When the door slid open, Sara didn’t look up. It would be the nurse with her sleeping pill.
“Donovan?” Briggs voice boomed into the quiet of the room.
That got her to look up and jarred a real smile loose from where all her smiles were hiding.
If they’d asked her if he could come in, she’d have said no. She was glad they hadn’t asked. If there was a constant in her life, it was Briggs. She’d known him longer than…anyone. She’d never socialized with him, other than the dancing—if you could call that socializing—even after his retirement. There probably wasn’t a name for what they shared. If it was a friendship, it had none of the usual friendly accouterments.
When he retired, she’d thought he was gone from her life, but he’d pulled her into his assignment at Area 51—and then seemed annoyed about it, she recalled with an inward smile. She wouldn’t have known he did it, but the Old Man spilled it during her interview with him.
Once she’d smiled at him, it was impossible to retreat.
He stalked over to her bed and studied her face without embarrassment or pity.
Sara endured the scrutiny without flinching or looking away.
“You look like hell.”
She heard herself chuckle.
“Thank you.” She pointed to a chair. “How’s mom? My bird?”
He sat and told her the latest news, his big arms crossed over his chest. But he finally stopped, pinning her with his gaze.
“Did you try to kill yourself?” His tone said he didn’t believe it.
Sara stared at him for a moment. “I’m a fighter puke. I don’t try. I do.”
His brows arched.
“I realize being alive kind of disputes that, but it’s true. I…died.” Sara looked down at her hands for a moment, remembering how odd it felt to see herself lying in the chair, to see Adin leave her there. She’d almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He’d looked so sad and surprised. She’d watched her body jerk as the nanites tried to restart her heart. And suddenly she was back inside herself, feeling pain as the nanites fought to keep her alive. Then the slide into unconsciousness, wondering if she’d wake up…
She made herself look at Briggs, trying for a light tone. “That’s got to be some kind of record, coming back from the dead twice.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Did you want to die?”
“You know, you’re the first one to ask me that.” She looked at the camera. “No.”
“What the hell happened out there?”
There was a bracing vigor about his unabashed curiosity. And Sara found she was ready to tell her story—at least the bare essentials. She started after she’d been transported to the other outpost. How she couldn’t go back, so she’d started working her way to the surface, about running into the Dusan. About making some of them go away. And about her plan to get home.
“You were going to steal a Dusan ship? You may be a girl, but you got some big, brass ones.”
She grinned.
“So what went wrong?”
“Pretty much everything.” She told him about her capture. “I should have tried to take them,” she finished with a sigh.
“Six guys?” Briggs frowned.
“Turns out they had soft, chewie centers. I knocked down a bunch of them with my hands cuffed.” She smiled at the memory. “Didn’t get me anywhere, but it felt good. And the look on—”
She stopped, her hands clenching. “Anyway, they hauled me to their leader and then to a cell. And so I’m sitting there plotting my next move and some big dumb brute of a guy brings me,” she paused for effect, “a dress.”
Briggs straightened. “Damn. What did you do?”
Sara smiled, but she could still feel her stomach clench as she remembered holding the gown up. The fabric was so sheer she could see the wall through it. Hell, she could see the cracks in the wall through it.
“Well, I had a knife and time to kill.”
Briggs chuckled. “Good for you.”
Now she felt her insides tightening even more. She pulled her legs up to her chest, her lashes sliding down to cover her eyes.
“And then…” Her chest hurt. She didn’t want to go there again. Bad enough she did it every night in her sleep.
“And then?” Briggs finally prompted.
She took a deep breath. “Mr. Supreme Leader showed up.”
She said it lightly, like it didn’t matter. She realized she was rocking back and forth and stopped.
“He was a bit annoyed about the dress.”
There was a short, sharp silence.
“Did he—” Briggs voice was sharp and tight, too.
Color flooded her face. “No.”
Another weighted silence.
“That’s why you did it.”
Sara nodded, not looking at him. She licked her lips.
“He explained the situation. Wanted to kill him, but that only solved one problem. There were a…lot more gomers and my range of movement was…limited.”
She flushed again. It was such a girl thing to get trapped like that. If she’d known, she’d so have taken on those six guys.
She could still feel the moment she realized dying was her only way out. And then she’d had to figure out how to get to her knife while Adin sat there licking his chops. Even as she swept the food to the floor, she hadn’t been sure she could reach the knife, not until her hand closed around the hilt and she’d pulled it free.
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 kin
d word after he’d already moved on, leaving her to others’ untender 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 – Eleven
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 avoid
ed 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.
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