by C. Gockel
In short order they reached a door in a different part of the outpost. After a short wait, they “ushered” her inside another room with a shove. Two of them followed her in and piled her weapons and vest on a desk. Then they stood back.
A man rose from behind the desk. He was probably in his fifties and he wore a dark green uniform—must be the real Dusan uniform. He had a red nose and not a lot of hair—except inside that nose. A little white make up and he could have been shoe-in as a circus clown, if he could lose the snarly expression.
Sara came to attention, then went to as at ease as she could with her hands secured.
He looked down his red nose, and then paced around her, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He returned to his spot behind his desk and clasped his hands behind his back.
“What world sends its women to fight for them?” he sneered.
Sara said something rude in Russian.
He frowned, and then looked at the men standing on either side of her.
“She doesn’t even speak the Common Language.” His lips curled. He raised his voice. “How did you get on this outpost? Where is your ship?”
Like loud would bridge the language gap. Sara called him some names in Arabic.
He looked at her weapons, picked up the P-90 and fiddled with it. Sara tried not to flinch when the barrel pointed at her. Luckily it was pointed at the ceiling when it went off. All three of them jumped like they’d been shot. Too bad some of them hadn’t been. Sara felt her lips twitching, but couldn’t seem to do anything about it.
His eyes narrowed, and his cheeks flushed to match his nose. For a long moment she thought he was going to backhand her. It was a reflex to bring on her steely-eyed killer look. Another long moment of staring.
“Take her to a holding cell. I do not have time to deal with her now.”
Adin Xever walked off his ship and greeted Commander Gower with a short nod. He did not like to be kept waiting.
“Why did you delay my landing?”
Gower looked uneasy. “There was a security breach, my leader.”
Adin frowned. “A security breach? How is that possible?”
“I do not know. My men discovered her near the abandoned section of the outpost—”
Adin turned sharply towards him. “Her? It was a woman?”
“One too stupid to speak the Common Language and dressed as a warrior—”
“—and yet able to penetrate your security.” Adin was almost afraid to hope the gods could be so kind. “Did this stupid woman have red hair by any chance?”
He tensed, waiting...
“Yes, my leader.”
He sighed silently in relief.
“I will deal with her myself—after the inspection.”
Adin paused. “Have a gown delivered to the woman. One fitting for your leader’s presence.”
“Of course.”
How she had come to be here must be determined, but for now it was enough that she was here. The gods did indeed smile on those they loved.
Carey picked up the backpack and a sandwich with one bite out of it. “This is her pack. And I’m guessing this is her lunch. She was here.”
“There’s no sign of a struggle.” Fyn looked around.
They’d hastily assembled a team and then followed the path of lights into the strange, arched building, which had transported them to this section of the island. In short order, the lights had led them into this building and down to what seemed to be a dead end.
“According to the report she was preparing,” Henderson said, “this is where she should be. She told me she was going to check out one, last room.”
Carey looked at the doorway. “That would probably be the room, then.” He stepped up to it and peered cautiously in. “Can’t see anything.” He reached in with his P-90 until he hit something, then checked the dimensions. “It’s about the size of an elevator.”
Fyn looked down. The light path pointed right to it.
“It’s saying she went in there, so it has to be some kind of transport.”
Fyn stepped up the glowing panel next to it, and studied the planet pictured there. He knew that planet. It was a Dusan garrison, part of a chain of defensive positions protecting their home world. He’d spent a long season watching it for Kalian. If Sara was transported there, she was in a lot of trouble.
Carey called the Old Man. “Colonel, we’ve found Donovan’s pack, but we need a geek-er, scientist to come look at this place. We’re wondering if the room Donovan was going to check out was actually some kind of transportation portal.”
“We’ll fly Smith there in the transport,” Halliwell said.
Carey joined Fyn at the map. “You think she ended up there?”
“If she did, she’s in trouble. That’s a Dusan garrison planet.” Henderson got on the radio this time. “Sir, we think Donovan may be in trouble. Requesting permission to go extract.”
“Negative. Stay put until we figure this out.”
Fyn made a half move toward the doorway.
“Take it easy, Chewie,” Carey said. “We will be going after her, but we won’t be much help if we go off half-cocked.”
Chapter Nine
When Adin finally turned toward the holding area, it was hard for him to conceal his anticipation. When the attack on the Doolittle failed, he had wondered if he would ever see Sara again.
Gower indicated the holding cell and stopped, letting Adin step in front of the barred room by himself. The edge of the cell, where the bed was located, was in shadow and for a moment he wondered if she had managed to escape. She was very resourceful, as he had good cause to know. Then he heard a rustle of movement and Sara walked out of the shadows. She stopped a few feet from the bars, her feet planted, her hands clasped behind, her back very straight. Her gaze was both cool and unsurprised. She was still wearing her uniform, he noted with a flicker of annoyance. It hid her figure and the pattern made her almost blend into the shadows of the cell.
“Sara.” Hard not to let triumph color his voice.
“Mr. Supreme Leader of the Dusan.”
He had wondered if they had guessed he was not Gadi and it seemed they had. Her gaze swept over him, starting at the top and moving down. There was a look in her eyes that made him glad for the bars between them.
With a flicker of annoyance, he asked Gower, “How many men did she kill?”
She could not be as calm and cool as she looked.
“Eight, my leader.”
“Actually,” Sara said, “I think it was nine.” She wiggled her fingers, like she was counting. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was nine.”
Gower looked annoyed. “One of the men is injured, my leader, not dead.”
Sara frowned. “That’s embarrassing.”
Adin stepped closer to her cell. He made his voice cold and threatening. “It…amuses you to talk about killing my men?”
Sara’s brows arched. “Just taking…pride in my work.” Her gaze held his captive. “Not that I’m done. Hoping to get at least one more.”
“Insolence,” Gower muttered. “Shall I have her punished, my leader?”
Adin waved him to silence. She was bluffing, of course, but it was…exhilarating.
He looked at her for a long moment, considering his best approach.
“I am curious where you hid your ship? And how you managed to penetrate our security.” He waited a moment, not surprised she did not answer. “My men are searching and we will find it.”
This seemed to amuse her.
He studied her, starting with her face and then moving slowly down her body, remembering what her uniform hid, hoping to remind her of what was still between them.
“I am sure a gown was delivered for you?”
She blinked once. “It didn’t fit.”
He smiled. He should have expected this.
“Perhaps one of the women can adjust it for you?”
She turned and grabbed a bundle of fabric from the sm
all table.
“They’ll need to mend it, too.” She held it up, letting the shredded remains of the gown drift down to the floor between them. “It tore.”
Gower gasped. Adin ignored him.
“Perhaps some of my men can help you change into a different gown, one that fits?”
Sara stared at him, her lips slowly curving in anticipation. There was a dangerous light in her eyes.
“Don’t be surprised if it ends up on one of them.”
The curve of her mouth was heady fuel to the heat simmering inside him. He took a step closer.
“You know I can not let you defy me. I am the Supreme Leader.”
She leaned forward.
“Then you should probably change your Supreme mind about me and your gown. Cause it’s only going on my cold, dead body.”
He had to stop himself from laughing out loud. “And what if I just had them stun you?”
She shrugged. “I’ll be ready, but hey, knock yourself out.” She hesitated. “Please.”
He shook his head. She was charming with defiance shining in her eyes. The willful tilt of her chin gave him a glimpse of the pure line of her neck. It would be sweet when the tide of passion turned the other way, when her eyes turned smoky with desire.
“We will set the matter aside for this evening.” He studied her for another long moment, picturing her fiery hair and pale limbs against black bedding. Yes, definitely black. There would be other preparations to make, too. She was a dangerous guest. “When we finally have that dinner together.”
He got another long, level look.
“I’ll try to contain my excitement.” She covered her mouth to hide a yawn and blinked sleepily.
If any other woman had talked to him like that, he would have had her whipped. She was not even his usual type. Her shape was barely a woman’s. And yet he could only think of her. Somehow she made defiance, even insolence…headier than spirits, more appealing than twenty willing women. It had been a long time since he had met a woman with half her fire and passion—if he ever had.
He stepped close, so he could see her without the bars in the way. He stared until she met his gaze, reaching out to her with the heat coursing through him, trying to break through to where she wanted him, too.
Her gaze deflected him. She was strong, but he was stronger. And he had time on his side. In the end he would get what he wanted.
He always did.
Fyn watched Dr. Smith studying the maps and the portal with growing impatience. Sara was out there. She was in trouble and this guy was muttering about folding space, clearly more excited about that than a missing soldier. A lot of time wasted, just to hear him agree that she’d probably been transported to another planet.
“This is crap.” Fyn straightened and pulled his weapon. He spun it expertly, activating it and setting it to stun. “I’m going in—with or without you.”
Henderson straightened. “Me, too.” His squad nodded agreement. They’d lost her and they intended to find her.
Smith turned and looked at them. “But we don’t know what will happen—or if it even works.”
“Oh, it works.” Fyn pushed him out of the way and started to step into the opening. Carey grabbed his arm.
“Don’t try to stop me.”
“We should step in together.” Carey looked back at the Henderson. “You come through after, two at a time. Weapons ready.”
He shouldered his P-90 and nodded to Fyn. And together they stepped into the opening.
Lights flashed and thinned. He felt thinned, too. It stopped abruptly and they both spun around. If Sara had been here, she was gone.
Fyn stepped out, followed by Carey. The room was dead easy to clear. They were heading for the exit when Henderson made his arrival.
“Okay, that was weird,” he said, “but at least we’re not dead.”
Fyn looked back, noticing that this portal didn’t have maps. This might be a one-way trip. As they “stacked” by the door, the last two guys on the squad arrived.
“You two stay here and try to keep the door open,” Carey said. “The rest of you with me.”
Adin looked at Gower with growing impatience. The preparations felt like they had taken too long. He was anxious to see Sara again and eager to begin her initiation into her new life as his companion.
“I am sorry, my leader. They should have been here by now.”
Adin frowned. “How many men did you send?”
“Four, my leader. My best men.”
“Did you tell them to secure her hands?”
‘Yes, my leader.”
Now the sound of footsteps could be heard. Gower turned toward the door with relief.
“That must be them—”
Footsteps stopped abruptly, replaced with thuds and grunts. Gower rushed toward the door. Adin grabbed a stunner, before following him. It seemed wise, knowing what he knew of Sara.
As the door slid back, they could see the four “best” men, in various states of misery, lying at Sara’s feet. Adin pointed the stunner at her, as he surveyed the damage.
Gower stared at her, then looked around. “Who did this, woman?”
Sara shrugged, her eyes wide and innocent.
“They tripped.”
More men came running down the corridor toward her. Two of them grabbed her arms.
She looked at Gower. “I’m hurt. You could have sent your best men instead of these clumsy gomers.”
Gower sputtered something incomprehensible.
“Oh.” Sara looked down, then up. “Sorry.”
The two men tried to force her into the room. Adin noticed she straightened her legs and dug in her heels, making them work for every step forward. Then she saw the chair, with the chains hanging ready. Before he could warn them there was a blur of movement. One man staggered one direction, then dropped on his face. The other dropped where he stood. Two more closed in and they went down, too. Another aimed a stun gun at her.
“Do not damage her,” Adin said, sharply. He mentally summoned more men.
In the end, it took six men to get her into the chair bolted to the floor and four more than that to secure her arms and legs with the chains. Over the heads of his men, Sara looked at him, a furious color warming her face, her eyes calling him a coward.
“I am sorry to have to do this.”
There was enough give in the chains on her wrists to allow her to eat, but she would not be able to reach him.
“I thought I should be ready,” he told her, giving her an intimate smile.
Once they were sure she was secured, the men stepped back. Sara jerked her arm up and said, “Boo!” and they all jumped. She smiled but it was more scary than charming. He jerked his head toward the door, the men filed out, the ones who could walk helping those who couldn’t yet, and finally they were alone. Her gaze met his and cooled to wary. She looked away, surveying the room. Her gaze lingered for a long moment on the large bed on the other side of the room.
“So, I’m guessing this is the Supreme Leader suite? I thought it would be more supreme.”
She had remarkable composure for a woman. There was no sign now of the furious battle she had waged for her freedom just minutes earlier. Now she looked bored.
“This outpost was built by the Garradians.”
She gave no sign she recognized the name.
“Miri’s people,” he added.
“Miri? That’s the chick who you say looks like me?” She looked around more slowly now, but still with that air of being bored.
He watched her carefully. “It is rumored to have many wonders, but the rooms that hide them can only be accessed with a key.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Bummer.”
She shifted, as if trying to get comfortable, but there was a pattern to the clinking that was suspicious. Then she started to tap the table with one finger, the sound random, as she continued to shift just enough to make the chains clink.
“So why don’t you g
et the key?”
“I think you have the key,” he said. That got her to stop and look at him.
Her brows arched in surprise. “I don’t even have a car key.”
He did not know what this car was.
“According to legend, Miri was the keeper of the key.”
Her brows arched. “If someone is the keeper of the key, then wouldn’t they, I don’t know, keep it?”
She started tapping the table again, but in a pattern, as if she were hearing one of her songs. It made him smile, remembering the way she had looked that night she sang. He had been content to try diplomatic means to get her, but when he had seen her with Fyn, smiling at that animal, seen the way he touched her well, the attack had been rash and not like him. Sara had been right about one thing. Men did not think clearly when their brains were clouded with desire.
She would not have come here alone. Gower had men searching, but it puzzled him. What could they be after that was worth such risk? He looked at what they had lost. Her face was turned away, her fiery hair falling forward against her pale skin. They had handed him a great prize. He would have her, he would get the key from her, and his opposition would be silenced. Then he would take back the galaxy. The tapping got louder and faster. She was trying to annoy him and it was working.
“Upon her death, she would have passed it on.” He had the upper hand, but she pretended she did not know it.
Now her head was moving to the song only she could hear. She clanked the chains to fit the pattern. Her hands tapped out a beat against the table. He grabbed her hands, stopping that sound.
Sara looked at him, her shoulders still rocking to the beat. “My parents died when I was eight. They didn’t pass anything on to me except red hair and a nasty temper.”
Then she jerked her hands free. She started beating against the table again, looking right at him, her eyes daring him to stop her again. He almost lost his temper. He felt it rising inside him, like a black tide, and that is when she looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent as a child.
“Am I bothering you?”