“Damn.” Briggs walked up and poked it. “Damn.”
Carey looked at Halliwell. “Can I try it?”
Halliwell sighed in silent relief. “That’s the plan, Colonel.”
A ramp lowered from the rear and Donovan emerged.
“Any problems, Captain?”
“No, sir. Our guys should be able to fly them, though the…ascent is pretty interesting.”
“Good enough.” He turned to Carey. “Get some pilots together. We got a bunch of them to bring up.”
Carey grinned. “Sweet.”
* * * * *
Sara brought the Garradian fighter ship into the repair bay, turned off the cloak and shut off propulsion. She released the hatch and walked out to where Briggs was waiting.
Briggs patted the hull. “She’s a nice little ship. I hate to be the one to take her down.”
Sara eased her cramped muscles. “Where do we want to start?”
Briggs eyebrows rose. “We? Colonel wants to see you. Your escort is waiting out there.”
“My escort?”
“Colonel says don’t give them a hard time.” He turned, his attention already off her and on the problem at hand.
Could he get the alien systems to work with their craft? It would give them a great advantage, if they could do it and do it in time.
Outside, Sara found four jarheads waiting to take her to the colonel. She didn’t feel protected, as they moved through the ship, she felt under arrest.
Now that she was back on the ship, it was impossible not to think about Fyn and what had happened. Where was he right now? She didn’t tap into the computers to find out. Now that the colonel knew she could do it, it felt…wrong.
The jarheads stopped outside the wardroom. The Old Man looked up when she entered and came to attention.
“Good work, Captain.” He stood up and came around his desk. “At ease.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of his desk. “Give me an update.”
“We’ve got fifty of the fighters aboard and about twenty-five on the surface. Briggs is starting to work on his. We should be able to bring the big ones up whenever we want.”
“How many do we need to operate them in a battle situation?”
“According to the Garradians, a minimum of ten, but at least twenty is better. A full compliment is around one thousand. It seems to be comparable in size to the Doolittle.”
“How do they compare with our ships weapons-wise? Could one of them take us out?”
Sara blinked, wondering what he was planning.
“With the modifications my nanites made to our shields, no, sir.”
“What about the Patton?”
“I updated their stuff when I raised their shields the other day.”
Halliwell stared at her for a long moment. “You’re the reason our stuff worked in the first place, aren’t you? The reason we’re out here.”
Sara’s eyes widened. She shook her head. “No…” She hesitated. “Well maybe…” She thought about it. Actually, she might be. “Sorry, sir.”
She wasn’t sure why she was apologizing, just felt like she should…to someone.
He looked up and gave her a colonel’s version of a smile, which meant his lips stretched a bit.
“I want you to assist Briggs—”
Sara nodded.
“—in the morning. Get some rest. You look like you could use it.”
Rest, she didn’t need rest. She needed information. She needed…Fyn.
“I’m fine, sir.”
“That wasn’t a request, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.” Sara didn’t move.
His brows arched. “Was there something else?”
“I was wondering about…”
“Oh, that’s right. The water. Your quarters are still being cleaned out. I had someone move your stuff into one of the high security guest rooms. And as long as you’re aboard this ship, you’ll have a security detail. No arguments.”
“Thank you, sir, but I was wondering about Fyn.” She dropped the name into the room as gently as if it were a bomb. It wasn’t easy to keep her face neutral.
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been down on the island since…” She lifted her chin. “I was wondering if I could see him.”
Did he look amused?
“I don’t see the problem. If he’s not in your quarters, I would imagine he’s in the cafeteria.”
Sara felt her jaw drop and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
“I assumed you’d want to live with your husband. Was I wrong?”
Though his tone was almost noncommittal, Sara felt like the question was weighted. He wanted to know if she trusted him.
She closed her mouth and her chin went up. “Yes, sir, I mean, no sir, you weren’t wrong. I…do people know we’re married?”
“I believe the news is making its way through the ship. Might have been something I said.”
Sara came to attention and saluted sharply, but she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. “Thank you, sir.”
“I want you in the repair bay at 0600.”
“Yes, sir.”
Outside the wardroom, it was a good thing her detail knew where she was going. Sara made the trip in a hazy mix of emotions. She was happy. She was nervous. She was confused. She thought she’d be visiting him in the brig. Or the colonel could have tossed him off the ship.
She arrived way too quickly and with her detail watching, she didn’t dare hesitate at the door.
Inside, the room was empty.
She was relieved.
She was disappointed.
She sank down on the desk stool and looked around. The room was larger than her other quarters and even had a small living room area. Really small. Two soft chairs on either side of a postage stamp table. A plastic plant perched on the table. The desk had two stools, so it probably doubled as a table. She peeked in the closet. Her clothes were on one side, Fyn’s on the other. All her stuff was here, all neatly stowed away.
The bed was a double and there was another door—that’s right. Guests got their own head and shower, though if she remembered correctly they were smaller than a postage stamp.
Still, a shower would be nice. She pulled off her ABU jacket and tossed it on one of the chairs, then sat down and took her boots off.
She tilted her head. Was that water running? Where…
She padded over and listened.
Fyn must be in there. Showering. He was showering. With no clothes on. Water running down his skin…
She backed up until she hit a wall, well, the door. He wouldn’t be long. Even in the guest quarters, the showers had pre-set timers.
She couldn’t let him find her plastered to a wall. She looked around. Soft chairs looked too soft. She sank down on the stool, her back straight, legs together, and hands on knees. Okay, quit gripping knees. Lower legs needed blood, too.
The door opened and he was in the room, before she could inhale. Or exhale.
He had a towel hooked low on his hips and was using another to dry his hair. With his head engulfed in towel, he hadn’t seen her yet.
He looked good. Really, really good. Lots of smooth, muscled, tanned skin.
She inhaled sharply.
His body tensed, then he lowered his hands, letting the towel settle on his shoulders, and looked at her. His eyes widened. How did he feel about her being here?
Fyn stared at Sara. Was she real? She must be, because when he imagined her in this room, she wasn’t sitting on a stool.
She looked like she was bracing for a blow.
She swallowed and then licked her lips. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He should say something else. “What are you doing here?”
Okay, that sounded hostile.
Color surged into her face. Her chin lifted. “Apparently I live here.”
Was she happy about that? Or not? She looked down and rubbed her face. Then her
chin lifted.
“I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me to.”
He jerked and had to stop himself from reaching out to her. He sank down on the bed. She looked at him for a long moment.
“I wanted to tell you—”
She stopped. “I’m sorry.”
She was sorry?
“I had no right to bust your chops about not trusting us.” Her hands twisted in her lap. “It just hit me how little we really knew about each other. They all wanted me because of Miri. It was…easy to believe that could be the only reason you’d want me, too.” She gave a shaky sigh. “Evie warned me I’d probably have trust issues.” She shrugged. “She hasn’t been wrong yet.”
Finally he knew what she was talking about.
“You’re sorry you didn’t trust me?”
She frowned, and nodded.
“But I didn’t tell you about Kalian.”
“I know.” She looked down again. “I don’t know what I’d have done in your shoes. You were dealing with stuff and I didn’t do…”
“What could you have done?” The tightness around his chest was beginning to ease.
“Something.” She looked up. “Some…thing.” She started to smile.
She had done something. She’d let him into her life, into her heart.
“If I’d told you, that enforcer wouldn’t have gotten so close to you.”
“You don’t know that. Who would expect an Ojemba agent to be on the Leader’s personal pretty boy bird?” She looked down again. “Is he dead?”
“Yes.” Fyn looked at her, trying to figure out what she was feeling.
“I didn’t want to kill him.”
“You did what you had to do.”
She looked at him again. “I kept thinking, what if he was someone like you?”
She really wasn’t mad at him. He couldn’t quite believe it.
“Did they get the other guy?”
Fyn nodded. He wanted to grab and hold her, but his mouth kept talking. “How did you get down on the island?”
Sara shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure. I’ve been able to do some pretty weird ass things since I turned the key.”
Fyn straightened. “Turned the key?”
Sara looked at him, her lips slowly turning up at the edges. “I had a busy day yesterday. I was going to tell you later, but we got distracted.”
Fyn blinked a couple of times. “How did you get back here without the Gadi seeing you?”
“In a cloaked, Garradian ship I flew up here.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
“Up from where?”
He wished his mouth would shut up and kiss her.
“From hangers on the ocean floor.”
She grinned at him, but it faded into sober and she stood up. He did, too. She tilted her head back to look at him.
“It didn’t seem right being there without you on my six.”
It really was all right. He could see it in her eyes as her mouth curved invitingly. He touched the side of her face, his hand spreading across her soft, smooth skin.
“I do like your six,” he said, his voice husky.
“Next time I turn into a delta sierra, you need to call me on it. It’ll be good for my character.”
“I did notice.” Fyn slid his hands into her hair, still amazed he could. “I just thought I deserved it.”
“You did.” She grinned. “But I did, too.” Her hands settled on his bare chest. “I need a shower, but when I come out, I’d be happy to tell you all about it as long as you promise to explain why you’re not in the brig.”
“Okay.” He wished he could join her in the shower, but he almost got stuck in there when he was by himself.
Her eyes softened, as if she knew what he was thinking. He hoped she did. Her mouth curved up again.
“I really am sorry, Fyn. It’s my stupid temper. No good ever comes from losing it. You’d think I’d figure that out by now. I should never have let Helfron pull my chain—”
Her eyes widened. Then they widened some more.
“That son of a bitch! That freaking, annoying, too smart for his own good, son of a bitch! I’m going to kill him with my bare hands. I’m going—”
Didn’t she just say losing her temper was bad? He grabbed her arms.
“Sara?”
“He did it on purpose. He knew.”
“Knew what?”
He wasn’t even sure what they were talking about.
“He knew you were Ojemba. That wasn’t a shot in the dark, Fyn. He knew.”
Fyn frowned. “But the only one who could know is—”
“Exactly. That son of a bitch is Kalian. He messed with my head, hoping to take advantage of the situation and it almost worked. I’m gonna kill him—”
She started to turn and Fyn grabbed her and held her. He could feel how pissed she was.
“Temper?”
“Oh.” She took a couple of deep breaths. He didn’t mind at all. “Right.”
She still looked mad.
“Can I spin his ship into a new orbit?”
“You can do that?”
Sara smiled, one heavily loaded with mischief.
“Maybe. Might stop my heart again.”
His brows shot up. “Don’t do that.”
He could feel her calm down. His felt like he’d been hit with a stunner. The pretty boy leader of the Gadi was the ruthless, brilliant Kalian? How was that possible?
“We can’t use the Gadi to pass a message to Xever. He won’t do it.”
Sara’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “I’ll figure out another way.”
Her gaze narrowed even more, but this time she was looking at him.
“I sure hope that’s not my towel around your neck, or we’re going to have another marital spat, cave man.”
Fyn felt his eyes widen. There had only been two in the head. He grabbed her waist and pulled her close. A distraction seemed like a good plan. He bent and kissed her, taking his time. She tasted good. Distraction seemed to be working. He knew he was distracted. He lifted his head and looked at her.
“How about I help you with those clothes?” He pulled her tee shirt up and off before she could stop him. “To make up for taking your towel?”
She sighed, a big one, but her hands were already sliding across his bare shoulders. That felt good, too. He went to work on her pants...
“I guess it’s…” She started to smile, but suddenly she froze, her eyes going wide.
“What?”
“Hotel sierra, I can’t believe I didn’t—I know a way to contact Adin without using the Ojemba—if we can get it to work…”
Fyn fell back on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. “You don’t have to do it right now, do you?”
She shook her head, her smile back on her lips. “I’ve been ordered to rest. I’m yours until 0600.”
Fyn rubbed his thumb across her mouth. I’m yours until…
They were going to war soon, going together. This loving a warrior, the risk of losing her—well, as Sara liked to say, it was a tough gig.
Part Four
Chapter Eighteen
It felt eerie and, yes, icky to be back on the outpost where she’d killed herself. Sara stood in the room where she’d died, not because it was crucial to the mission, but because she needed to face it. Someone had cleaned up the blood and the food she’d thrown on the floor, but the remnants of the chains still hung off the chair. And the stone was stained a dark brown under that chair. She could see it all, like a movie inside her head, and it even seemed as if she could still smell it. Adin’s scent as his mouth moved on hers. The heavy tang of the women’s perfume. The aroma of the exotic food they’d brought. The sickeningly sweet odor of her blood as it ran down her arms and pooled on the floor.
She’d been dragged in here by force and left it on a stretcher, more dead than alive.
She’d come back on her own two feet and packing lots of heat.
She
tried to think of something profound to bring closure to the moment, but she was a military puke, not a philosopher. At least this time, she’d be walking out on those same two feet.
Her radio crackled. “Donovan?”
It was Fyn trying to be a military puke, too. It was cute.
“Yes, sir?” She could play military puke with him. She’d had more practice.
Even though he had no rank, the Old Man had put him in charge of the operation. It was going to be a tough gig for both of them. She didn’t know which one of them had the harder job, the bait or the bait’s husband.
“What are you doing?”
“Improving my situational awareness.” She’d been over most of the outpost, getting a feel for the layout. Not all the stops were necessary. The place where they’d kept the women was not a fun stop. In keeping with the ship they’d captured, the theme of discomfort had continued. The only comfortable room was this one and the one she figured the commander of the base had used. She could still see the calm certainty in Adin’s eyes as he outlined the situation. How had he become the kind of person who thought he was entitled to take what he wanted, do what he wanted? He looked so normal and was even charming on the surface.
Evie was right again. Some people’s “nice” was barely skin deep.
This was—Sara had to take a deep breath even to think it—her father’s legacy. He’d labeled it with his own name. He’d made the monster. Sara didn’t wonder how her mother could have fallen for him. How might Adin have affected her if she hadn’t met Fyn first? Sara had processed enough of the data from the science outpost to know that her mother had lived and worked with a bunch of aesthetes who’d quit feeling anything but intellectual curiosity. That’s why there’d been no children there.
In her way, her mother had been as emotionally starved as Sara.
Whatever mistakes she’d made, she’d protected her baby and given her a great dad. Kyle Donovan loved her. In her mind and in her heart, Sara knew this. Every memory she had of him, in every look in his eyes, there’d been no holding back, no shadow or sorrow when he looked at her. If she survived this and made it back to Earth, she was going to ask the one person who could tell her if Miri had loved him. Miss Anne, the neighbor who took care of her after they died, had been her mom’s closest friend. If she was still alive, she’d know.
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