And then to do it—and do it with him so close, so intent on her. Pain as the knife bit into her wrist, followed by the warm rush of blood. Change hands, sharp fear the damaged wrist couldn’t do the next cut. A moment of relief. Then the struggle to stay conscious until it was too late…
She stared straight ahead. “I sat there dying right in front of him and he didn’t even notice until it was too late. Lucky for me he was a delta sierra.”
“How—” Briggs stopped.
“I told him a story.” She looked at him. “The story of Masada. Even with that punch line, he didn’t realize—” She kind of smiled, remembering the look on his face when she told him to scrape her life off the floor. He didn’t see that one coming. She frowned. “I tried to stab him with the knife, but I was too weak by then. That was a missed opportunity.”
Briggs’ breathing sounded kind of harsh.
“So then I died—large gap until I woke up here. Not dead. That was pretty weird.”
Sara took a shaky breath, and then looked at him.
“So, they can take me off suicide watch. Didn’t want to do it, didn’t enjoy it, and don’t want to do it again.”
“So, what you been doing with your sleeping pills?”
Sara grinned and made a flipping motion.
Briggs grinned, but still asked, “So, why don’t you want to sleep?”
Sara looked away. “I do want to sleep—just not with pills.” She’d beat Adin on the outpost. She’d find a way to beat him in her dreams, too. “Other than being a bit weirded out over the whole, not dying thing, I’m freaking sierra hotel. Nothing happened.”
So why did it feel like something had happened? Why did she feel wounded? To be free of Adin, she needed to answer that question.
He studied her for a long moment and she let him. If he believed her, so would everyone else.
“Then why won’t you see Fyn?”
Sara inhaled sharply, painfully. She looked away.
“You know he’ll understand—”
“I know.” That lump in her chest hardened again. “It’s just that I think I saw his wife there.”
“His wife? He has a wife?” Briggs gaze narrowed dangerously.
“When his planet was over run, he didn’t know what happened to her. It’s been a long time…”
A long time to be there. It was looking at her that gave Sara the needed incentive to force that knife into her own flesh. She didn’t want to look like that, didn’t want to become her, looking at Adin, grateful for a kind word after he’d already moved on, leaving her to others’ un-tender mercies. The worse part, she wasn’t sure Adin was wrong. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have given in. It had taken all her strength of will not to respond to his kiss. Her hands clenched into fists as she remembered the soft, but soulless feel of his mouth moving on hers. It was clever of him to pretend to be kind.
“I don’t know how to tell him what they did to her.”
Briggs was quiet so long, she finally looked up. He was frowning.
“Did you know that the Dusan left some women behind when they withdrew from the outpost?”
“They just left them? Nice.”
Fiona was here. And Fyn didn’t know. Fyn was Fyn. He’d take care of Fiona. If he wasn’t that kind of man, she wouldn’t love him. She loved him. She’d been so afraid to admit it to herself and now it seemed like the easy thing to deal with. She didn’t know why she’d been such a wuss about it.
“How are they?”
“I don’t know.”
Sara’s chest ached with the tears she refused to cry.
“It might not be her, you know.”
Sara nodded. “I know.” But somehow she was sure it was. “I wonder if—” she stopped.
“What?”
“If she wants to see him.” Sara looked at him. “I wouldn’t. If I was her, I’d just want to, well, we already know my choice, don’t we?”
“Was it really that bad?” Briggs asked.
“Have you seen them? No,” she said, before he could answer. “If you had, you wouldn’t have to ask. You’d know.” She only had to close her eyes to see Fiona’s dead eyes again, her bent, shuffling walk. The other woman with the bruise on her cheek.
“Fyn’s out there, you know. It was his idea that I come talk to you.”
“He’s probably hoping you’ll make me drop and give you twenty.” She dug up a smile from somewhere. “I guess I’d better see him.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this?”
She wasn’t, but Sara did what she always did, she bluffed. If she did it good, then she’d bluff herself, too. And if she believed it, then it must true, right?
“Sure.” She looked at the camera. “Do you think they’d turn that off before he comes in?” As she looked, the red light winked off. It was a relief. “Thanks for coming. Hope I’ll be back up there soon.”
He grinned at her. “You will be.” He touched her shoulder with his big fist. “Bravo Zulu, Tall Girl.”
Sara smiled, feeling the ache ease a bit. “Thanks.”
She watched him walk to the door and open it. She saw him nod to Fyn. She saw him step aside and Fyn take his place. She dug up another smile, as the ache around her heart made it hurt to breath.
“Hi.” Her voice was too bright, too loud. Reminded her of the cave.
He stood by the door, studying her for a long moment. Sara felt her smile falter and tears burned the edges of her eyes. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t realize some tears had breached containment until she felt them hit her hands, hot and wet. In three strides he closed the gap and gathered her into his arms. Sara didn’t have time to stop him. With her head against his beating heart, she finally felt all the way back, all the way alive. Surely it wasn’t bad to just say good-bye? She didn’t realize how bad her containment had been breached until she tried to look at him and couldn’t see him.
“I’m not crying. I’m leaking,” she said, her voice shaky. “Sorry.”
He loosened his grip, but it was just so he could find her mouth. Sara tried to stop him, but he didn’t notice. His mouth on hers was a stolen delight. She could taste the salt of her tears and him, she could taste him. When he lifted his head, she was leaking bad. She tried to wipe the tears away, but he grabbed her hands.
“Let me.” He found some tissues and dabbed at her face.
Sara closed her eyes and started her retreat.
“Don’t do that, Sara,” he warned her, his voice grim.
“I have to tell you something.”
“Whatever happened there—”
“Fyn! Please. Just listen.” She opened her eyes, her retreat in shambles. She touched his face, just with the tips of her fingers, then curled them into a fist. “I think your wife, Fiona, is one of the women from the outpost.”
He froze. “Fiona?”
Sara nodded.
He looked stunned. “Fiona.”
“I’m so sorry—I didn’t know they’d brought them here until just now. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you I saw her there—”
He looked at her, his voice very quiet. “Tell me what?”
Sara hesitated. “She was a slave. That’s what they do to women captives.”
His face hardened. “A slave?”
She nodded. “She may not want to see you right away. I think it was pretty bad.”
He stood up and looked at her. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. Finally he said, “I have to try to see her. You know I do.”
She nodded again. He touched her face and Sara grabbed his hand and held it against her cheek for a long moment. Then she let him go. She made herself look up at him.
“If I can help, let me know. We’re friends right?” She dug up one more smile and hoped that would be it. She was tapped out on smiles.
He stared at her, like he was memorizing something. Then he turned and left.
Part Three
Chapter Eleven
&
nbsp; Sara was afraid that everyone knew about what happened to her, but apparently what happened on the island stayed on the island. Her return to the ship was remarkably ordinary. The scars on her wrists were almost gone. She felt sort of normal, though it was a new normal—one without Fyn. He’d stayed on the island. Last she’d heard, Fiona still wouldn’t see him, but the shrink was trying to work with them.
She still had the nightmares, but at least she was back into her own routine. Her strength slowly returned and Briggs started kicking her ass again in the mornings she wasn’t on alert.
She’d had to face the Old Man and that had been tense. He’d been uncomfortable and uneasy…like a guy.
“I’m fine, sir,” she finally said. “Really.” Her years in hiding stood her in good stead. She knew how to look fine.
He’d looked at her for what seemed like a long time, but finally he nodded.
“Okay, but if you have problems, get help. None of that stiff upper lip crap.”
“Yes, sir.”
He’d hesitated and finally asked, “Are you up to providing some dinner music? I’m having Emerson and some of his staff over from the Patton in a couple of days. If you’re not—”
“I’d be honored, sir.”
“Something quiet?”
“Absolutely.”
“And your dress blues?”
“Wouldn’t think of wearing anything else, sir.”
Did he look disappointed? Sara didn’t know if she could wear her red dress without thinking of Adin, which really sucked. Bad enough he still ruined her sleep. When he dismissed her, she’d walked with a lighter step to her bird, sinking down in the seat with deep relief. Here she knew who she was and what she was supposed to do. For a few days, it seemed as if her adventures with the city were over. She didn’t feel any particular pull to return. Maybe her days as a key were done. And she was booming with the band again. That helped a lot. She could slide into the music and just forget it all. It wasn’t exactly as before. She wasn’t completely invisible, but she wasn’t center stage either. It was a bit of a surprise when she still got invited to girls’ poker night and she didn’t sit alone at meals as often. No one asked her about Fyn because he was on the island. Last she’d heard the science expedition had been visiting the other outpost, but she deliberately avoided snooping in the computers for information.
When she got off duty, she headed into the repair bay and found Briggs bent over a Dauntless drive, cursing a blue streak. He didn’t stop when he saw her. It was actually a compliment.
“What’s the problem?” Sara studied the drive over his shoulder, well, the part she could see. She thought it was an interesting feature of her freakiness, that she could take them apart and put them back together, but the theory behind them, why they worked completely baffled her.
“If I knew that, it would be fixed,” Briggs said, with a snap. “According to the computer, there’s nothing wrong. Except the son’bitch won’t start.”
Sara looked at the computer, reluctant to start that whole connection thing again.
“Maybe there’s a problem with the diagnostic program,” she said. She walked to the terminal and sat down, her hands on the keys for show. She tapped in and her brain went through the code, while she sort of drifted. Suddenly she felt a sort of mental jerk, as if someone or some thing had just nudged her. She looked at the screen. Code was flashing past, then it stopped and the program rebooted. She started the diagnostic again and this time it pinpointed the problem precisely.
“It was the program,” Sara said. “There’s your problem, in the upper chamber of the drive.”
He came over and looked at it, nodded, then went back to work.
Sara sat there staring at the screen. That was very odd. There was no reason for the program to go down like that. It was almost as if it did it on purpose. She started to get up and the screen changed, words appearing one letter at a time.
You are the key.
Sara closed her eyes. I don’t want to be the key.
No response.
What do you want from me?
Turn the key.
Sara blinked at that and then the screen was back to the Brigg’s program. Crap.
She pushed back the stool. “I’m gonna go get a gut bomb. If you don’t need me anymore?”
He grunted, his head almost inside the engine.
Sara left, but instead of the cafeteria, she went to her quarters and sat on the bed.
Turn the key.
What did that mean? If she was the key, how did she turn herself? Or would that be, what did she turn herself into?
* * * * *
Sara hadn’t met anyone from the Patton, though she’d noticed them around. As she set up her keyboard in the formal dining room for the old man’s dinner party, she found herself wondering about who would be coming and if they’d seen the video of her “walking” on the table. If they had, she hoped they wouldn’t mention it. Ignorance really was bliss.
The Old Man wanted her to play for about two hours, so she set her watch to buzz discreetly when her time was up. Sometimes, when she played, she lost track of time. She also adjusted the volume on her keyboard to a conversation friendly level. The only thing she wasn’t sure about, did the Old Man want her to be playing when they arrived? Luckily he arrived before his guests.
“You haven’t met Colonel Emerson, have you, Donovan?”
“No, sir.”
“Nervous?”
“A little. I don’t usually play by myself in front of people.”
A small silence fell, then he asked, “You okay?”
She flushed. “Yes, sir. I’m good.”
It was awful knowing he knew. Made her better understand why rape victims didn’t come forward. She’d have been showering twice a day if the regs allowed it.
Luckily the contingent from the Patton arrived, distracting attention from her, at least that kind of attention.
The Old Man introduced her to his counter part first, then Emerson introduced her to his staff. One of his men, a guy named Hawkins, gave her a cheeky movie star smile and it seemed he held onto her hand a little longer than the others. She took it back and looked at the Old Man, her brows lifted.
“Please, Captain.”
It was a relief to retreat to her keyboard. As per his request, all the songs were soft and slow. She moved easily from one to another, her mind making the needed adjustments to her keyboard, if the song needed more fill than just piano. The music took her in, an old and familiar friend. She didn’t have to think or feel anything but it. She was surprised when her watch buzzed. It hadn’t felt like she’d been playing that long. She finished her song and lifted her hands from the keys, glancing over her shoulder to see what the Old Man wanted her to do—
Everyone was looking at her.
She shifted nervously. “Was I playing too loud, sir?”
“No, Captain. We were just enjoying it.”
“Oh.” She hesitated. “You said two hours, sir. It’s been two hours. But I can play more—”
“That won’t be necessary. You’re dismissed with our thanks.”
She got up and headed for the door. Hawkins got up, too, and followed her out.
“Donovan?”
Sara stopped and turned, her brows arched.
“Can I buy you a cuppa go juice?”
Sara didn’t drink coffee this time of night, but his smile was friendly. He was nice-looking. Clean features, crisp military style and a nice smile. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Total opposite of Fyn. She should do this. Fyn was married. She needed to at least try to move on. She made the edges of her mouth turn up.
“Thanks.” At least she wasn’t taller than he was. It was a nice change.
He chatted easily as they walked along. Soon they were settled at a table in the cafeteria, Sara with hot chocolate, Hawkins with a cup of coffee.
“I really enjoyed the music. Hope I get to see you and your bubbas boom sometime.”
Sh
e smiled, trying to relax.
“So, I hear you also dance. Where did you learn it and how do you find the time?”
Sara grinned. “That is a very long, probably boring story.”
He leaned toward her with a smile. “I doubt that.”
Sara shifted a bit, as she flashed on Adin leaning toward her. Time to get the attention off her, ask him something. “So, how do you like the galaxy?”
“Tell the truth, I thought it would be a bit more exciting.” He tipped his head to the side. “You’ve seen some action?”
“Yeah, right after we got here.” Did he know she’d been shot down? She might as well admit it. “I got splashed—a real girl crash first time out.”
He looked surprised. “That’s not what I heard. I hear you got some serious brass ones—for a girl.” He grinned.
Sara was surprised to hear herself chuckle. It helped her insides relax a bit.
“So, you think we’ll see some action? We’re all wondering why we’re just sitting here?”
He didn’t know about the outpost. Of course he didn’t know. She shouldn’t know.
“I thought the plan was to explore, go where no man has gone before?”
“So far this hasn’t been a real friendly neighborhood. If we could see around the corners—” Sara felt something…click in head. Turn the key. She remembered the outpost planets, winding through the galaxy like a figure eight. Was that what they did? Extend the view? She felt a warm hand cover hers and with a blink returned to the cafeteria.
“Hello?”
“Sorry, just remembered something.” She looked down at his hand, a bit puzzled by the sight. “The Dusan aren’t good fighters, but they’re like roaches. You step on one and twenty more pop out of the woodwork.”
“But we beat them.”
He started to rub his thumb along the side of her wrist.
Sara looked at him, then carefully took back her hand. She wasn’t ready for that yet. She smiled to soften her withdrawal. “I have to go. I’m on duty in six. Thanks for the cuppa.”
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 197