Star Crossed

by C. Gockel

  “That’s Dusan territory there.” Donovan pointed to one sector. “The Gadi here. All this is the buffer the Gadi try to maintain between them and the Dusan. The flashing planets are the outposts, your new eyes and ears.”

  “I thought the Gadi and Dusan held those outposts. Won’t they be able to use them?”

  Donovan smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “They’re being evicted, sir.”

  In the Dusan sector he could see the build up. As he watched more ships popped up on the grid. He counted at least fifty.

  “I wonder what size the ships are—”

  The HUD changed, giving him a read out on each ships capability.

  “At least twenty-five are the big bad boys.” How many ships could the Gadi bring to the fight—

  The grid reformed, giving him an assessment of the Gadi capabilities.

  “Ten ships. If they work with us, that’s twelve ships.”

  The HUD changed again, and this time he could see the island outpost. He studied the weapons read out. Donovan was right. They had some serious crap down there, but it wasn’t an unlimited supply. The HUD changed again. Now he could see ship hangers.

  “Our people haven’t seen any hangers of this size, Captain. Where are these?”

  “Under the sea, sir.” She looked as wide-eyed as he felt. “Look what they can do.”

  “Am I reading this correctly?”

  “That’s what I’m reading, too. Holy crap.”

  The HUD changed again, giving him a breakdown on the smaller ships. There were about a hundred of those.

  “They aren’t as fast our ships, but they’ve got some good stuff,” Halliwell murmured.

  “Maybe Briggs could integrate some of their stuff into some of our ships?”

  He nodded. “If we can get the Gadi off our ass, we can look into it.” He thought about the galaxy grid and it reappeared. Even with what they’d found… “It still won’t be enough.”

  If it was just about one battle they had a chance to win it, but the Dusan could withdraw and return in greater numbers. As if to emphasize the point, the HUD changed, giving him population breakdown on the Dusan held planets.

  Donovan didn’t speak, just looked at him.

  “We could still withdraw.” He hated saying it.

  She nodded. “It would postpone the confrontation. I don’t think it will stop it. They know we’re out there. He won’t be satisfied with one galaxy now.”

  “What about all this?”

  “I can lock it again, sir.”

  “But you think we should stay and fight.”

  Donovan was quiet for a moment. “It’s not my place to say, sir. I just know that leaving the last time only made the problem worse. We’re going to have to stop them eventually.”

  “Based on what I’m seeing here, he’ll be ready to launch in a week to ten days tops. Only ship that could reach us in that time is the Boyington.” They’d come, but it would cut us off from earth.” If they lost…

  “Tops…” She frowned.

  What was she thinking?

  “Do you know what the Dusan reminded me of? The Soviet Union. Supreme Leader. The top dog.”

  He was with her now. “You think if we could take out Xever, the attack would collapse.”

  “Or at least cause enough confusion to tilt the odds in our favor.”

  He studied the idea. “I can’t see the Supreme leader risking his supreme ass in the fight.”

  “No.” Donovan seemed to sigh and her face hardened. “Unless there was something he really wanted that he couldn’t risk someone else getting.”

  She looked at him, her chin slightly lifted. When she set her mouth, when she was being really stubborn, her lower lip jutted out and the edges pulled down. It made her look determined, but also sad.

  The fact that she didn’t get her own appeal only upped it.

  He stared at her for a long moment, seeing not just a pilot, but a young woman. When she’d sang for his dinner, she’d kept it soft, but everyone had stayed silent, listening, as if they couldn’t help themselves. She’d just gotten married—and looked happy for the first time in his memory of her. Most of his people were young and willing to put their lives on the line. But she’d be putting more than her life on the line.

  “If we lost—”

  “That would suck.” She smiled now.

  She paused, then said, almost too evenly, “Adin wants the outposts, he wants to control the tech. If he didn’t get it before we came, he gets it now. It’s more power for him. He’s going to be particularly ticked right now, because I kicked his ass off all of those outposts. He’s got nothing but his big ships and men he’s forcing into the fight. You and I know that free men fight harder and better than conscripts.”

  She paused, as if thinking.

  “If he found out I wasn’t dead, that he got tricked by a woman—I’m thinking he’d be very motivated to come. Maybe too pissed to think clearly.”

  “We’ve got no way to let him know, Captain.”

  “I’ll bet the Gadi have sources.”

  She looked at him calmly, but all he could think about was how she’d looked telling Briggs her story. How she’d rocked back and forth at just mentioning Xever’s name, her face drawn and white, her eyes still haunted by some horror she couldn’t put into words. He thought about the women they’d left behind and their blank eyes.

  He hesitated, but it had to be said. “We both know Xever doesn’t just want tech and weapons. He wants you. You don’t have to do this.”

  She may have paled a bit. “Be a good time for him to learn he can’t always get what he wants.”

  It was the beginnings of a plan, though he still didn’t like it. They’d have to draw Xever away from the main battle. To one of the outposts?

  “I’ll get our people together. We have time before the big visit. I’ll need to confer with Emerson. I’ll try to protect you as much as I can, Donovan.”

  “I know you will, sir. And I know the mission comes first.”

  She smiled. Didn’t mention the honeymoon she wasn’t getting.

  “You’re a good soldier, Donovan.”

  She smiled, a real smile, not the soldier smile.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re dismissed. If I need you, or I need the HUD—”

  “You can think the HUD back anytime, sir. Me, you’ll have to call on the radio.” She came to attention, saluted, then turned and left.

  Donovan was right. Xever would never risk anyone else getting control of her. He’d come himself. She wasn’t just the right bait, she was the only bait that would work.

  Sara headed for her quarters feeling slammed from too much to process too quickly. Her brain-housing group was still sorting through all the data she’d uploaded from Miri, but the hardest to get past was Miri’s assertion that Sara had done it.

  “We all have conscious and unconscious desires, Sara,” she’d told her. “Because of the nanites, you were able to do something about your unconscious ones.”

  “But why wouldn’t I answer my own questions?”

  “You didn’t really want to know the answers then, but now you do.”

  “So, you’re just something I wanted and conjured up?”

  “To some extent. I built this system, so it knows me very well, or you couldn’t have done it.”

  “So, you’re just Miri’s hologram?”

  “I’m as close to it as the system can make me.”

  Which was still closer than Sara had been to her mom in twenty years. Seeing her like that had unlocked Sara’s real memories of her mom and the man she’d called dad. It was hard, but in a good way. She just wished she’d been old enough to tell if Miri—Miriam was her earth name—had been really happy with Kyle Donovan. She’d like to know her mom found, not just safe harbor, but real love. Since she’d turned the key Sara felt like a light bulb that had been turned on. She felt connected in so many directions. It was way weird, but made for great situational awa
reness.

  She ducked into the head and studied her face, but she didn’t glow or anything. She didn’t look married either. She did look hammered. Wasn’t sure there’d be time to feel married or get less hammered before it all hit the fan.

  And she needed to figure out how to explain it to Fyn.

  Fyn was not going to be happy. She had a feeling the nightmares wouldn’t be going away any time soon either. The Old Man had been more than decent about everything, but she might still find herself a lab rat, which would really suck. And her head still ached, either from getting slammed or thinking too much. She exited the head, rounded a corner and came face to face with Hawkins.

  She stopped. “Hi.”

  His face lit up. “Hey, I was hoping I’d run into you. Got time for a cuppa go juice?”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.” She tried to think of a way to explain, but couldn’t. “You going to be at the Gadi reception?”

  “If I got an invite, I haven’t seen it yet.” He studied her face for a moment. “So are they here about the Miri thing?”

  Sara kind of shrugged. “Maybe. Probably. Yeah.”

  “Well, if you need someone to run interference for you, be happy to oblige.”

  “That’s sweet. But I have someone—have you met Fyn?”

  “Chewie? Yeah, just a bit ago. He’s flying your bird. He’s big. Didn’t seem to like me much.”

  Sara smiled. “He’ll warm up to you in time. Probably. Maybe.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh. You and him…”

  Sara nodded. “Sorry.”

  No one had said if she could tell anyone she was married. That seemed like a huge oversight. She made a pass through the infirmary to get something for her headache, then stopped and got something to eat. There was no one she knew, so she got to sit alone. Which wasn’t as good as she’d thought it would be. Then Briggs called her on the radio and asked her to un-goon a flight computer for her. She didn’t get back to her quarters until she had forty-five minutes to get ready for the Gadi leader’s arrival. She could have used a few days. Or months. Even years would have been nice. She dug in the cabinet and found her clean ABU’s just as someone buzzed her door. It was Fyn.

  “Hi.” Her heart jumped in her chest. It must have slammed into her lungs, because breathing got difficult. The look in his eyes didn’t help.

  He stepped inside and closed the door. “Can you lock that?”

  Yes, but why…

  She licked her lips. “I have to get ready for the thing.”

  “We got a half hour to spare.”

  “Do we?” To do what?

  His brows arched. “It going to take you more than fifteen to pull on ABU’s and gear up?”

  She shook her head. Her throat was suddenly too dry to talk. It felt oddly warm in her room.

  “That’s what I thought.” He shifted closer.

  Sara shifted back. The cabinet felt thankfully cool against her back, but it did limit further shifting. Fyn put one hand on the cabinet by her face and leaned in, his lips curving in a sort of half smile.

  Oh.

  Sara licked her lips again. “I’m not sure I’m ready I don’t feel that married yet. I might need—” She actually didn’t know what she’d need. A few words from the padre suddenly didn’t seem enough to take her from ‘no, I’m not that kind of girl’ to ‘go for it, hot guy.’

  He grinned. “I can make you feel married.”

  “What’s the big rush?” Okay, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She felt color rush her face.

  His brows arched and his grin got…grinnier.

  “We only have half an hour.” She swallowed dryly. Her insides quivered. “Will that be enough time?”

  “Well, that depends.” He ran a finger down the side of her face, setting off little earthquakes of quivers. Her middle got spongy, too.

  Her eyes widened. “On what?”

  He grinned. “On how hard you make me work to get you from here to there…” He nodded toward the bed.

  “Oh.” She looked at the bed for a minute, then looked at him. She felt all strange and fluid. Not like herself at all. Still a bit nervous, but also curious. Curiously eager maybe.

  “Well,” she smiled, “I’ve never been easy, but I might—” She touched his chest, her fingers spreading on contact, “—be open to persuasion…”

  Fyn applied some persuasion to her mouth. It was so convincing, she didn’t realize she was moving until her back hit the bed…

  Fyn kissed Sara’s bare shoulder and saw the color run into her face again. She tasted good. Felt good. Smelled good and after what they’d just done, could still blush. Dang. He hadn’t planned this, but suddenly he couldn’t wait to stake his claim, to make her so much his, nothing could pull them apart.

  “Okay, so that was seriously pleasant.” Her voice was drowsy and contented.

  “Pleasant?” He pulled her onto her back, so he could see her face.

  Her eyes were innocent, but wicked was buried deep in there.

  “I did say seriously pleasant, did I not?” She bit her lower lip for a moment, her lashes hiding her eyes. One finger traced a pattern on his bare chest. “Do you think there’s time to do it again?”

  Fyn looked at her clock. “Okay.”

  He bent toward her, but her intercom buzzed insistently. He’d have ignored it, but Sara sighed.

  “It might be the Old Man.” She rolled toward it, pulling a sheet up around her, then tapped the button.

  “Donovan.”

  “This is Kilburn. Before you cut me off, I know I’m dead to you, Captain, but the Colonel wants everyone who will be at the dinner to go over the protocols given to us by the Gadi.”

  Fyn pulled at the edge of the sheet, but before the view got too interesting, she caught it. She gave him a look, pulling it back up—like he hadn’t already seen what she had. A little late to turn shy. Her color kept coming and going. Was it only her face or did she blush everywhere?

  Her elbow snapped down, shoving the edge of the sheet back down before he could find out.

  She pushed the button. “Fine. I can meet you at—”

  “I’m outside your quarters right now. Where are you?”

  Fyn tugged on the sheet, but she had a good grip on it now. Maybe he could find a way around it…

  “I’m not dressed, sir.” She jumped and pushed his hand away. “Can’t we do this later?”

  “I have about twenty people to brief, Captain.”

  Sara sighed. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

  She sagged back, her gaze met Fyn’s and widened again. Color surged into her face, probably more than he’d ever seen.

  “Oh, crap, I don’t suppose you’d fit in the closet, would you?”

  He leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head, and grinned at her.

  “You have to get up. And help me find my clothes. And get your clothes on.”

  “He doesn’t need to brief me.”

  She gave him a look. “Don’t even go there. And don’t stay there.”

  She pulled the sheet more firmly around her, then bent to grab her scattered clothes.

  He pointed at something she’d called a bra, hanging by the edge of the cabinet. “Want me to get that for you?”

  He got some of his clothes in the face. By the time he’d pulled them off, he only caught a glimpse of her smooth, straight back before she pulled a shirt down. She looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him. He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her back down on the bed.

  “He’s waiting.” But her eyes were soft and her mouth was already parting for his kiss.

  “I know.” He smoothed her hair back off her face, then bent and kissed her. Her mouth clung to his for a moment.

  “I love you,” she said. “You were great. Quite possibly perfect.”

  “With a little more practice, you will be, too.” If he could have kept from grinning, it would have played better.

  “You better hope you don�
�t draw me for a throw down today, punk.” She twisted away, somehow managing to get her legs to the floor and get out of his reach. And how had she managed to get her pants on without him seeing?

  She sat down on the stool. “Your turn. Husband.” She propped her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands.

  If she thought he’d be embarrassed…

  He threw the covers back and sat up. As he pulled on his shirt, he caught her peeking. If he hadn’t seen it, her color would have given her away.

  “I can go slower if you want.”

  She spun around, showing him her back. “Just get dressed.”

  In a few he said, “I’m ready.”

  She stood up and looked him over. “We need to straighten the bed.”

  “He’ll still know, Sara.”

  “I know.”

  “We’re married.”

  “He doesn’t know that.”

  “So, tell him.”

  “The Old Man didn’t say if we could tell anyone.”

  She flipped the covers up, did a last look, then tried to edge past him to get to the door. Fyn made her give up another kiss—not that she objected. Then he sank down on the edge of the bed.

  “You can’t sit there.”

  “If I don’t, Kilburn will have to. There’s only the stool.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lower lip. “Right.”

  He could see her trying to pull it together, trying to do her retreat and get calm thing. It didn’t seem to be working.

  “Crap.” She looked at him. “Lose the grin.”

  But he could see her trying not to grin now. She shook her head, like she gave up, and released the door. Her cheeks were red beacons.

  “Come in, sir.”

  “Thank you, Captain—”

  He stopped in the doorway. Now his face turned red.

  Fyn nodded a greeting. “Kilburn.”

  Kilburn looked at Sara. Her chin went up.

  “You remember Fyn, don’t you, sir?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t seem to know where to look.

  Sara edged past Kilburn and sat down on the bed next to Fyn. It was a pleasantly tight fit. Fyn put his arm around her. He thought she’d push him off, but she surprised him by looking at him with a small, briefly heated smile.