The Key

by Pauline Baird Jones

  Helfron wasn’t the only one who could add a few inches to his height.

  She studied the effect, well, as much as she could see. Her hair was longer than she usually wore it. The extra length worked with her trashy look.

  Lastly, she added her sunglasses. She needed a bit of protection if she was going to do this. She adjusted them part way down her nose, so she could look over them if she needed to.

  She’d already emailed Foster a list of songs to start out with. They all had the benefit of being loud. It was nice of Gaedon to tell the leader Sara had a “quite nice voice.”

  Foster had emailed her back a one-word response: Damn.

  He didn’t seem able to expand on that when he saw her.

  “I was thinking we could do the lights a little differently, too.” Sara tried to ignore the looks the guys were giving her. “I don’t want our…guests to see me until the music starts.”

  “What are you up to?” Foster wanted to know.

  “Nothing that hasn’t been approved by the Old Man.”

  “So that guy really does want to marry you?”

  Sara wasn’t offended he sounded surprised. She would have rubbed her face, but she didn’t want to smear her new look.

  “I’m hoping to change his mind.”

  Foster looked her up and down. “I don’t think that’s the way to do it.”

  “He’s the prissy leader of a bunch of planets. Do you really think he wants to marry trailer park trash?”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” He looked her up and down and grinned. “…no I’d still want this.”

  “Well, you’re not a leader person. Can we do it?”

  “Hey, we’re the finest fighting force in three galaxies. We can do anything.”

  * * * *

  Deliver the girl and all is forgiven.

  Fyn stared at the note, wondering which member of the Gadi delegation was the Ojemba enforcer.

  So, now Kalian knew Fyn was alive and he knew that Miri’s descendent had returned to the galaxy.

  No surprise he wanted her.

  He might believe Fyn would deliver Sara to him. Or he was making sure Fyn wouldn’t…before making his own move on her. Or he was hoping Fyn would believe he had time to consider the order.

  Kalian might accept one of the earth’s ships instead, but he’d know Fyn was more loyal to Sara than the Ojemba. They’d get all the information they could from him and then he’d be eliminated.

  The only way to return and survive was to hand them Sara. And even then, he might not.

  Summer soldiers…

  Sara’s words had cut deep and left him floundering, trying to figure out what kind of soldier he was. He’d sworn an oath to the Ojemba and meant every word. He still did, to the extent that he would give his life to defeat the Dusan.

  He just couldn’t give Sara’s life to them. It was her life to give or not give. She’d chosen her cause and no one should take that from her. Especially not someone who loved her.

  He was going to have to tell Colonel Halliwell about the Ojemba. He’d know Fyn withheld information from him. He’d be… disappointed. They might throw him in the brig. Or off the ship.

  He could live with that, but what about Sara? Could he make them understand just how dangerous and deadly the Ojemba was to them and to her? He knew their methods. He’d come up with some of them.

  He couldn’t go to the dinner until he figured out what to do before Sara read all this in his eyes. He’d seen questions in her eyes this afternoon. He didn’t know why she hadn’t asked, was just grateful she hadn’t.

  He wished he could talk to the colonel now, but he was at the dinner, too. So was Carey. He had to be there in the club. That set up was a lot more vulnerable to an Ojemba style attack.

  There wasn’t much Kalian wouldn’t do to get Sara.

  Or much he wouldn’t do to stop him.

  * * * *

  When his door buzzed, Fyn tensed, wondering if it was Sara, but it was just Carey.

  “You missed a great dinner, Chewie,” he said, still grinning. “Donovan tossed the leader’s guards on their asses, well, sort of, and you should have seen her face when she found out the pretty boy has a freaking harem at home. We got to get a good seat at the club. She’s got some serious steam building up again.”

  He punched Fyn’s arm.

  “Be good for you tonight, if she doesn’t get herself some brig time again.” His brows went up. “You ready?”

  Fyn nodded. If she was in the brig, he’d know where she was. And they might be together.

  When they arrived, the band area was dark, which was odd. He could see figures moving there, so the band was there. Anyone who could be was there had showed up, but the Gadi delegation hadn’t arrived yet.

  Colonel had added plenty of security. There were guys positioned around the room. That was good.

  There was a stir at the door and the guests arrived. Kilburn was in the group, but not the colonel. Fyn wished he dared leave to talk to him.

  He hadn’t felt this itchy since that time he’d been a Dusan watcher near the outpost where Sara came to grief and almost got taken out by a patrol. Something was about to break. He could feel it in his bones.

  Despite the relaxed atmosphere, it seemed the crew felt it, too. There was an extra watchfulness about them. Of course, there were six ships sitting out there. And a buttload of Dusan ones getting ready to visit.

  When the Gadi leader was settled, Kilburn signaled for the band to start. There was the now familiar stir from the stage, then a scream from one of the instruments signaled it was beginning. The lights flashed on with the slam of music.

  Fyn’s jaw…dropped. Was that his Sara? She looked…wild and…well, sexy. She’d covered her eyes with dark glasses, and her mouth was a slash of red in her pale face. It was her hair, but…not. It went in all directions, good directions. Sexy directions. Her pants hugged her like they never planned to leave. Her shirt hugged her, too—except for the part that drooped off one shoulder. He’d kissed that shoulder. Something glinted in her bare stomach, catching the light as she moved with the music. She moved…a lot. He’d never seen her move that much. It was really…nice.

  “Damn.” Carey took a deep breath. “Damn.”

  If that was trashy, he liked it.

  The song was loud and wild all the way to the end. When she turned in a circle, singing about tight jeans, Fyn saw something on her back, just above the edge of her pants. A drawing. He wasn’t the only one who liked that. The song was about getting a little crazy, but she looked a lot crazy. In a good way.

  Crazy and loud seemed to be the theme of the first set. As she sang, Sara stayed inside the music, only this time she was letting it out, too. Her voice had a rough edge to it and he vaguely wondered what a wooly bully was. And an Egyptian.

  Even the pictures flashing on the monitors didn’t help that much.

  It was as if she’d finally turned herself loose. At one point she got close to Foster, so close only the microphone separated them. They sang to each other like lovers. He might have got up and punched Foster, but Sara looked over her shoulder and winked at him over the top of the glasses. When she wasn’t singing or playing, she…danced.

  And when she sang, it felt like a verbal throw down—Fyn knew he felt knocked on his ass. When she peeked over the glasses, her eyes were smoky and mysterious and he wanted to go pull her off the stage and show her how married she was again. Stake a claim for everyone to see.

  If the Gadi leader knew Sara was gunning for him, it didn’t show on his face. Helfron looked…a bit amused and a bit bored. As if he sensed Fyn’s gaze, he looked at him. There was nothing in the leader’s eyes to make Fyn uneasy…but he was.

  When the set ended Sara grabbed a bottle of water and stalked over to them. She pulled a chair in between Fyn and Briggs and collapsed into it. Her hair clung damply to her face and her skin glistened with sweat. She took a long drink of the water, then held the bottle agains
t her neck.

  She wiped her mouth. “So?”

  Briggs just snorted.

  What was in her belly circle? He tried to touch it, but she caught his hand. He looked at her. “Can we leave?”

  He could protect her while he was jumping her bones.

  Sara grinned. “We could try.”

  Carey looked over her shoulder. “They got the doorway covered. I figured the noise would run them off before now.”

  Sara sighed. “So did I. But I’m not tapped out yet. I can be loud for as long as necessary. I’m motivated.”

  “And most of us will need cold showers before the night is over.” Carey grinned.

  “We got incoming.” Briggs pushed back his chair and stood up.

  Sara stood, too, and turned to face the fire, hoping some of it would be friendly. It was Gaedon and Kilburn. The leader was still in his chair. Sara felt her gaze narrow. Surely Kilburn wasn’t throwing in with the enemy now, when the battle was almost won?

  “Captain.” Gaedon bowed gravely. “We are preparing to depart. Our Leader wishes to—”

  He stopped. Maybe he wasn’t sure what the Leader wanted to do. Or didn’t dare tell her. She looked at Kilburn.

  He tugged at his shirt collar. “It would be…courteous to tell him good-bye, Captain.”

  “Good-bye. I can do that.” She stepped around Fyn, her hand brushing his, and strolled over to the Gadi leader. It was second nature to go into at ease position, her hands clasped behind her back, even though she wasn’t in uniform. She tucked her chin, so she could look at him over the top of her sunglasses.

  “The Commander says you have to leave, sir.”

  She could feel sweat tricking down the side of her face and took a swipe at it. Something flickered in his eyes for a moment.

  Maybe Foster was right. Maybe the prissy boy liked sweaty girls.

  “I hope you enjoyed your visit,” she added politely.

  “Do you?” His brows arched a bit. “Or do you just hope I got your… message?”

  Sara thought for a minute. “Both.”

  He gestured toward the chair across from him.

  “Will you sit?”

  A request? An actual request? Sara felt her brows go up. Without comment, she turned the indicated chair around and straddled it, resting her arms on the back. Her gaze grazed past the guys she’d beat up.

  “Sorry about the thrashing, guys.”

  The two she’d thrashed didn’t look at her or respond. The six guards did move around them, creating an almost private perimeter for them, by facing out. Sara looked around, then back at the leader. She wasn’t too worried. They still hadn’t learned not to turn their backs on her.

  “I’d be happy to give them a few tips.”

  He looked amused. “I will take your offer under consideration, Captain.”

  Wow, now he called her by her rank. He was almost acting like a human being. What was he up to?

  “You seem to…enjoy this?” He waved his hand gracefully toward the wider club area.

  “Yes, I do.” She started to tap out a song on her own arm, as music played in her head.

  “Did Xever see this?”

  She nodded.

  “And then he wished to mate with you.”

  Sara felt color warm her cheeks. What was it about the word mate that just sounded so, so…so.

  “Yeah, it was the singing that made him interested in me. Not my likeness to Miri.”

  Helfron’s brows arched. “You think it is not possible to want the key…and,” his gaze swept over her, “you?”

  “I don’t think either of you would have given me a second look if it weren’t for the key. Though, I’ll give you chops for offering the bond…thing.” Even if the offer included a freaking harem.

  “Chops?”

  There was something wrong about that word coming out of his mouth.

  “It’s a good thing.”

  “What did Xever offer?”

  Not that it was any of his business…

  “An unending gig as a prostitute.”

  His brows arched.

  “Selling your body for money…only without the money part.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Yet even with…chops…you decline my offer.”

  He didn’t look upset, just curious.

  She lifted her chin, letting the glasses hide her expression. “I’m sure the commander told you that I’m already…involved with someone else.”

  “Among our people, some women chose to have more than one mate. You could have all I have offered…and someone else. Naturally I’d have to be first mate.”

  Something else Gaedon had failed to mention.

  “Too late for that.”

  “First in…importance, not first in line.”

  “Oh.” Sara blinked. “Our people only have…one mate at a time.”

  Helfron’s eyes sparked with amusement. “It is the same with us. It is…physics, is it not?”

  Sara had to chuckle. “I suppose it is.” He knew that wasn’t what she meant. “Don’t know how you juggle more than one…relationship, though, even if it is one at a time.”

  It was his turn to shrug, the movement elegant. “Some are easier than others.”

  “Well, most of the people who know me would tell you I’m not ever easy.” She forgot she was being mean to him and grinned.

  He smiled back. It was actually kind of charming without the petulance. He was very good looking, even if he was wearing pink satin and a shit load of lace.

  “I had noticed.”

  Sara shrugged. “I’m afraid the temper goes with the hair.” Had Miri had a temper, too? She’d certainly had the hair.

  His gaze went to her hair and lingered, but what he thought of it, he kept to himself.

  “May I ask a question?” Sara arched her brows. He nodded, almost warily it seemed. “If I were to accept your offer, would you…permit…me to do this?” She indicated the club.

  He stared at her for a moment. “Our ways are…different.”

  “Had a feeling you’d say that.” She shrugged. “Deal breaker for me.”

  “There are many types of harmonies.”

  “But I like this kind.”

  He nodded slowly, almost absently, as if he’d already moved on. Kind of cold, but okay.

  “So, this war of Miri’s…you, your people, think you can finish it?” He looked and sounded skeptical.

  Miri’s war? Excuse me? But she didn’t say it. Be hard to explain how she knew what she knew.

  “Shouldn’t it be finished? It’s gone on a long time.”

  “Your colonel believes the Dusan will attack here first. Why should we get involved if we are not the target?”

  “You’re not the primary target. If he beats us, it’s just a hyper-hop, skip and jump to you.”

  “This is Gaedon’s assessment, as well.” His lids drooped even lower, as if assessments were too, too boring. “He believes Xever would not need so large a fleet to eliminate these two ships.”

  He made them sound like paper ships.

  “Maybe. Or we scared the crap out of him.”

  His gaze skimmed the room. “You think you are so…frightening?”

  “Just because we play hard, doesn’t mean we can’t kick ass when we need to. And we did kick his ass. Twice. Adin under estimated us. Now you think he’s over estimating us. But he still doesn’t get it.” And neither do you.

  “Get what?”

  “That not being our friend is a bad thing.”

  A small smile curved the edges of his mouth.

  “I see.”

  She hoped he did. It was about time someone did.

  He hesitated. “Even if we were to defeat this armada Xever is putting together, it will not be the end of the Dusan. They will just build more ships.”

  Sara shrugged. “Lop off the head of the monster and it dies.”

  “Adin Xever won’t risk his own life. It is too dear to him.”

  “My m
oney’s on the colonel. He’ll get him to come out and play.” Sara dropped her chin and let him see a wide-eyed blink.

  There was an odd, sharpening of interest. It didn’t show in his eyes. It was an under current that flowed between them. Had she said something she shouldn’t?

  “Perhaps he will come…to get you, key keeper.”

  Sara chuckled softly, her chin lifting again. “I’m not a key keeper.”

  It was the truth. She was the key.

  No surprise he didn’t believe her.

  “If that is true, as the descendent of Miri, you could still bestow symbolic power to the right side.”

  “The only power I’ve ever sought, or could bestow, is self-determination. And I can only bestow that on myself. That would be the self part.” The conversation had taken an odd turn. “We have a saying in my world about absolute power corrupting absolutely.”

  His mouth tightened a bit. “We have not misused our power.”

  “But you haven’t used it. You’ve let tyranny flourish, almost unchecked.”

  He didn’t like that, but he hid it better this time.

  “You say what you think.”

  It didn’t sound like a compliment.

  “So do you.” She wasn’t being complimentary either.

  His eyes heated suddenly. “Not everything.”

  Sara shrugged. “I’m not a leader, so I can.”

  His lids lifted. “You are wrong.” His gaze swept around. “And this is not your proper setting.”

  Something wasn’t right. They were fencing, but it was more like he was probing her defenses, finding her boundaries, rather than trying to persuade her to change her mind. She laughed softly.

  “You think a pile of rock, prostitute clothes, and a girl bird, are my proper setting?”

  Another elegant shrug, but his eyes told her he didn’t like her assessment of his gifts.

  Sara rested her chin on her arms and studied him over the top of her glasses before she spoke.

  “I hate to tell you,” actually she didn’t, “but this is a huge step up from my previous setting. You think I’m acting trashy to put you off. I’m just getting in touch with my roots tonight.” She stared at him, but he didn’t say anything. “I worked my ass off to get here. This is where I live and it is completely my proper setting because I chose it. It is the only setting that would make me happy.”