Carey asked.
Fyn shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors that they had many wonders.”
Sara was getting used to his abbreviated style of delivering information, but she could tell it was frustrating the Colonel.
“Who are these Garradians?” There was a bit of a bite to the Old Man’s voice.
“Depends on who you ask,” Fyn said. “Some say they used to have outposts all over the galaxy. That they are the ones who invented inter-planetary travel. Others say they never existed.”
Sara saw him kind of hesitate, as if he could have said more, but stopped.
“So if they did exist, they’re gone? Why did they leave and when?” Carey wanted to know.
Fyn shrugged. “Before my time.”
“Before the Dusan?” Halliwell frowned.
Fyn shrugged again. It seemed to be his primary mode of conversation.
“Who are the major players in this galaxy?” Carey gave Sara a quick grin.
“The Dusan and the Gadi. They’ve been fighting each other, well, long as anyone I know remembers.”
“Hatfields and McCoys,” Carey said. “All the best galaxies have them. So who do we want to win?”
Fyn blinked once, then he frowned. “Any worlds that are still intact are aligned with the Gadi. If they weren’t, they were absorbed by the Dusan.”
“Absorbed?” Sara asked. That didn’t sound good.
Fyn hesitated, his face suddenly grim, and then said slowly, “Very few escape when the Dusan attack. There are stories of mass executions. I’ve heard that the Dusan eliminate the local population and reseed the planets with their own people, but I’ve never met anyone who’s ever been to a planet held by the Dusan after they took over.”
His planet had been absorbed, she realized. Who had he lost? Maybe that’s why she felt connected to him—something that had never happened so quickly before.
“Everyone tends to shoot first, because that’s the way the Dusan operate.”
“And the Gadi?”
Again Fyn seemed to hesitate. “Most of my dealings have been with their allies. The Gadi planet is deep in their quadrant of the galaxy. They use other planets as a perimeter for defense. Supply them with weapons and tech and trade, but in their own way, they are just as hidden as the Dusan.”
“How do the Dusan pick off planets allied with other planets?” Carey wanted to know.
“Numbers.” Fyn looked down. His dreads fell forward and he looked at Carey through them. “By the time any assistance can arrive, it’s already over.”
Carey and Halliwell exchanged uneasy looks.
“Maybe that’s why the Garradians left.” Carey’s tone was light but his expression was serious.
“There is a story….” Fyn stopped, frowning slightly.
“About the Garradians?” Carey asked.
Fyn nodded. “Some say they’ll be back. That the wonders they left are locked. The Dusan and Gadi both want to control it. They’re looking for a key. They’re each afraid the other will beat them to it.”
“Do you believe it?” the Colonel asked.
Fyn shrugged again. “They believe it.”
The Colonel frowned, then looked at Sara. “You say your sensors picked up the energy spike?”
Sara nodded.
“Pull it off and let me take a look. In the meantime, get your ship back to flight ready status.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Colonel turned to Fyn. “Would you be willing to share what you know with the Major here? As you may have guessed, we’re new to the neighborhood.”
Fyn nodded.
“I’m not sure we’ll be going any deeper in the galaxy, based on what you’ve told us about these Dusan—”
Fyn jerked slightly.
The Colonel arched his brows. “What?”
“If you leave now, the Dusan will think it was luck you beat them.”
“But they aren’t intergalactic,” Carey said. “No one here is, are they?”
Fyn looked at him. “No, but they’ve never had a real reason to try.”
Halliwell nodded thoughtfully. “Well, never liked running from a fight.”
The Old Man stood up and Sara and the Major rose quickly, too.
“Get to it, people. I want to have a plan before our next check in with the Boyington.”
Sara and the Major saluted as the Old Man left, though he paused at the door to say to the two guards, “You’re dismissed.” He fixed a fierce stare on Fyn. “Don’t disappoint me, young man.”
Carey looked pleased with the outcome. “You say you’re a pilot?” Fyn nodded. “Since you’ve fought the Dusan, I’d like to get you in a sim tomorrow. Get you used to our craft, too. Just in case. Since Donovan is grounded at the moment, she can show you around—”
“When I’m not working on my ship, sir,” Sara felt bound to point out.
“Yeah, that’s a priority. Get with Briggs and get me a timeline on the repairs. And get some rest. You look like hell.”
“Yes, sir.” Thank you, sir.
Only when he’d left did she look at Fyn. “Welcome to the Air Force. All you have to do is the impossible and get it done yesterday—otherwise known as an opportunity to excel.”
He pushed back his chair and stood up. “I can help with your repairs.”
“Thanks. Maybe Briggs won’t bust my chops if you’re there.” She smiled at him. The moment kind of drew out and Sara felt color creeping into her face again. For the first time in her life, she wished she was pretty. “Well, the repair bay is down a
couple of levels, close to the main fighter bay, of course.”
She knew she was babbling a bit, but couldn’t seem to help herself.
“I’ll take your six.” Fyn smiled slightly her. “What’s a sim?”
He followed her into the passageway, as she started to explain the concept of simulated fighting, but before they’d gone more than a couple of steps, Major Foster, part of the jarhead contingent, hove into view. Sara came to attention and saluted.
“Donovan. You made it. Good. We’re booming tonight, twenty hundred. Be there.”
“I can’t, sir. Sorry. Under orders from Carey and the doc to rest. Maybe tomorrow night?”
He looked disappointed, but then caught sight of Fyn. “So, this is Chewie?”
“Fyn, sir.”
“Nice to meet you.” He shook Fyn’s hand. “You’re my first alien.”
Sara choked. “Actually, sir, I think we’re the aliens in this galaxy.”
“Really? Okay. Tomorrow night, Donovan.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sara looked at Fyn. “Sorry about that.”
“Chewie? Booming?”
“Booming is having fun, a party. We do the music.” She sighed. “Chewie…that’s a little harder to explain.”
An invisible city on an island.
No wonder no one had been able to find the lost outpost. And Sara, these earth people, seemed to have stumbled across it by accident.
He’d always believed the gods had a sense of humor. Now he knew he was right.
Too bad the Dusan would never know the joke. If they hadn’t attacked this ship, Sara would never have come near the planet, let alone any island. If it was the lost outpost. But it had to be. What else could it be out here?
As Fyn walked with Sara through the ship, it seemed like every direction he looked, there were people—interesting to study, but so many of them. Carey had explained rank and pointed out the “fighter pukes” and the “jarheads” or Marines. They all stood tall and looked each other in the eye. They were proud and confident, but it wasn’t a boastful pride. Their confidence came, it seemed to him, from being well trained and well armed. They were like no other military group in his experience. They didn’t come here looking for a fight. Fyn could tell that in the way they dealt with him. But they weren’t afraid of a fight if it found them. That was obvious.