Girl Gone Nova

Home > Other > Girl Gone Nova > Page 39
Girl Gone Nova Page 39

by Pauline Baird Jones


  She flicked both to “kill” settings and rolled to the side as the door slid open.

  Three shots. Three kills.

  Nice of them to fall back so her peeps could shut the door.

  Hel was still staring at the door when she put the knife to his throat.

  “Still think I’m better than no help?”

  No surprise his voice was a bit constricted. “I may have been hasty in my judgment.” A pause. “If you kill me, you will die as well.”

  She knew that. She was just making a point. Doc lifted the knife off his throat, spun it easily between her fingers and sheathed it.

  He looked at her, really looked at her. He didn’t see the woman he’d unleashed yet, but he saw her as a person and not just an annoying female. It was progress of a sort.

  His hand ran down her back and came to rest on her butt. Heat flared in his blue eyes. “Have we mated?”

  It was either kick his ass or jump his bones. Doc jumped to her feet instead. Called it Plan C.

  He followed her up in a move as graceful and fast as her own.

  “What are you called?”

  She looked away to hide another flash of pain. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault. That damn law of unintended consequences.

  “Doc. People call me Doc.” She needed to be content with what she had. The peeps kept them at bay, kept her mind clear and orderly unless they decided to leave, too. She almost laughed at herself. She was the toughest, bad-ass coward she knew.

  “And what do I call you?” He stepped close, his body heat against her back, his breath against the side of her neck. Was this a real move, real interest, or something else? She wanted real, but he didn’t trust her and she couldn’t trust him. Not now, maybe not ever again. It didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter. She owed him. He’d saved her life. She’d find a way to save him, to save the Doolittle and then she’d find a way to free him from their so-called marriage. She owed him that, too.

  “A pain in the ass?” How ironic. In the other timeline, Hel had known her name and she’d kept it from Conan. Now Conan knew more of her name than Hel.

  Somewhere Fate was laughing its ass off.

  

  Hel fought against the uncomfortable sensation that somehow he had disappointed this woman. Why should he care? She was his ma’rasile by accident, not by choice. It shocked him how freely she shared her weapons with him, that she turned her back on him with no evidence of unease. If he ended her life, he would die as well, this was true, but he would keep his eyes on her. Trust did not come easily to him and trusting a woman? As this one had said, not bloody likely.

  She adjusted the straps that secured her weapons, and he realized he was not suffering by having to watch her. There was strength in her, an innate grace that pleased, and she wore danger as easily as she wore her military uniform.

  He liked danger. He loved women. As Kalian, he would not be her reluctant mate, but as Leader? She would not fit their ways, any more than the Key would have. In many ways she recalled the Key to his mind. Both were cool and confident, but with some deep sorrow in their core that he sensed, rather than saw. She hid everything that mattered to her. She was not just dangerous, but she was, Hel suspected, one who attracted danger. Or was it that she sought it out? It was not a good quality in a mate.

  He wished to take her to bed, not to take his bridge with her at his back.

  A memory, more felt than seen, tried to break free of restraint in his mind, but couldn’t. Was she part of what he sensed he’d forgotten? How could she have any part in his life when they’d never met, when they’d had no chance to meet? She was his ma’rasile. This still astonished him. Despite what he felt, this was a truth he could not escape. He’d felt his strength return, felt the itching ease around the mark about the time she’d come onboard his ship. In this she did not lie. Somehow, some way, a permanent bond had been forged between them.

  A long story.

  He wished to hear this story, but first he would take back his ship.

  “What is the cost of your help in taking back my ship?”

  “We work together to defeat Conan and his boys, to protect your people and mine.”

  “My fleet helps your two ships in exchange for what?”

  “Access to the outpost?”

  Her diplomatic skills were poor. Or she knew this would never be acceptable to him.

  “Control of the outpost.” He would settle for no less than their due.

  She shrugged. “The General likes the idea of joint access.”

  Since Halliwell did not like anything, he doubted this.

  “We will allow you the access given us the past two of your years.” He let his disdain show. “And now I suppose you will withdraw your assistance.”

  The look in her eyes was impossible to decipher.

  “You suppose wrong.”

  “Because you are my ma’rasile?”

  “No.” Her tone invited him to drop the discussion. She started to turn away from him.

  He grabbed her arm, forced her to look at him. “Why would you help me except to save your own life?”

  Her chin lifted. “That’s my business.”

  “If I am to trust you, you will make it mine.”

  Her lips tightened and he thought she would refuse him.

  “I owe you one, okay?”

  He frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “I pay my debts.”

  “What debt could you owe me?”

  “It’s part of that long story. If we survive, maybe I’ll tell you.”

  Her tone said, probably not.

  “And if we try and die?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone dies.” An odd look altered her face. “Living is the hard part.”

  In his head he heard a voice pleading with someone to live, to fight. His voice? Even as he thought this, the voice faded into that closed place in his mind.

  “Is there a plan?” He must clear his head, his thoughts, and focus on the task at hand.

  Her sudden grin hit him like a blow.

  “I always have a plan.”

  That was not what he’d meant. He’d assumed General Halliwell was at the helm of this move, but this woman would be hard to steer. There were clues her mind was unusually agile. Curiosity and his attraction to danger had gotten him into trouble more times than he could, or would count, but he was unable to cure the addiction to both. Still, he was a man. Men did not ask. He arched his brows. It was an acceptable compromise.

  “You’re such a guy.”

  But she did not look displeased. He thought she bit back another grin. Perhaps it was just as well she held it back. The sight of it made him feel strange and unsettled. If he were to wrest control from his cousin, he needed to be settled. He did not know what to expect from her, but what she did was not something he could expect.

  She turned her palm up and a schematic of his ship appeared above it. It spun in the air between them.

  “We’re here.” This place on the layout lit up, painted in red. “Your bridge is here, isn’t it?”

  The proper place lit up. “Yes.” How did she manage this…magic?

  “I’ve already messed with your surveillance cameras so no one can see us once we leave this room—the feed on this room is running on a loop so your cousin thinks you’re still sleeping by the way—and I’ve closed off all access to the bridge except for this route—” It lit up on the hologram. “Locked down access in or off the ship and disabled all transport devices. Oh, and cut off communications.” She looked at him. “Did I miss anything? Any system they can use to come after us?”

  “Can you disable bridge controls?” He wasn’t sure if it was a serious question. Surely she jested about this?

  “Did that with the lockdown. Don’t want them starting a war without us.” She paused, then added, “Why hasn’t he attacked yet?”

  “He has…had control of this ship, but cannot order the other ships to attack without my command c
odes.” This was not strictly true. If the other ships’ commanders had been co-opted, and they took back the outpost, the Council might forgive their action—if they didn’t find out Glarmere had used Dusan mercenaries. All who knew this would have to die in “battle.”

  “Right.” Her gaze flicked to the goons Glarmere had assigned to persuade him to surrender those codes. He could not fault her timing. “I can see why you were playing possum.”

  He did not know this word, but forgot to ask what it meant when her expression shifted.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shifted her shoulders as if she were uncomfortable. She turned back to the hologram, as if she sought to deflect more questions.

  Life signs were added to the schematic.

  “What’s the mix of friendly to unfriendly along our route?”

  He might have looked puzzled.

  “How can I tell who is on your side? Don’t want to shoot the wrong people.”

  He considered this, studying her hologram carefully. “It appears that all that support me have been confined.” Glarmere had brought his support onboard with him. He’d brought Dusan mercenaries onto his ship. “My cousin’s forces number sixty. We are outnumbered. Perhaps you wish to reconsider your participation.”

  Her brows shot up. “That’s not outnumbered. That’s an opportunity to excel.”

  He frowned, the question coming from deep inside. “Who are you?”

  “I’m their worst nightmare.” She pointed at life signs that were now highlighted in red. “So those are the bad guys?” He nodded. “And you’re okay with shoot to kill? Cause I hate leaving bad bogeys behind me. They have a nasty habit of popping up when I least want them to.”

  “I, too, prefer not to leave enemies at my back.” She would have made an excellent Ojemba. The sense he’d said these words, or thought them before, got lost before it could fully form.

  “Does this plan work for you, Leader?”

  “It is acceptable. You will do what I tell you.”

  She looked more curious than annoyed. “Why do you get to be in charge?”

  “This is my ship.” Her mouth moved as if to open. Instead she bit her lip. Heat flared in his midsection. “You have something to say?”

  “Not anything I haven’t already said.”

  He might have been a prisoner, but it was her fault. He grabbed her wrist and turned it over. Knew he was not himself, but couldn’t hold back the words, the worry behind them. “This weakened me.”

  Expression, all hint of warmth and life, drained from her face, like blood from a mortal wound. He looked into her eyes for signs of pain and found worse than pain. He found nothing.

  “When this is over, I want a divorce.”

  Why did it feel as if he’d killed something that mattered to him? “Divorce?”

  “You gone from my life. For good.”

  “That is impossible. The bond is permanent.”

  She checked her projectile weapon, with deadly decisiveness, angled it so it was pointed down but ready to deploy. Her voice was icy cold. “The impossible just takes longer. Let’s get this over with. I’ll catch your six, Leader.”

  He knew he should say something, but did not know what. Instead he turned to the door. It slid back for him. He took a quick look out.

  “Our path is clear.” He stepped out.

  “Got three bogeys, next corner.” She shifted to his side to clear her sight line.

  He wondered how she knew this, but lacked time to ask. He brought his weapon up and the three “bogeys” went down without firing a shot. He paused, frowning. He’d heard this sound before, the soft pop, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground.

  “Is there a problem, Leader?”

  He shook his head, tried to shake the weight off his heart. It refused to go. He’d been…not himself. If they were to die…

  He looked back, but down, not able to look into the chill of her blue eyes. “It was unworthy of me to blame you for this.”

  Silence greeted his words. He forced himself to look at her. There were signs of a thaw, though it tightened the vice in his chest to see wary so dominant in her eyes. They’d flared with lavender he remembered now, when he’d lay on top of her in the bed behind them. Nothing flared in them now.

  She half-shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

  She shouldn’t be. He wished to say more, to make things right between them again, but was not sure it was possible. It had been wrong since she arrived, and he feared this was also his fault.

  “We should hurry. At some point, your cousin has to notice he isn’t in control of your ship.”

  Doc felt the shift when Hel apologized but shoved it to a brain stream off the front line. Felt a bit Scarlet O’Hara about deciding to think about it later. That was new. If she’d ever compared herself to a fictional character—and she hadn’t—she wouldn’t have expected it to be Scarlet. Of course, this was an altered timeline.

  Glarmere knew they were coming, despite or because of Doc’s spanners in his works. He threw what he could at them. Put someone onto trying to break her hold on the ship’s systems. They were pretty good, but they didn’t know what they were up against. She’d been focused on many things since going nova with the peeps, but even with her mind running multiple data streams, she had time to feel their power flowing in, around, through her and this ship. The feeling of power wasn’t unfamiliar. Her track record of doing the impossible had made her arrogant. Events in the other timeline had dented arrogant, but falling in love with Hel had changed her in ways she was still trying to process.

  The power was nice, the ability to basically toy with Glarmere was nice, too, but none of it satisfied when put up against what she’d lost. All those peeps in her system made her more, not less, aware of her humanity in a way she’d never felt before. All the things she could do only made her more aware of what she couldn’t do, what she couldn’t have. Watching Hel’s six didn’t help either. Maybe she should have insisted on taking point. Mental whining depressed her and the peeps, so she pushed it off the front line, too.

  They had about one hundred yards left to navigate. Now she was deep enough into the ship’s systems to sense Glarmere’s attempts to take back control. Not that he was doing it himself. He had people for that.

  “Your cousin’s an asshole,” she said, as a large Dusan mercenary tried to get his tree limbs around her. The bigger they were, the harder they went down. This one made a dent in the decking when he face-planted into it. It should have taken her three moves to take him down, not one. Had the peeps boosted her physically, too? She rubbed the blood from the side of her mouth. She’d caught the edge of his fist as he went down. It healed as her fingers wiped the blood away.

  She caught Hel staring at her.

  “What are you?”

  Okay, that hurt. Her chin lifted. “Your cousin’s worst nightmare.” Her peeps gave her a heads up. “He’s trying to lock us out of the bridge.”

  Someone was trying to cut controls through the panels. She had C-4. They could blow the door, but it was a delay they couldn’t afford. Doc sprinted to the door and put both hands on the other side of the wall from Glarmere’s only smart goon. Beads of light lit up her arms and hands and then the wall.

  “Flash bang in my top pocket, right leg. It—”

  “I know what it does.”

  “Oh, right.” He had been on the receiving end of one just before the battle with the Dusan started. “Get ready.” Doc’s warning was terse. “Toss it when the door pops.”

  In her mind she saw the goon positioning his cutters on the wiring. Power surged through her, through her peeps and into that wiring. As the metal tip of his cutters connected with the wires, that power went into the goon. The force of it threw him back several feet, knocking down a couple of other goons in the process.

  Cause and effect. Had to love them.

  The door popped open and Hel tossed in the flash bang. They both looked away, covered their ears
. First came the flash. Then came the bang. Then they went in. The results were predictable. Doc put some moaning goons out of their misery in one direction. Hel worked in the other direction. They met in front of the command chair. The man crouched in it, his eyes spinning in the sockets and reeking from voided bowels, wasn’t too pretty anymore. Doc wasn’t convinced he’d ever been pretty. His eyes were too close together.

  “I take it this is your cousin?”

  “On my mother’s side.”

  That was pretty defensive. Doc hid a smile. “You can’t choose your relatives.”

  “Just your friends.”

  There was something in Hel’s voice, something new that pulled her attention his way, though not her weapon. She found it in his eyes, too, though she didn’t know what it meant. Her life experience had not given her this kind of knowledge. And she didn’t have time to learn what it meant.

  “We’ve cleared most of the hostiles. I can release your people and tweak your scanning system before I go.”

  “Go? Where?”

  The sharpness in his voice and the frown were a surprise. She’d have thought he’d want her off his ship ASAP.

  “Back to the Doolittle.” And then onto the outpost. They needed the ships and enhanced shields before Conan started shooting. Halliwell wanted her to try to unlock it before they brought Hel into that mix. She disagreed with the General and made the mistake of saying it. He’d ordered her not to tell Hel he was a Key.

  “You are my ma’rasile. You must remain with me.”

  Okay, not exactly a declaration of love. Not even first cousin to a declaration of love. She pulled out a couple of pairs of flex cuffs. “If you aren’t going to kill him I should put these on him.”

  “I wish him to stand trial for his crimes.”

  “Right.” She quickly secured Glarmere, her peeps helping her out with the smell. “You should have full system control. I’ve kept the areas with bogeys locked down, but you or your people can access them.”

  She kept her gaze off Hel, though she knew he watched her, as she went to scan control and pretended to adjust the settings while her peeps did the upgrade. As soon as she finished, warnings blared as it detected the alien intrusion.

 

‹ Prev