“Did they…find transmitters during the autopsies?” Fyn almost hoped Carey wouldn’t tell him. The more he learned, the more it weighed on him. This wasn’t just about the Ojemba. It was about his personal vow to fight the Dusan to his death or theirs. He’d given many seasons of his life to the battle, but it didn’t seem enough against the loss of his mate, his world.
“What? Oh yeah, they did. They were all dead though, like the guys they took ‘em from. Geeks are trying to try to find a way to power it back up.”
That didn’t seem like a good idea.
“But first they want to make sure it doesn’t broadcast.”
That was good.
Carey got on the radio and explained that they needed the discs.
“Doc says five of the guys had cut vocal chords. Kind of nasty. Means their only way of communicating was through the transmitters. They figure the guy with chords was the commander of the detail.”
Fyn remembered the odd feeling he’d had when he looked at the dead Dusan. Something bothered him, but he couldn’t figure out what.
In a short while, a jarhead showed up with the discs. They all looked at them. They all seemed to be the same.
Carey laid them out on a table and picked them up one at a time. Finally he sighed.
“Only thing to do is try one, I guess. If these were ours, they’d all work.” He frowned a bit. “Maybe you two should stand back. Just in case.”
Fyn didn’t move. Neither did the jarhead.
Carey grabbed one. “Okay, let’s see what happens.” He walked over to the ship and shoved the disc in the slot.
Nothing happened.
Fyn gathered up the other five and took them to him. Number four was the right one.
“So, only one guy can get into the ship? That’s cold.”
“That’s Dusan,” Fyn said, grimly.
The inside was as sterile as the outside. Carey looked around him.
“I’d sure hate to spend much time in one of these bad boys.” He sat down but got up rather quickly. “Damn. That’s brutal.”
Fyn tried a seat. It wasn’t just that it was uncomfortable. It was almost as if it had been designed to be a punishment. He didn’t linger in it either. One of the seats looked different, though. He tried it. “This one is comfortable.”
“Now why do I get the feeling it belonged to the guy who could talk?” Carey’s face looked grim.
There was another slot on the drive console. The same disc made the engine come online. Carey pulled it out again and tucked the disc in his pocket.
“Well, now we know it works. We can let the geeks do their thing.” He headed out, like he couldn’t stand being in it anymore.
Fyn followed him out, also relieved to be clear of it. “Now what?”
Carey grinned. “Lunch?”
* * * *
From taping into the computer, Sara knew the geek squad was settled into the city and had begun to explore, though it was slow going. Some buildings opened without problems. Others resisted all efforts to get in. So many questions and very few answers. They were assuming the outpost was Garradian and finding the language hard to crack. Sara could have told them more, but she wasn’t sure she should. She’d spent her life trying to blend in, not stand out. She’d buried her secrets very deep.
And there was the whole issue of becoming an alien autopsy herself.
At times the longing to return to the city was almost physical in its intensity. She missed Fyn, too, with a different kind of ache. She had no contact with him or Carey, other than her sneak peaks into the ship’s computers. The report about the Dusan ship was interesting…and disturbing. The autopsy reports were beyond disturbing. What kind of people were these Dusan to maim and torture their own men?
Much had also changed aboard the Doolittle. Dancing with Fyn and Briggs had changed things.
She was no longer invisible.
The women saw her now, their eyes bright with curiosity. She was invited to join their poker night and had to work at not slaying them all. Maybe it was all those years spent watching, but she knew exactly who was bluffing and who wasn’t. And she seemed to be able to keep track of the cards.
Once a freak, always a freak, apparently.
She tried to hit the cafeteria at times when it was less busy, because of the sudden attention, but it wasn’t always possible. It had been a long week and she’d just gone off duty. As she turned with her tray to find an empty table, she heard someone say her name. She found her new poker group pointing to an empty chair at their table.
She smiled at them and took the seat. Most of them were equipment technicians, but one was a pilot in another squadron. Another worked in the infirmary.
Sara opened her napkin.
“Food looks good this morning.” Innocuous, but safe topic, since there was no weather to talk about.
“I’ll be glad when we get resupplied,” a cute little brunette at the end of the table said. “The commissary is totally out of chocolate.”
“I think I got the last one.” Sara felt guiltily. “For Fyn. He’d never tried…coconut. Or chocolate.”
“Really? Did he like it?”
They all seemed happy she’d brought Fyn up.
“What’s not to like?” Sara smiled uneasily, wishing she hadn’t brought him up. Who knew they’d be so interested in him?
There was a murmur of agreement.
“So, what’s he really like?”
Sara felt pinned by their avid gazes.
“Did he really save your life?”
“Were you too scared? I saw him when he came on board. Whoa.” She shivered, her eyes bright. She worked in the infirmary, Sara recalled.
Sara grinned. “I thought he was Sasquatch. Or his cousin.”
“He sure cleaned up nice.” She leaned her elbows on the table. “So, what’s it like?”
Sara blinked. “What’s what like?”
“You know…with an alien. Is he like…our guys?”
Sara felt color run up her face, but before she could even begin to think of a response, she sensed an alert coming. She froze, fighting the instinct to run for the fighter bay, waiting until it actually sounded, to jump to her feet.
“Sorry!” She ran for the door, joining others heading for their duty stations. When she reached the hanger, the squadron on alert was still in the fighter bay, though all the pilots were in their ships.
“What’s going on?” she asked a nearby tech as she scrambled into her zoombag. Their squadron would only be called out if things went really south, but she wanted to be ready.
He shrugged. “We’re on stand by.”
This was crap. She climbed into her bird and mentally tapped into the ship’s computer system. There was nothing on tracking yet, but Carey and Fyn heading back to the Doolittle. Whatever it was, it must have been seen down on the outpost first. Sara watched the two ships land in the other fighter bay before the big ship showed up on tracking. It was a different shape from the Dusan ship, she noticed.
She tapped into communications, and then activated her ear mike.
“…Fyn says it’s Gadi, sir.” It was Carey.
“We’re receiving a transmission. Audio and video.”
She mentally toggled some systems and now she could see the bridge.
“Open a channel,” Halliwell said, taking his seat.
On the screen, a face appeared, human and not bad looking. Hard to gauge his height, with no point of reference, but he had light brown hair, a cleanly fashioned, clean-shaved face and direct blue eyes. His uniform was a light khaki.
“Unknown vessel, this is Adin Xever, Supreme Leader of the Gadi. With whom am I speaking?”
“I am Colonel Steven Halliwell, commander of the Earth ship, Doolittle.”
Xever turned to someone beside him and asked a question they couldn’t hear. After a pause, he faced the screen.
“We are not familiar with earth.”
“And we’re not familiar with the Gadi.�
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Xever nodded slowly, seemed to consider for a few moments. “We saw you destroy the Dusan ship. If you are an enemy of the Dusan, we have something in common.”
It was Halliwell’s turn to nod and consider what to say. He looked at their diplomat, Stuart Kilburn. He shrugged. Not much to work with yet.
Sara noticed Carey and Fyn had arrived on the bridge, though they both stayed back, out of sight and out of the way.
“I wouldn’t call us their enemy. They launched an unprovoked attack on us, so we took them out.”
Xever smiled. “The Dusan are the enemies of all who are not Dusan. They may not be your enemy yet…but you are their enemy just by existing.”
Halliwell looked thoughtful. “Then I guess we do have something in common.”
Xever hesitated, then said, “Perhaps if we were to…talk…we would find other similarities between our people.”
Halliwell stood up, clasping his hands behind his back. “What did you have in mind?”
Kilburn stepped into view. “Perhaps you’d be willing to send a small delegation to dine and talk here on the Doolittle?”
Halliwell looked annoyed. “An unarmed delegation. No more than three men.”
Xever seemed pleased.
“I and two of my aides will be pleased to accept your invitation. When would you like us to come aboard?”
Halliwell silenced Kilburn with a look. “It will take us several hours to prepare.”
“Hours?” Xever looked confused.
“We’ll hail you when we’re ready.”
“That is acceptable.”
The screen went dark.
Halliwell rounded on Kilburn. “You will never again invite anyone onto this ship without my permission. Is that clear?”
“This is a great opportunity—”
“We don’t know much about these Gadi and what we do know is a bit suspect.” He turned to his SO. “Start working on a way to route them through the less sensitive areas of the ship. We’ll bring them in through the shuttle bay.” Now he turned to Fyn and Carey. “You two, in conference. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Both men nodded and headed for the conference room. Kilburn started to follow.
“We won’t need you.”
Kilburn looked annoyed. “I was thinking, it might be a good idea to…soften…our appearance by having some of the women at the dinner. In dresses.” He looked oddly excited by the idea.
“What?” The colonel said what Sara was thinking.
“Think about it. They’ve seen us take out a Dusan ship. They know we’re strong. Now we should show them we can be…nice.”
Halliwell hesitated, looking undecided. Sara could tell he didn’t like the idea, but wasn’t sure why.
She could have told him, but no one was asking her.
Finally he nodded. “All right, but only the ones who aren’t on alert status or manning a key position.”
Sara felt a chill, but surely they wouldn’t pick her? They’d want the pretty girls. It was…nicer.
* * * *
“I haven’t had any direct contact with the Gadi and I’ve been out of touch for a long time,” Fyn said. “I just traded and worked with some of their allies before I was stranded. They’re suspicious of strangers and not usually this…friendly. You must have impressed them.”
This could be bad for him. Kalian had sources among the Gadi. He had men and sources on every non-Dusan planet in the galaxy. They were men like Kalian, who’d lost patience with the Gadi’s unwillingness to engage the Dusan in open combat and defeat them.
“Is it safe to let them come on board?” Halliwell was tense, with good reason.
It was tempting to tell him no. It would be better for him, but would it be the best thing for them? It was uncomfortable to feel…dual loyalties. He actually wanted to do what was best for these people.
Even in that frame, he didn’t have an answer to that question. He’d lived his life between the two warring forces. It was hard to like either of them very much.
“Don’t want them looking behind the curtain,” Carey said, “or let them find out the real wizard is down on Kikk.”
Carey said stuff like that so often, Fyn didn’t ask anymore. It was probably from a movie he’d have to see some time. The list was getting really long.
“I’d like you to be there, Fyn,” the colonel said. “I’d like your take on them. You get any bad vibes, you let me know a-sap.”
Fyn nodded. He already had bad vibes, but they probably weren’t the ones the colonel meant.
The intercom buzzed.
“Colonel?” It was Kilburn. “I have a problem. Can we come in?”
Halliwell sighed. “All right.”
The door slid open and Kilburn entered with Sara in tow. Fyn straightened and looked at her. She was flying her warning flags as she came to attention.
“What’s the problem?”
“You told me to pick personnel not on alert status. The Captain is not on alert, but she has…declined the invitation to dinner.”
“What’s the problem, Donovan?” The colonel turned his coldest gaze on her. “I don’t have time for this.”
“I guess I could come in my dress uniform, sir.” She didn’t sound excited about it, though. “If I have to come.”
“What, you don’t have a civilian dress?”
Her gaze flickered for just a second, but enough for the colonel to add, “Don’t lie to me, Donovan, or I’ll go through your clothes myself and heaven help you if I find a dress.”
Fyn could see her struggle for a moment.
“It’s not exactly a dress. It’s certainly not a dinner dress.”
“What is it…exactly?”
“It was my high school graduation dress, sir.”
He looked her up, then down. “Are you worried it won’t fit?”
She hesitated again. “No, sir.”
“Our guests won’t know it’s not a dinner dress.”
“And are the men going to be wearing dinner suits, sir?”
He looked startled. “Probably not one on board, except for Kilburn here.”
“So just women have to put on civvies?”
“Don’t make this into a women’s lib thing, Donovan. I’m not in the mood. Just wear the damn dress.”
Sara looked at him. “Are you ordering me to wear a dress, sir?”
Halliwell looked at her.
It was obvious he didn’t want to.
It was obvious he was going to have to.
“Fine,” he snapped, “it’s an order.”
“I asked if her…group could play something nice, after dinner, too, sir.” Kilburn eyed her uneasily.
“I’m sure the Captain and her band will be happy to play something after dinner.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll speak to Major Foster, sir.”
Fyn had never heard her voice sound so…wooden. There were two red spots on her cheeks, almost the same color as her hair. Carey looked at him and shook his head, his brows arched.
“Dismissed, Captain.”
She snapped out a salute, then spun on her heel and marched out. Kilburn flinched back as she passed him.
“Thank you, Colonel.” He waited a moment, and then cautiously peered out. He looked relieved as he left.
“Idiot.” Halliwell looked at Carey. “Did she look pissed?”
“She might have, sir,” Carey said.
That was an understatement.
“What’s a dress?” Fyn asked.
They both looked at him.
“A rare sight on this ship,” Halliwell said, with a sigh.
* * * *
Sara blew through the ship and no one got in her way. She didn’t stop until she reached her bird. She crawled in and slumped down, seething. It really sucked. She couldn’t even go AWOL. A dress. A freaking dress. A freaking high school graduation dress.
She could almost hear Evie say, “Well, boo, freaking, hoo, girl. Get over it.”
She heard
a rustle of movement and her ship rocked as someone stepped up on the wing. She looked up.
Fyn looked down at her a bit warily.
Dang, he looked good. It was hard to be mad and hot for him. Hard to be either when she remembered that most of the ship seemed to think she was having kinky alien sex.
She leaned her head back. “Hi.”
“You all right?”
“I’m not going to die…unfortunately.”
He hesitated. “What’s a dress?”
Sara had to chuckle. She pushed herself up. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
He walked with her out of the fighter bay, his hand touching her now and then, when they needed to get around a knot of people.
Dang, she’d missed him. Not good.
Outside her quarters, she stopped. “Crap, I forgot to do something.” She tapped her radio. “Major Foster?” When he answered, she told him about the colonel’s request. “I’ll be down in a bit to help set up and we can pick the music then. Yes, sir.”
She signed off, then punched the panel. Her door slid open and she stalked in and turned to face Fyn. As soon as the door closed, she went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She might have wrapped her legs around him, too. She wasn’t sure. She had a head of steam to blow off, not helped by a week of missing him.
He didn’t seem to mind she practically crawled up his chest to get to his mouth. When they finally had to come up for air, Sara realized how little space they were using.
“Sorry.” She slid her legs down to the floor again and smoothed his shirt back in place. She couldn’t imagine how it got like that.
He pulled out her tiny stool and sat down, then patted his knee.
“Sit down and tell me about it.”
Sara eyed the spot, but stepped past him to sit on the edge of the bed. “I think I’d better sit here. I can’t think when you’re, well…”
Color flooded her face.
He leaned his arms on his knees, bringing his face close again. Sara had to touch his cheek. His eyes were warm, with a touch of puzzled in there.
“I missed you.”
He slid his hand across her face, bringing their mouths back together again. The kiss was a bit less…wild, but still very good. When he eased back, she rested her forehead against his.
“What’s a dress?” he asked again.
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