Girl Gone Nova

by Pauline Baird Jones

  “General?”

  Giddioni looked calm and inquiring, as if he weren’t expecting the call. That didn’t mean he wasn’t

  “We have a situation.” It was an effort to sound calm.

  Giddioni’s eyes narrowed. “What has happened?”

  “We had a small fighter in transit to the outpost. It appears to have been,” he paused, “intercepted.”

  Giddioni frowned. “You let a small ship travel alone so close to the Dusan frontier?” His frown deepened. “You did receive our reports of raiding on the fringes of the frontier, did you not?”

  Halliwell tensed. “I received no warnings.” Who had stopped it? One of their people or a Gadi? He had to hope it was a Gadi. If one of their people had done this, heads would roll. He shouldn’t have needed warnings. He knew that Kikk existed on the fringes of the galaxy, close to the no-go zone that had been Dusan space. It was the first planet they’d found upon arrival in the galaxy and considered an uninhabited backwater until the discovery of the Kikk outpost. That didn’t explain why someone would attack a small fighter craft. Surely raiding parties would go after targets that promised a useable cargo, such as food or arms?

  “Our pilot mentioned an odd energy source interfering with the hyperdrive,” Halliwell said, watching the Leader. “We’ve picked up nothing unusual from the outpost.”

  Halliwell had a feeling something he’d said interested Giddioni, but he didn’t know which part.

  “I still have some resources from my Ojemba days that I can tap into for information. I will need you to transmit photographs of your missing crew members to distribute with the information request. I’ll attach a reward to the bulletin. That will increase interest.”

  Halliwell didn’t want to mention Doctor Clementyne, but Giddioni would know it when he received the transmission.

  “Doctor Clementyne was the only crew member on the ship.” Halliwell hesitated, not sure if it was possible to head off Giddioni’s curiosity, but felt he should try. “It was a Garradian fighter ship she was running some tests on.”

  If it bothered the Leader in a personal way, it wasn’t obvious on his face. This was, the General reminded himself grimly, a man who’d fooled them and his own people into thinking he was a shallow idiot, while he covertly ran a dangerous and ruthless counterinsurgency. He’d managed to get his agents aboard the Doolittle, and they’d almost accomplished their mission of securing the Garradian key for Giddioni.

  “I did not realize the doctor was part of your military.”

  “It was a civilian test.” Would he buy that? Halliwell sighed internally. When had Giddioni ever “bought” anything Halliwell said? “And she had business on the outpost. At the time we didn’t realize we’d be so close on her heels or I’d have insisted she wait.”

  “Where was her craft intercepted?”

  The question was logical, but it still galled Halliwell to give him any information, galled him to have to ask for assistance in the matter.

  “I’ll forward coordinates from her last transmission. We’re heading there now, but we’re still hours away.”

  Giddioni looked down for a long moment, before looking at the screen again. “Your doctor is most resourceful. Perhaps you will find her waiting for your arrival. Of course, you will let me know if she is safe.”

  It was a logical request, but it still made Halliwell uneasy. How much did Giddioni know about the doctor and how much did he think he knew?

  “Of course. Everything all right there?”

  The Leader’s brows arched. “Of course. My science team should be heading for Kikk in the next couple of days.”

  “That’s good.” He almost meant it. To get his people back, he’d do a deal with the devil himself, and now that Doctor Clementyne was missing, the Gadi scientists might be his only hope for getting the portal working again. Halliwell reached for the switch to cut the connection, but Giddioni lifted his hand.

  “I have information on our mutual problem.”

  They had a mutual problem? Halliwell frowned. “We have a lot of mutual problems.”

  “True.” A slight smile appeared, then disappeared. “This one concerns the flow of information, or should I say lack of flowing information?”

  Halliwell tensed.

  “One of my minister’s passed on a name.”

  “Oh?” It took considerable effort not to visibly tense.

  “Chameleon.” Giddioni’s brows arched. “Does the name mean anything to you?”

  “It’s a lizard, a small reptile found on my planet. “

  The brows stayed arched. “I have heard the word used to describe someone who disguises who they really are, General. Could this use be a code name, perhaps?”

  “Due to security imperatives, I can neither confirm nor deny that, Leader.” It was, he knew, an admission, whether he wanted it to be or not. “I would be very interested in knowing who told your minister that…word.”

  The Leader shrugged, the movement very French. “As would I. All I was able to ascertain was that it is a male in your diplomatic corps. Do you retain security video of the meetings?”

  Halliwell nodded. In his spare time, he’d been looking at the video the Doc had tagged for him.

  “I will send you an image of my minister and his entourage. It may help you trace the connection on your end. I haven’t determined if they have covert communications or rely on their physical meetings for their exchange of information.”

  “Would your man use a surrogate?”

  “Probably. He is not a risk taker.” Again that slight smile.

  “I’ll get my people on it, see if we can plug the leak.” Halliwell, after a brief struggle, added, “Thank you.”

  “We both have, what is the phrase your people use? Skin in the game?”

  Did he have skin in the game? And how long would his skin stay in the game?

  “I do have a favor to ask, General.”

  Halliwell tensed again. Quid pro quo wasn’t a shock, but it was a worry.

  “Political intrigue is SOP with my people.”

  The Leader had picked up a lot of slang in the last two years.

  “You must be aware that there is a divide in our ruling class. Allowing us onto the outpost has helped quell some of my people’s concerns.”

  “But not all of them?”

  Giddioni’s look was rueful.

  “There is an effort being made to restrict my movements. I’m aware of your people’s dislike of our alliance mating practices.”

  Halliwell felt his gut tighten.

  “If I had the time, I would explain the process to you, but I don’t. I will just tell you that my freedom of movement is important to both of us.”

  Halliwell wasn’t sure he believed that, but he was curious about the favor—and worried.

  “I need you to reconsider your refusal to countenance an alliance mating between our people. I need you to reopen discussion on the subject.”

  He was asking for his trust. Halliwell knew this, knew he had to make a choice. No, he’d already made it he realized. His choice was based on trusting the Doc.

  “Done.” A discussion wasn’t an agreement.

  That put a hint of surprise on the Leader’s face.

  “Thank you.”

  “Was there anything else we need to discuss?”

  Giddioni shook his head. “Please keep me posted on your search for the doctor.”

  Halliwell nodded and cut the connection. Just in time. Being polite to the Leader was hard work.

  * * * * *

  Doc opened her eyes to a world that looked like it had been turned on its head. She looked up and saw ground. Even dazed, she knew that was wrong. She gave a tiny shake and realized she was upside down, not the world. Except…shouldn’t she be dead?

  She ran the data. Based on pod damage, angle of entry and impact with the atmosphere, she shouldn’t just be dead. She should be bits and pieces drifting in space, but all her pieces appeared to be intact.
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  Okay, she had a vague memory of the pod holding together against the odds until the secondary pod could deploy, but that should have only changed where she died. The thrusters designed to slow the pod’s descent had taken heavy damage. Plummeting to the ground still added up to dead.

  She looked for a reason and found lines and a bright red parachute tangled in tree branches. No one had mentioned parachutes in their examination of the Garradian fighters, but there it was. An honest to goodness alien parachute and her first involuntary nylon let-down. That explained the not-dead part. Blame the tree for being upside down.

  Gravity pulled her against her harness, and the pounding of blood inside her head suggested she make a change in orientation sooner rather than later. The ground wasn’t far and there were no visible threats. She released the harness and dropped to the ground in a cautious crouch. Heat came off the ground in waves, and beads of sweat formed on her skin. She wrinkled her nose at plant smells just enough off ordinary to let know she was on an alien planet—in case the purple moon hanging low on the horizon wasn’t enough of a clue. She eased upright, still wary, and looked around.

  Her LZ—landing zone—wasn’t that interesting. Green stuff, brown stuff and rocks. If this was Earth, she’d have known names and the edibility/survival potential of the flora and fauna, thanks to her SERE—Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape—training, but it wasn’t Earth, rendering the “living off the land” training useless to the situation. A long stay might be a problem, but she’d deal with that if she had to. At the moment, the muggy heat was her biggest problem. The flight suit held it in like a sauna, so she shrugged it off. This also put her weapon within easier reach, which was always good.

  She pulled it and did a quick recon of the immediate area, crouching to study the ground for signs of wild life. The dry, hard-packed ground yielded few clues. Only bug sounds broke the dense silence. Doc secured her weapon and turned back to her rig. A pity about her clean drawers. They were floating in space now. There was a survival pack in a compartment at the rear. She found it and tried out the compass, got a magnetic pole. That would keep her from walking in a circle.

  She extracted a packet of water and sipped it while she considered her situation. She wasn’t sure if her emergency beacon had been in the pod or in the seat. The whole ejection system had taken heavy damage, so the beacon might not be broadcasting her location. She did know the Doolittle had received her distress call, so sooner or later someone would come. They knew her course, speed and time of distress call. This was the only habitable planet within the search area they’d identify from that information. That was the good news.

  The bad news: whoever had been behind the attack was already here.

  The energy beam had originated from the planet surface, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t track her from space. They could have a cloaked ship.

  Doc checked the spare magazines for her weapon and frowned. She didn’t have enough for a sustained firefight. Time for the “evasion” portion of her SERE training. She stowed the spare magazines in her vest pockets and finished her water, retaining a small amount to make mud. She smeared this on her face and hands. She used her knife to cut some branches from the tree and tucked them in her pockets, waistband and cap. If the bogeys had heat-sensing capability the branches should break up her silhouette. Though, since she was using alien mud and tree branches, she couldn’t be certain of anything.

  She shouldered her pack and headed into the underbrush, heading due North, or the alien equivalent of North. While she’d often felt alone, she hadn’t, she realized now, been alone. Not even during her SERE training had she been this alone. It was easy to feel self-sufficient when your comfort zone was the whole Earth—or a ship full of very competent military types.

  Even they seemed subdued.

  I’m always alone, she’d told Briggs, but she’d been wrong.

  This was alone.

  Normally calm worked against her, but for now the isolation quieted her overactive mind, leaving her free to hear every little sound, magnified a thousand times by her edgy senses. Thanks to the Major she had HD vision and had trained blindfolded in order to heighten her sense of smell and hearing. Her brain began to auto-filter sounds and scents. She needed a handle on normal to know what wasn’t normal. After a few minutes of hiking, she spotted a small, rocky bluff and angled toward it. She’d always liked the high ground. And if someone was following her heat signature, a rock cave should mess that up.

  The heat and humidity increased as the sun arced higher in the sky. Good thing she’d shed her flight suit. While it felt good to be in motion, her sense of unease built. She pulled her already silenced weapon. Her pace slowed as wary grew to near critical mass. If someone was tracking her, they were as good at being quiet as she was. Or they weren’t dirt side yet.

  Something changed, though she wasn’t sure what. A tingle across her skin or a shift in the way the air moved? Her heart thudded slow and heavy, and adrenaline began a slow bleed into her system. Her feeling of being watched went into overdrive. Someone was out there. She was certain of it.

  The underbrush shifted beneath her boots, the sound loud in the deep quiet. Even the bugs seemed oppressed into silence by the heat. Doc stopped by a large tree and eased her pack off with her free hand. It would suck to lose it, but it would slow her down if she had to move fast and it increased her silhouette. She kept the tree on her six while she did a perimeter scan.

  Her body was a coiled spring, her senses so attuned to subtle shifts in the airflow, she had dropped and rolled before her brain processed the subtle whine of something incoming. It sizzled along her back before slamming into the tree where she’d been standing.

  Doc fired in the direction of the shot, rolled and then fired again. Energy blasts hit the ground on either side of her. She did a fast, low crawl through the dense scrub toward one of the bogeys while she processed the attack.

  Three shots from three directions. They had her ringed, not easy to do unless they’d been tracking her from space. Was that what she’d sensed? Remote transport? Drop in and shoot?

  Not the way to make first contact with her.

  Face close to the ground, she concentrated on filtering out the normal ambient sounds and smells, her brain now screening for what had changed.

  “We wish to help you,” one of them called out, the sound coming from her three o’clock. His scent drifted toward her, too. That upped the opposition to four bogeys. “We observed the crash of your ship and we wish to help you.”

  By shooting her?

  “We mean you no harm.”

  This was a new voice, coming from nine o’clock. That put the bogey count at five, though she wouldn’t count her bogeys until they were all unconscious. Never assume.

  As silence once more settled in, Doc began to sort bogey sounds from nature sounds. They were pretty good, but not good enough. The subtle shift of feet on grass. Soft inhale and exhale. Different scents drifted in, too. They had edged closer, trying to tighten the ring. Did that mean they were able to track her or were they overconfident? Her hand brushed a small pebble, her fingers closed around it. She tossed it, the movement small, but directed.

  It hit the ground a few feet to her right. The sound was minute, but the response wasn’t. A light flashed from one of the positions she’d identified, striking the ground near her pebble. Firing revealed their positions.

  Time to find out if they could track her.

  She turned ghost as she low crawled through the dense ground scrub, heading straight toward the most recent shooter. She studied him through a shrub screen. His camo was of the Conan the Barbarian variety, and he was built like a tree trunk. His neck was the only missing body part. And he looked about sixteen.

  She cussed silently. The Major would expect her to use her knife and make sure the kid ceased to be a problem, but she didn’t kill babies, even ones too stupid to live. She studied the terrain for a moment, then moved to his right, carefu
l no sound gave her away. He showed no sign someone was feeding him her movements. He seemed to be focused on where she’d gone down. He could be a decoy while someone came up on her back. She checked her six, with sight and ears, then worked her way around to his. She knew her physics, knew she had to work with his weight and size, not against it. She stowed her weapon.

  There was a tree branch hanging down at about the right height. She jumped at it, her body swung up, her legs hooking his neck. A quick twist and he hit the ground so fast only a choked cry escaped his mouth. His hands came up, clawing at her legs. She took his ray gun, shot him with it, and was back under cover in the scrub before his body quit twitching.

  She hoped it was set to stun, but if it wasn’t, they had shot first.

  “Cadir?” This voice was new, but it came from a previously marked position.

  Doc was already low crawling to the next bogey. She did wonder why they didn’t just transport her up to their ship when they spotted her. Only reason not to, they didn’t want her to see their ship, but that was stupid. She knew it was there. It had yanked her out of the freaking sky. She frowned. Cadir’s clothes were pretty low tech. Was it possible she was dealing with a different adversary? No, that didn’t make sense either. They claimed to have seen her ship crash. Since it had crashed against the atmosphere, they’d have had to be up there, too. None of it made sense.

  She hated that.

  “Eamon, check on him,” the bogey directed. So this bogey gave the orders. Good to know. A young barbarian eased through the scrub, almost stepping on her as he moved to kneel by the downed Cadir.

  “He’s been stunned,” Eamon said. “She has his weapon.”

  She? How did they know that?

  She heard a muttered curse. She was pretty sure she was outside their perimeter now. She’d caught no sound or scent of further movement. If it had been darker, she’d have been tempted to let them flail around while she played ghost somewhere else, but the alien sun was high and bright, despite that low hanging purple moon.

  She had a ray gun now, too, but if she fired it, it would give away her position, unless…