The Key

by Pauline Baird Jones

  He kind of shrugged as he walked to where she pointed, noticing that the surface was springy and almost soft. He’d thrown people down. Lots of them.

  “I’m going to try to throw you down on the mat. You’re going to try to throw me down. Of course, there is a catch.

  There always was.

  “To win, you gotta keep me there. Or I’ve gotta keep you there. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He flipped his hair back and flexed his shoulders. Sounded easy enough.

  Her mouth curved in a smile and a dangerous light lit up her eyes. Maybe not so easy…

  Sara could tell Fyn thought he’d have no trouble taking her down. He did have height and weight on her. All she had going for her was a huge chunk of freaking stubborn. Hopefully it would be enough.

  She began to circle him. He turned with her, his stance altering slightly. Suddenly his hand lashed out. Sara managed to dodge the grab, though she felt it graze her. And almost got tossed by the other hand. She managed to duck, but felt herself go airborne. Did the guy have an arm she hadn’t noticed?

  She twisted in mid-air and landed on her feet. He came in again. It took him a couple of seconds longer this time before she went flying. And she hit the mat.

  The guy was a machine. A whacking machine.

  She bounced up. Okay. She danced in close, then dodged, circling him, watching his eyes, noting the slight smile at the edge of his mouth.

  He came at her and she managed to deflect his move and even attempt a counter move. She found getting close enough for him to get a grip on her was a bad idea.

  She went down again, but was on her feet and trying again before he could keep her there.

  Okay, so maybe she couldn’t win, but if she knocked him down just once…

  She went in again, trying different approaches, learning his moves.

  He had a lot moves.

  All of them ended with her on the mat.

  Sara wasn’t sure how she managed to keep getting up. She had an idea and went for it. She needed to do something before she ran out of steam...

  She danced back out of his reach, then did a hand stand flip, like she was trying for a high kick to the chin. As she expected, he deflected, sending her sailing through the air, but this time positioned the way she wanted.

  She tucked and spun, doing a complete somersault in the air.

  She hit the mat at an angle that no gymnast would have liked, but was perfect for her. She still had momentum when the balls of her feet slammed into the mat.

  She sprang forward.

  He was still coming out of his counter move.

  She hit him full in the chest with her shoulder.

  This time they both went down.

  She should have been on top.

  She was when they hit the mat.

  He should have been winded.

  He wasn’t.

  He rolled on top. His legs hooked with hers, holding them in place. His hand was at her throat, his forearm across her chest. His face was inches from hers, his gaze pinning her in place as surely as his body. Her only satisfaction, he was panting almost as hard as she was.

  “You’re down.”

  “I guess you…win.” She was intensely aware of everywhere their bodies touched. She saw his eyes change and wondered if he was going to kiss her again. Her lips parted—

  “I thought I was supposed to kick your ass this morning, Donovan.” Briggs voice cut between them like a dash of very cold water.

  His eyes shuttered. Sara knew hers did, too.

  “He’s just…helping me warm up.” Sara felt color creep into her face.

  Briggs bent over. “Where’d you learn that stuff?”

  “High school gymnastics.”

  “Really. You ever compete?”

  “I was too tall. Kept banging my legs on the uneven bars.”

  He nodded, like that made sense. “You ready for me?”

  She’d rather be cut into little pieces and fed to aliens.

  “Sure.”

  Fyn rolled off her and stood up in one smooth, powerful motion. He held out a hand to her. Sara took it and let him pull her to her feet.

  Briggs stepped close. “He going to stay?”

  “He wants to see you…kick my ass.”

  Briggs looked undecided. Sara knew why.

  “Can he keep his mouth shut?”

  Sara had to bite her lip. “Oh yeah.”

  Fyn’s lips twitched.

  “Well, move out of the way, Chewie.” While Fyn got out of the way, Briggs crossed to a CD player built into the wall and inserted a disc. He held up the case, so Sara could see it.

  Footloose. Oh crap. It was fast and long.

  “Think you can handle it?”

  She gave him a weak smile. “No problem.”

  The music cued up. It started fast and quickly got faster than that. Briggs took her hands and they started to dance. The guy could really move his big feet—but he didn’t want anyone to know it. He’d push her harder than the toughest sparring session and if she wasn’t careful, mash her feet.

  She didn’t dare look at Fyn to see his reaction to this unusual ass kicking.

  Briggs liked to do a mix of jitterbug, jive and quickstep—and do them at top speed. They did some quick steps. Sides and kicks, their feet missing each other with flashy precision. Lots of spins and jive stepping.

  A big finish as the song finally came to an end. She rolled across his shoulders, then he caught her and lowered her part way to the ground. When the music stopped, he dropped her on the mat like she was on fire.

  Sara lay there, trying to catch her breath.

  “Not bad, Donovan. Faster than the last time.” He bent over her again. He was barely breathing hard. “You all right?”

  Sara gave him a thumbs up. She couldn’t talk yet.

  “Good. See you tomorrow. Chewie.” A sharp nod and he left.

  There was a short silence. Sara managed to sit up. A good thing she healed fast. Fyn came over and handed her a towel. His expression was complicated. He crouched down in front of her.

  “That was…”

  “Yeah.” She was getting her breath back. “He likes to dance and it’s actually a good work out, but it doesn’t go with his tough guy image.”

  She mopped at her face, covering her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at him for a minute. Amazing her body had anything left, but it did. Despite the double thrashing, desire was trying to kick up again. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him close to her.

  She was human. She’d felt…interest in guys in the past, but she could usually work it off. No point in fueling any fire, since guys usually didn’t notice she was a girl, let alone try to strike sparks off her.

  But she’d behaved so badly last night. And the truth was, she did have…secrets—the other reason she avoided sparking. The only person who ever knew about her was Evie and she hadn’t known it all.

  She leaned forward, until her chest was on her knees, her head down, trying to get herself together before she looked at him again…wondering what he was thinking…and feeling…especially what he was feeling…

  Fyn looked at her bent head, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders as her breathing quieted.

  What they’d done…he didn’t know what to think. He’d never seen anything like it. She could pretend it was a punishment, but it was clear both of them had a great time doing it.

  Had he ever enjoyed something like that even before…he couldn’t think of a time. Even when he was a child, the shadow of the Dusan had always been over them.

  She still looked tired. Had she had trouble sleeping last night? He had. He’d close his eyes and see her face. And watching from the shadows was Kalian.

  She’d rubbed the sweat from her face like she could rub tired away—

  He froze, realizing something was missing.

  Her injury.

  First it was a gash, then it was a scratch and now it was gone. As if it had never been.

/>   Maybe it was something common to her people…but if they healed, why have a doctor on board? There’d been nothing in his check up to indicate anything but a healing rate similar to his people.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled.

  “About what?”

  She looked up. “About last night. Are we still…friends?”

  She looked ready to retreat behind her wall if he blinked. She’d given him a reason to retreat. He should take it. Instead, he reached out and grabbed her hand, rubbing his fingers across her palm as he lifted it and pressed his mouth to the inside of her wrist for a long moment. He felt her pulse beat against his lips and she shivered.

  Friends?

  She took back her hand, but reluctantly it seemed. Desire put tiny flames at the back of her eyes, but she was also trying not to smile.

  “This is supposed to be a cool down.” She stared at him for a long moment, her gaze turning sober. She reached out and lightly, very lightly touched the side of his face, but pulled her hand away before he could grab it.

  “You should run. Save yourself. I’ve got personal baggage trailing all the way back to my galaxy.” Her lashes lowered again. “You should get away while you can.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair, making the damp strands stand up around her face.

  He could have said the same thing to her, but he didn’t. He could tell her she could trust him, but why should she believe it? He wasn’t sure it was true. He had baggage, too, dangerous baggage.

  He ran his finger down the place where her wound should have been. The color ran out of her face, leaving her looking drawn and sharply pale.

  He leaned forward and found her mouth for a long moment. He sat back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  It was the truth. Whatever his other…responsibilities, he couldn’t leave her until, well, until.

  His touch put the color back in her face. Her lips parted, like she was going to say something, but the door slid open, ending their isolation. Her lashes went down and when they came up, she was gone again.

  In a swift, graceful movement, she was up and moving toward the door as several guys entered, chatting easily. They parted to let her through, exchanging offhand greetings, not really seeing her.

  They stopped when they saw him, but he just nodded and followed Sara out.

  There were too many people on this ship.

  * * * *

  After they’d both showered and grabbed some breakfast, Sara told him it was time to face the sim. It had a longer, official name, so he could see why they’d shortened it. Though they kind of went overboard with the shortening. It was like a special code within their language and each time he got something figured out, he’d find out it had yet another name.

  As they walked through the ship, he was aware that he walked with the “Captain” part of Sara. Only when they were alone did Sara emerge from hiding. He’d think it was a military thing, but not everyone was as…remote as Sara. As far as he could tell no one saw her. How could their gazes pass over her? The worst were the guys who treated her like she was one of them—not that he minded. It was as if she’d been hidden, so that only he could see her—but even that seemed like a cruel joke.

  It was…difficult to adjust to so many people and the differences between Sara’s people and himself, but what he’d seen of these people, he liked. When he’d first arrived, he’d doubted he could fit in here, but as personalities emerged, he realized that wasn’t a requirement. Carey told him he was their “Indian scout,” then explained what it meant, well, kind of. He’d promised to show him yet another movie that would explain it better. Sara said the same thing about the “Chewie” nickname.

  They were brave people, to leave their galaxy and risk it all out here. He wished he had a better galaxy for them to explore. Maybe that’s what spoke to him about them, their willingness to push the boundaries, to risk everything to go somewhere they’d never been.

  Sara had explained the sim, but he didn’t understand that either until she introduced them. According to her, it mimicked anything a Dauntless could do in space.

  “We have to ration all our resources, so this is the only way we have to practice, to keep it sharp, though we do shake the cobwebs out once or twice a month, make sure everything still runs.” She stopped at the base of a ladder. “When my bird is up again, she’ll need a test flight. That’ll give you a chance to compare.”

  “You’re going to let me fly your…bird?”

  Sara slanted him a look. “Well, much as I’d like to take credit for being that generous, it was Colonel Carey’s…idea.”

  That meant order, he’d bet.

  “He has this funny idea that the Air Force owns my bird and not me. You have to gear up completely. It’s a pain, but a necessary one.” She handed him gloves and a helmet. “Your zoombag is fire and weather proof. Unlike earth bags, this one is fitted with speedjeans.”

  “Speedjeans?”

  “A g-suit? To keep your blood from pooling in your legs in tight turns when you’re pulling G’s? So you don’t pass out?”

  Pulling G’s? He thought he knew what that meant.

  “How fast does your bird go?” Fyn asked.

  She smiled. “Fast.”

  When he was geared up, he climbed inside. He expected her to give him a verbal tour, but she just waited quietly beside him, letting him explore the mocked up cockpit. He had a few questions and some of the controls had labels he wasn’t used to, but it wasn’t that different. He’d flown a lot of different craft.

  “Ready to give her a go?”

  He nodded and she showed him how to hook in to the radio and control oxygen flow.

  “Just take her out and get a feel for her, then I’ll set the computer to run a variety of sims for you. I’ve even uploaded what happened to me. Maybe you can figure out how I could have done it…like a guy.” She grinned at him. “Kick the tires and light the fires.”

  Sara closed the hatch and secured it. She looked around, but they were alone for the moment, so she activated the computer from where she was, then jumped down from the ladder. She keyed her radio.

  “You reading me?”

  “Roger.”

  Sara grinned. Soon he’d sound like one of them, even if he didn’t exactly look like them. Who knew a head full of dreads could be so hot? She’d never been interested in the bad boys in school. She’d grown up in the danger zone, didn’t need to invite more of it into her life.

  Danger probably ran scared from Fyn. And she should, too. She’d seen him in the jungle and tested his strength on the mat. She didn’t know what had happened to him since his planet was over run, but it couldn’t have been…good. And then getting stranded on Kikk for who knows how long. Dang. That was some bad luck.

  She knew about bad luck. And about getting a chance to turn things around, thanks to Evie. One reason why she couldn’t run. Or at least it made a good excuse.

  “I’m going to start you from the basement…the hanger bay.” She walked over to the control panel. She could see him inside the sim on one screen and also see what he was seeing on the next screen. He made a smooth exit, then did some loops, getting a feel for the stick.

  “Nice.” His voice was deep and smooth, like rich, dark chocolate, with a hint of an unfamiliar accent. He went full throttle and did a series of bat turns, testing the outer limits. He was good, better than she was, darn him.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to try some scenarios.” She kept her voice cool. Maybe it would send the rest of her a message.

  “Let’s do it,” he said.

  She keyed in the first scenario, their battle from the other day.

  The doors to the sim bay slid open and Carey came in.

  “That Chewie in there?”

  “Yes, sir. We just started the first scenario.”

  He joined her at the panel. “Not bad. That the battle the other day?”

  “I uploaded the data from all our computers.”

>   Fyn dove into the battle without hesitation, forward guns blazing. He took down one, then another. As near as Sara could tell, he got the ones she’d gotten.

  “There goes three, now four. You got hit right after this, didn’t you?”

  Now he was seeing what she’d seen, her wing man in trouble. He went in, just as she had, scattering bandits and eliminating the threat to her wingman, but swarms of bandits were closing fast. She’d been able to dodge most of their fire. Unfortunately, most wasn’t good enough.

  He jinked to avoid a salvo, swinging the Dauntless like it was a hammock. Enemy fire singed by on either side, but he was still flying. Then he hit the space brakes, almost bringing on a stall. He seemed to know just how much he could slow. When he accelerated, he took out two more.

  Just when they thought it was over, he caught a stray blast.

  “Doesn’t look like he’s going down, though,” Sara said. “He’ll make it back to mother. He’s good.”

  Carey keyed the mike on the panel. “Good shooting, Chewie. How does it feel?”

  “It’s good.” He brought the “damaged” bird back into the hanger, dropping it lightly in place.

  “You’re right, he is good,” Carey said. “Nice find, Donovan.”

  Sara blinked, not quite sure who’d found whom. “Thank you, sir.” She hesitated, “Since you’re here, I’ll go get to work on my bird.”

  He nodded absently. “Hey Chewie, let’s try you with this scenario I worked up…”

  Sara left, hiding a grin. Boys would be boys.

  Down in the repair bay, she found Briggs working on her ship.

  “You and Chewie got a lot done yesterday,” he said, without looking up.

  They had got a lot done, but she’d gotten more done when she came back later. Couldn’t sleep last night and finally gave it up and came back. Now that lack of sleep was catching up with her. She could feel it like an incoming wave, trying to take her legs out from under her.

  She pushed it back. “Where do you want me to start?”

  He looked at her then, his gaze piercing and thorough.

  “You were supposed to rest last night.”

  She managed to meet his gaze for a twenty count, then gave it up as a bad job. She never could bluff him.

  “I tried.” She kept having weird dreams, not bad exactly, just…weird. She was in this city, looking for something, but she didn’t know what it was. Usually her anxiety dreams revolved around not being ready for a test in school. For some reason the new dream made her feel…edgy.