The Key

by Pauline Baird Jones

  Oh yeah, there was an edge to her voice.

  Xever’s smile got a little…superior, Fyn thought, and felt Sara’s hand clench slightly in his.

  “Why would any woman choose to be a soldier?”

  “Some pukes in a movie said it best. I joined to travel, meet new people…and kill them.”

  Kilburn and the colonel were, unfortunately, taking drinks right then and both choked it back into their glasses. Theirs weren’t the only choking sounds either.

  Fyn bit back a chuckle.

  “What did you say?” Xever’s eyes got wide.

  Fyn couldn’t see Sara, but he somehow knew her brows had arched.

  “You wear the uniform of a soldier, sir. I don’t have to tell you that a soldier’s primary mission is to break things and kill the enemy.”

  He nodded. “That is true, though I have never heard it put quite that way.”

  “That’s not our—” Kilburn started.

  Fyn didn’t see Sara look at him. He just saw the result.

  Kilburn’s eyes widened and his jaw worked a couple of times, but no sound came out.

  Dang. Fyn hoped he was never dead to Sara.

  Halliwell was trying not to smile.

  “I understand female pilots are rather rare around here?” Sara lifted her drink, watching him over the top as she took a sip.

  “They are unheard of. We…treasure and protect our women.”

  “So there are no women on your vessel?”

  Xever’s eyes widened a bit. “Well, we do have a few for…” he stopped, looking uncomfortable now.

  She shifted slightly and Fyn could see the gently inquiring look on her face.

  “For…?” She prompted him, a steely note to her voice that said she wasn’t going to let him off the hook.

  Kilburn came to his rescue, his voice too loud and too hearty. “Since everyone is here, we should take our seats, sir.”

  He gave Sara a look. Fyn watched it bounce off.

  He really hoped he was never dead to her.

  Xever offered Sara his arm. Sara looked at the colonel, who gave a slight nod. With a last, reluctant squeeze, she let go of his hand and put her hand very lightly on Xever’s arm.

  He led her to the table and pulled out the chair next to his for her.

  Kilburn choked again.

  “I’m sure I’m not supposed to be here…”

  “That’s fine, Captain,” Halliwell said, sending a quelling look in Kilburn’s direction.

  Fyn found himself sitting about half way down the table between two of the women in black. The way they looked at him made him uneasy. Sara looked at him and he saw a flash of a smile in her eyes, before the cool veil fell in place again.

  Fyn noticed that she waited to pick up her napkin until some of the others did. It was the same with her utensils. It was the only sign she felt out of her element. And a good plan. He followed her lead, since he wasn’t sure what to do either.

  He heard her say, “So, tell me about your planet, sir?”

  Xever began to talk, but Fyn noticed how intently he studied Sara’s face. There was something…odd about it, something beyond the normal interest a man might take in a beautiful woman.

  Sara’s lips thinned, a sign annoyed was getting a foothold again. She looked at Xever, her brows arching a bit.

  “Do I have a smudge?”

  He looked confused.

  “You seem to be very interested in something on my face.” Her tone was still friendly, but Fyn recognized the chill buried in there. “I was wondering if I’d smudged something.”

  He looked rueful. “I am sorry for staring, but you…” He seemed to hesitate and then he said, “You look very like someone.”

  Sara blinked. “I look like…someone…? Okay. Guess that’s more interesting than looking like no one.”

  He didn’t seem to notice her sarcasm. “She lived a long time ago.” He hesitated. “Her name was Miri.”

  Fyn saw her lashes flicker. She’d heard the name before, but where? Was that a painting of Miri they’d seen down on the outpost?

  Sara tilted her head to the side. “Unusual name.”

  Xever smiled at her. “She was very beautiful, very remarkable, if the legends are correct.”

  “Which they usually aren’t,” Sara inserted.

  “She was to be a bond mate with my ancestor, but she was kidnapped by the Dusan. He never saw her again, though he died believing she would find a way to return to him, to our people.”

  Fyn saw the tiny frown briefly form between her brows, but she quickly smoothed it away.

  “We have been at war ever since.”

  “Really? Wow. That’s…very Helen of Troy.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “Kind of the same story on our planet, these two guys went to war over Helen, but the Spartans kicked Troy’s trash and got her back. With a…large…wooden…horse.”

  Sara frowned, as if that hadn’t come out quite as she’d planned.

  Xever looked confused. Fyn didn’t blame him. And he was sure there was a movie in it somewhere. Briggs snickered.

  After a pause, Xever pressed forward. “As I said, you look remarkably like her.”

  Sara looked at him and blinked a couple of times. “Well, they say everyone has a twin somewhere.”

  She looked down at her plate, taking a small bite and chewing it slowly. Xever stared at her, his fascination now out in the open.

  “There is a legend among my people, that Miri will return and destroy the Dusan.”

  Sara looked up, her brows arched. “A treasured, protected woman will destroy the Dusan? Right. Makes perfect sense.”

  She took a sip of her water. Her gaze turned more assessing, reminding Fyn of how she’d looked at him in the cave.

  “You don’t seem like the legend believing type.”

  He leaned toward her. “Perhaps a beautiful woman can make a man believe?”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve found men will believe almost anything when their blood is flowing away from their brains.”

  There were choking sounds up and down the table.

  Sara, who looked like she’d never been kissed, tucked another bite of food in her mouth. For just a moment, she looked at Fyn and the edges of her mouth quivered.

  * * * *

  The meal finally dragged to a painful end. The food was good, but having every move under so much scrutiny was tiring. And Adin Xever was pushing her buttons, big time. A total chauvinist pig. She wanted to go back to her quarters. Or deck someone. She could feel the steam building inside her. She hadn’t had this much trouble with her temper in a long time.

  Didn’t help that she’d been on duty all last night and spent the day preparing for this…season in hell. She was tired and she was moving beyond pissed. Not good for her critical thinking skills. She’d never made a good decision pissed. Knowing that didn’t seem to help it go away, though.

  She was fiddling with an unused spoon when Xever covered her hand with his. Sara stiffened, then looked at him.

  He was touching her.

  He smiled. Clueless man. And he didn’t stop touching her.

  “Your hand is so delicately formed. I can not imagine this controlling a fighting ship.”

  The Supreme Leader really thought he was complimenting her. She stared at him through a red mist, a rushing sound in her ears. She had a feeling he thought her function on this ship was like that of the women on his. What, did they hand them out to visiting dignitaries?

  “She’s got the second highest kill rate on this ship,” Briggs suddenly said.

  There was a look in his eyes, like he wanted to dance on Xever’s head. It was a good look on him. Even more amazing, he was defending a girl.

  “But if you’d really like to see her in action, you should have a throw down with her.”

  Oh yeah, please let me throw him down. That would help.

  “A…throw down?”

  Briggs smile was
almost evil. “You get out on a mat and she kicks your as—”

  “Well, I think it’s time for some music,” Kilburn cut in.

  “Captain?”

  Sara yanked her hand free and stood up. It surprised her that no one seemed to notice she was on fire. She felt like flames were licking up her sides.

  “You are a musician?” Xever looked surprised.

  Sara’s lips twitched. “Depends on who you ask.” Her smile might have a bit of evil in, too. “I’ll just get the rest of the guys.”

  She sauntered to the door, aware her fringe was swishing in a very provocative way.

  * * * *

  Fyn watched Sara leave with an uneasy feeling. He glanced at Carey and found him looking at him, the same question in his eyes. Briggs just grinned and leaned back in his chair like a man prepared to enjoy the show. Or the explosion. Kilburn didn’t have a clue. He wasn’t sure about the colonel. His face never gave a lot away.

  In a few minutes, Sara returned with Foster and the others. She took her place at her keyboard, but her expression was still pretty…militant. There was an odd glitter in her eyes, too.

  First they sang a song about American girls and boys. Fyn particularly liked the part about the boot in the ass, though it was obvious Kilburn didn’t.

  Sara seemed to like that part, too. A lot.

  When the song ended, Fyn thought maybe the…worst was over, but then Sara stepped out from behind her keyboard and up to the microphone. She didn’t look…like herself. Her gaze swept over the group, almost without recognition—until she got to Kilburn. Fyn wasn’t sure, but Kilburn might have paled. And tried to speak. At least his jaw worked a couple of times.

  The music started soft and then Sara started to sing something about being a woman, even though it was obvious she was one.

  Her voice rose, filled with challenge, and a whole lot of warning. The song was pointed and maybe not wise, but still not terrible.

  Then something…changed. Fyn could see her gaze narrow—never a good sign. She was looking at Xever. Fyn looked, too. He looked…amused. There was something else in his expression that Fyn couldn’t see. Suddenly Sara stalked up to him.

  Kilburn made a choking sound and her gaze snapped his direction, like one of their heat seeking missiles.

  Sara’s brows rose—and she went right up on the table, stalking down the center in time to the music. Her heels hit the surface hard enough to make the utensils bounce and shift—but she didn’t step on a single thing as her gaze and voice challenged them to dispute what women could and would do. She looked down at Kilburn, her gaze impaling him against his chair.

  He gasped like a landed grope-fish.

  She spun, stopping between Fyn and Carey, her hips swaying, her leg thrust out through the slit of her skirt, her foot snapping against the table top with the beat of the song. It was a beautiful sight, but the look in her eyes kept him from totally enjoying it. There was a pause in her singing and Carey said, “Damn, Donovan, I believe you. Hear you, too.”

  She turned and stalked back down the table, then jumped to the floor, her heels hitting the floor like it was some man’s heart. Fyn rubbed his chest, but the look she sent Xever told him he was her target, or maybe it was Kilburn’s heart she was after.

  Sara spun around, leaned one hand on the table, and told Xever she was woman and she was invincible.

  She turned away from all of them and began to stalk, again in time to the music, back toward the band. Not even a slight wobble of the ankles, despite the height of her heels. The combo of her hips and dress was…incendiary—and a bit scary, considering just how pissed she was.

  It wasn’t until the door shut off between her and them that he realized she’d just stalked out the door. There was a long pause.

  Briggs grinned and reached for his glass, taking a long drink.

  Kilburn looked shell-shocked. Even Xever looked a bit stunned.

  The other women were biting back grins, and peeking at the colonel, who was staring straight ahead. He finally looked down the table. Started to say something, and then stood up.

  “Excuse me.” He headed for the door.

  Carey jumped up. “Me, too.”

  Fyn didn’t bother to say anything, he just followed. So did Briggs.

  They found the colonel in the corridor, looking both directions.

  “Where the hell did she go?”

  “I’m guessing the brig,” Briggs said.

  “Good choice.” He spun on his heel and took off. Everyone got out of his way as they wound their way to the brig.

  At the end of a corridor, a soldier sat at a desk, looking a bit bewildered. Clearly they were on the right track. He saw the colonel and jumped to his feet.

  “Sir!”

  “Is Donovan in there?” The man looked a bit unsure. “Red dress?”

  He nodded. “She said she was under arrest.”

  “She was right. Open the damn door.”

  He dropped the keys twice before he got the door open. The colonel shoved him out of the way and strode through. They all followed.

  Sara was standing behind bars, but at attention. She’d taken off her shoes. Fyn missed them. He liked those shoes.

  “Open this door!”

  Sara may have flinched. The guard rushed in and fumbled it open. Again he got shoved out of the way. The colonel walked right up to her, his face an inch from hers.

  “What the hell do you think you were doing?”

  “Singing, sir.”

  He paced around her, managing to keep his glaring gaze fixed on her the whole time. She didn’t flinch or look anywhere but straight ahead.

  “Singing? Shaking your—” he stopped, his jaw working for a minute. “You’re a disgrace to the—”

  She looked at him then. They both knew why she wasn’t wearing her uniform.

  “Explain yourself.”

  She looked forward again. “You said to be nice, sir.”

  “Nice?”

  “Most guys seem to find a little leg action…nice. I thought ET would, too.”

  “I thought it was nice,” Briggs put in.

  “So did I,” Carey chimed in. “Damn nice. Over and above—”

  “Shut up, Colonel, or you’ll be in here with her.”

  That didn’t seem like a punishment, Fyn thought.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t think it was nice, sir.”

  Their gazes clashed. Fyn could almost see sparks around them.

  He was in a tough spot, because they all knew it had been very nice. She’d sent a message, but it had been wrapped up in nice.

  “You…” he choked for a moment before gritting out, “you knew this would piss me off or you wouldn’t be in this cell. Why did you do it?”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

  Another long staring session. Almost imperceptibly, Fyn saw his shoulders relax. He nodded sharply.

  Her lips thinned for a long moment. “I earned the right to wear my uniform the same way you did and it should be my choice if I want to take it off.”

  There was a long pause. “Sir, you can order me into hell and I’ll go, but I will not wear a dress again unless I choose to.”

  She looked straight ahead again, her mouth set. Did she know that made her lower lip fuller and more…everything, Fyn wondered.

  “I can ask for reassignment when the supply ship comes. Or you can shoot me.”

  Fyn looked at Briggs, who shook his head. Carey didn’t look worried either.

  The colonel chuckled. “Don’t go drama queen on me, Donovan.” He slanted a wry grin at her. “It was pretty nice.”

  Color popped out on her cheeks. “I’m sorry, sir. I was…”

  “…pissed. I got that. It’s a good look on you.”

  Her lips twitched.

  “I suppose I’d better get back to the…party. You’re welcome to rejoin us or you’re excused.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He turned to leave, then stopped. “
You think it was a wrong move anyway, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Kilburn is a diplomat. It’s his instinct to downplay our military power, practically knee jerk, but this is a rough neighborhood. We don’t want—or need—a soft side here. At least, that’s my take on it.”

  “Actually, mine, too. Next time I’ll listen to myself.” He strode out, shaking his head.

  “So, you really never going to wear that dress again?” Briggs looked almost sad.

  “I just said it would be my choice.” She swayed in a circle, her arms over her head, making her skirt dance. “Now that I’ve broken the ice, who knows?”

  “You could wear it next time we dance.” Briggs looked hopeful.

  “Only something without lifts. That would be a bit too much sharing.”

  “Let’s get out of here before the colonel changes his mind,” Carey said.

  Sara grabbed her shoes. Fyn held out his hand. She smiled and took it.

  “So, sir, do we go back to the party or not?”

  Carey stopped. “Don’t put this on me.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a party, more like a wake,” Briggs said.

  Carey looked her over. “I have to say, though, the longer you wear that dress the better the morale on this bucket will be.”

  “Jeeze,” Sara made a face, “bad enough half the crew thinks I’m having kinky alien sex with—”

  She stopped, color flaming into her face.

  Carey grinned at Fyn. “Seems we’ve been missing all the good gossip while we were stuck down there on Kikk.”

  Sara’s face was a study in contrasts. “I think I’ll just go find a hole to hide in.”

  “Can I come, too?” Fyn asked. “If I’d known I was having kinky alien sex, I’d have come back sooner.” So that’s what sex was. Interesting.

  Sara grinned. “I don’t remember naming aliens.”

  They all looked at her, their brows raised.

  “I could have met…another alien…while you were down there.” She lifted her chin defensively.

  “Right. I think you should put your shoes back on as punishment for the duh moment,” Carey said.

  Sara looked at Briggs, then at Fyn. He shrugged. He liked the shoes, too.

  “Fine.” She sat down and strapped them on. She stood up. “Satisfied?”