“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.
Don’t disappoint me, young man.
He didn’t want to. Kalian would consider their easy-going trust a sign of weakness, but Fyn wasn’t so sure. Something about the colonel demanded his respect. They’d be good allies, but the Ojemba didn’t make alliances. They relied only on themselves. Kalian believed that trust was something they couldn’t afford in a fight against an enemy that showed no mercy. For the first time, Fyn wondered if he was right about that.
So far the only one who didn’t seem to trust him was the one they called the SO, the security officer. He didn’t much care. He did care what Sara thought of him though he shouldn’t.
The Ojemba could leave you, but no one left them.
As interesting as the earth people were, Fyn was glad to reach the empty repair bay and have the doors hiss closed behind them. He needed to get accustomed to being around people again. He was also anxious to study her ship more carefully, though he only had limited access to any of the bays. Sara wore something similar to the Dusan disc that gave her access to the bay, before the door would open. It hung from a chain around her neck. They all seemed to have one, but they were different colors, probably different levels of security. The cards also had their likeness imprinted on them.
“All we’ll probably have time to do today is dismantle,” Sara said. “Briggs will want us to line the damaged parts up on either side, so he can determine if they
are scrap or salvageable.”
She opened the doors to a cabinet standing next to the craft, revealing rows of tools.
“Notice where you grab it, so you can put it back or Briggs will make me drop and give him fifty.”
Fyn looked at her, one brow arched. “What?”
“You’ve never heard of push-ups?”
He shook his head.
“Lucky you,” she said. “They’re—”
“Why don’t you show him, Captain?” The man dragged out her rank, almost mockingly.
Fyn turned toward the voice. Found a big man standing in the doorway. Fyn was taller, but not wider. This guy was really wide, with a square face, sun reddened skin and close cropped hair. His clothing was similar to Sara’s, that mottled fabric, that Carey called ABU’s, had told him was short for Airman Battle Uniform. It looked light-weight and comfortable.
Sara sighed, but Fyn noticed she didn’t retreat into cool, like she did with everyone else. She looked resigned, but her eyes were warm.
“Briggs. This is Fyn. Fyn, this is Master Sergeant Briggs, Retired. He’s attached to the wing as a Special Consultant.”
Fyn almost asked what they meant, but something in the way they looked at each other stopped him.
“I’m waiting, Donovan.”
Didn’t she out rank him? He was pretty sure he remembered that from Carey’s running commentary. But if he was retired, maybe that didn’t matter.
Sara sighed, but then she dropped to the ground, her legs out, her hands flat against the floor. She pushed up from the floor, clapped her hands, then caught herself before she hit the floor. She did this until she reached a ten count. She stopped and gave Briggs a hopeful look.
He sighed, signaled for her to get up, then strolled forward, circling the damaged ship, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Dang.” He looked at her. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. You fly like a girl.”
Sara grinned. “I crash like one, too.”
His bushy brows rose. “Suppose that means you broke a nail.”
She kind of shrugged and rubbed a finger along one of her fingernails.
This had the feel of an ongoing conversation between them.
“Living in a beauty parlor really messed you up.” His sharp gaze rested on her for a long moment. Was that worry that crept into his eyes? “You sure you’re up for this? Looks like you took a helluva hit.”
Sara patted her ship. “My bird would never hurt me.”
Her tone was light, and she didn’t look at Briggs until the silence got a bit too long. Then she turned, her eyes wide and innocent.
“What?”
“I hear you ran into a little trouble down there. And took one to the brain housing group in the crash.”
She angled her head toward him. “It’s just a scratch.”
Fyn started. She had more than a scratch when he pulled her from her ship.
Briggs didn’t say anything. For another long moment, they looked at each other.
Finally Briggs nodded. “Five kills up, three down. Only two headshots. Should have been three.”
She sighed. “I know.”
“You did okay for a girl, I guess.” He nodded toward her ship. “We’ll have to put a little row of ships up there. And some little stick aliens.”
Fyn had no idea what they were talking about, but Sara chuckled.
“So, how did you like your first dog fight?”
“Booming until I got shot down. They weren’t even that good. More about numbers than skill, don’t you think, Fyn?”
He nodded. The Dusan hadn’t had to be that good for a long time. With them it was always about numbers. You killed them and there was always more to throw into the fight.
‘You rode her all the way down.”
“Didn’t dare not. But if it weren’t for Fyn here, I’d have been ET’s house guest.”
Briggs gave him a look that might have been approving. Or not. It was hard to tell.
“Well, glad you’re back.” He didn’t look glad. “Hinson’s gooned up his computer again.”
“I’ll look at it.”
Sara followed Briggs to what Fyn now knew was a computer terminal. Briggs keyed something in, and the screen flashed with movement.
“I’ll see you at oh-six hundred tomorrow in the gym.”
Sara seemed to sigh. “You’re going to kick my ass, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight.” He nodded Fyn’s direction again. “Nice to meet you, Chewie.”
Fyn really needed to see that movie.
Sara began taping on the buttons. “This won’t take a minute. I don’t know how he manages to goon—that means mess up, his code.”
Fyn noticed that she had her hands on the keys, but it didn’t seem like she pushed them like the other people he’d seen. As he watched her, he had a feeling he was forgetting something—
“All done.”
She left the terminal. Behind her, the screen flickered a couple of times, then went dark. She stopped in front of him.
“So, that went better than I expected. Of course, there’s still tomorrow.”
“I thought you out ranked him?”
Sara’s eyes widened a bit. “I’m not really sure anymore, but even if he weren’t retired, no way I’d ever pull rank on him. I think the only person who dares is the Colonel and I’ve never seen it.”
“You’ve known him a long time?”
“Since my first bird.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
Fyn had a feeling there was a story there.
She looked up at him. “I guess it’s all kind of weird and confusing for you. Sorry about that.”
He shrugged.
“I keep forgetting we’ve only known each other, what, about a day? Seems longer.” Her smile was open and trusting.
Don’t, he wanted to tell her. Be careful who you trust. This isn’t a safe place. I’m not safe to know.
“Well, let’s get to it.”
She crouched down by her ship. He looked at her for a moment, wishing things were different. He’d thought he was dead inside, his real life ended when the Dusan took his home away. He’d met women since Fiona, lots of them, and had felt nothing when he looked at them, not even desire. Hate for the Dusan filled him out, pushing out everything else.
But this place, especially Sara—she was unlike anyone he’d met. She was a soldier, a warrior, but it was more than that. There was something else about her, something that penetrated his defenses like they weren’t there. He felt alive again, inside and out, brought back from the dead by the feel of her mouth against his—and a wariness buried deep in her eyes that seemed to tell him they were more alike than they were different. That she’d known loss, too, but had chosen a different way to deal with it.
“I’m thinking we should start here, with the blast damage.”
Her voice jerked him back into the moment and he didn’t mind. For now it was as if he’d left his past down on Kikk.
As she bent over her bird, he suddenly realized what was nagging at him. She’d set the self-destruct, but he didn’t remember her deactivating it. It was possible the jarheads took care of it but it was odd she hadn’t even mentioned it to them. Maybe it was SOP, too.
They worked mostly in silence, though Fyn’s thoughts were not at all quiet. He was very aware of her, working this close to her, their arms occasionally brushing together. Her scent teased his senses, too, and he didn’t realize he’d been sniffing until she spoke suddenly.
“It’s coconut.” She grinned.
“What?”
“My soap. That’s what you smell. It’s coconut. It’s a kind of…fruit, I think. Brown and hairy on the outside, with this white stuff on the inside. And milk stuff. In addition to adding scent to soap, its good eats, especially when paired with chocolate. I’ll have to find you a candy bar to try. They might still have one in the commissary.”
He focused on the part he was trying
to remove, very conscious of her lying next to him, as she loosened the bolts fastening the parts in place.
“Obviously I’m a fan of coconut in all its forms,” she added cheerfully.
She continued work for a bit, then stopped suddenly.
“I think I’m done. My eyes are crossing.”
She covered a yawn with a greasy hand, leaving black around her mouth.
She wiggled out from under the ship, but didn’t get up. Fyn slid out beside her. Her eyes were closed and she breathed so evenly, he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Even with the black on her face she was lovely. There was an innocence about her, like she was a package waiting to be opened. He should get up, but instead he stared at her. Exhaustion seemed to make the lines and angles of her face more sharply defined. He wanted to trace them, but he didn’t.
Suddenly her eyes opened.
“What? Do I have grease on my face? I do, don’t I?” She started to rub with the rag she’d been carrying and managed to smear it even more.
“Here,” he said, his voice husky, “let me. You’re making it worse.”
He sat up, took the rag and adjusted the tilt of her head, so he could see. He had no reason to feel like she belonged to him, but he still felt like she’d been sent to him. As he rubbed at the spots he was intensely aware of the feel of her skin and her pulse beating against his finger tips. He finished, but couldn’t bring himself to let go. She’d kept her lashes lowered the whole time and now he waited for her to look at him.
Maybe her eyes would tell him what to do next.
He felt her pulse speed up and then, when he thought she’d never look up, her lashes lifted. As her gaze met his, he saw what he’d been hoping to see. They were uncertain, but there was desire there, too. Even so, he approached slowly, giving her time to stop him. Just shy of her mouth, he stopped, wanting, no needing, more than compliance from her. She licked her lips, then touched the side of his face, her fingers tentative at first as they moved across his skin, leaving a trail of heat as they slid around to the back of his neck, bringing just enough pressure to close the gap.
He took it slow. Some things shouldn’t be rushed and this was one of them. When he finally lifted his head, her eyes were soft and warm. Her lips curved into a smile. Desire still simmered in her eyes, but there was amusement there, too.
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 179