Authors: Pauline Baird Jones
Hel combined all available data to create a galactic map showing the abduction/interception points of the missing thirteen women and all ship movement energy signatures from before the first abduction. Delilah’s abduction was close to one of three areas of activity. All three areas were interesting. All were close to shipping routes and partially hidden by large planet masses. A ship would have to be almost on top of them for detection to occur.
He honed in on the area where Delilah had gone missing, keyed in additional search parameters, and put the map in motion. His search revealed a faint, but unusual energy signature in the area. It was muddied by Delilah’s ship and the
Doolittle’s
rescue craft. He marked that signature and turned his focus to the other two areas of activity, neither of which had been as impacted by search ships. The pattern was in both those areas, as well. He keyed in a galaxy-wide search for that pattern. It would take time, but it was a place to start.
He found it interesting that there was no information or alert on a ship or ships of unknown designation during the time of the abductions. Did that mean that the unknown ship had the ability to cloak in a way that even the Kikk outpost couldn’t track? Or did it mean that someone had suppressed the information for their own purposes?
If no one was concealing this information, there was a new player in the galaxy—one with the ability to hide from everyone.
The energy signature could be from their hyperspace drives, or the anomaly could be occurring when the ship or ships dropped cloak or used their energy weapon. Their ships also had to drop cloak for transport. It was possible to use an adversary’s weakness—such as the scanning holes—to hide this activity. If the signature was from using the energy beam, they were going to be much harder to find. They wouldn’t need to, or they would take care not to, use this beam near their bolt-hole.
Hel assumed that the General’s people were doing the same assessment he was doing. Delilah had managed to run a scan on the tractor beam. This information had been pulled from something called a “black box.” The General had included some of that information in the data burst. He wished he knew if he had all available information. The energy signature was close to the one he was searching for, but not a perfect match. He added this energy pattern to his search parameters.
He pulled up the abduction reports again. None had been able to send a warning. Interesting that Delilah had managed to contact her people, and provide information about the nature of the attack. He considered what he’d learned—and what he still needed to determine. He would have to tell Halliwell anything he could find out through other means. With their new friendliness, it was important to appear helpful. He flipped through the reports. He would provide all of them to the General, just not all at once.
He picked out the abductions closest to where Delilah went missing. Those would interest the General, while providing an incomplete picture. His report as complete as he wished it to be, he sent it to the General as a data burst using their secure communication channel.
Next, he needed eyes on the galaxy. He needed to get his people scanning for that energy signature and for unknown ships in the blind spots. He pulled up maps on Gadi ship deployments. He’d tagged the commanders he considered loyal and noticed that there’d been some unreported shifts in some deployments. For some reason, suspect ships were now positioned closer to the Kikk Outpost. Ship’s commanders had a certain amount of autonomy. It made no sense to tie their hands and inhibit their ability to respond. It was assumed, however, that any change in position would be reported as soon as possible. He searched through his communications and found the notifications buried in inconsequential chatter.
Someone had hoped he wouldn’t notice.
He ran a deployment scenario for maximum scanning ability, noted prime positions and sent orders for the new deployment grids, including scanning instructions with the patterns he’d identified. He tagged the order as high priority. It would be treason for any of them to ignore the orders without contacting him to explain their position.
He did have one other resource he could use.
In the time before the defeat of the Dusan, in the days before the Garradian cloaks, he and his Ojemba squads had used planetary bodies to hide their movements. Now—as then—his Ojemba allowed him to do things that the official Gadi Leader couldn’t. The scan holes he didn’t know, his men would. But he needed to decide how little he could get away with telling them. He wanted good information but didn’t want them to know what he was looking for. Since the fall of their common enemy, his men’s loyalties had become…flexible. They followed the money and had an instinct for going where the rewards were greatest.
A missing expedition crew member could command a high price. He could outbid other interested parties, but if he went too high, it would start a feeding frenzy—and tip off his enemies. If Carig knew of the Chameleon from leaks via the expedition, it wouldn’t be long before someone figured out it was Delilah.
With traitors on both sides, betrayal was inevitable.
Hel smiled. It felt good to be back in the plot and counterplot zone.
* * * * *
“She is—” Eamon stopped, unable to find the words he needed to describe the woman.
Vidor could have finished it with “dangerous.” When she’d come out of the tent, she’d worn lethal like a coat. He’d seen many soldiers in action, but none had sent a chill down his back in quite the way she did. And then she’d shifted, that was the only word for it, into something else. She’d looked curious, assessing, almost harmless—until he realized how little she revealed of her thoughts.
There was no outrage, no tears, no trembling demands to know why she’d been taken. Just that quiet assessment of everything and everyone. Her study of him had been thorough and detached. But he had confirmed the usual intensity of her eye color. And he’d noted that the color seemed to change with her shift in moods. Her expression stayed remote and indifferent, as if they’d inconvenienced her in some minor way. It appeared as if she was learning, but what was there to learn? They’d taken great care to disguise who and what they were. Loyalty must be taught before knowledge could be shared.
Cadir rubbed his aching neck. “She looks so small.”
Eamon would make no comment on her size. He was still having some difficulty walking. Or explaining how she’d been at his feet without him noticing.
Vidor would not soon forget the ruthless efficiency with which she’d taken down his men—even turning their own weaponry back on them. He’d surprised her and he’d still almost missed her.
“I will toss you for her,” Cadir said, his gaze fixed on where she’d passed from sight. He was too young to hide his desire, and he lacked Eamon’s reason to control his thoughts.
He was the youngest. Based on seniority, the woman should be Eamon’s, though Vidor, as leader could claim any woman he desired at any time. None had tempted him, but this one did. He didn’t like admitting it, but he must.
“She will choose.” They’d allowed all the women the illusion of choice, but this one wouldn’t be fooled by illusions, nor would she be interested in boys. They’d learn. This was one of the reasons they were here.
* * * * *
Doc distracted herself from her gnarly surroundings by mulling what she’d observed so far. These people spoke Standard, but with that hint of Slavic accent that made her feel like she should recognize it. Logically she knew she couldn’t, but it still nagged at her.
The encampment
looked
dug in, but without commerce it couldn’t be anything but temporary. It appeared they were fishing for women and weren’t in a hurry about it. One of the girls was seriously pregnant, the other medium well. The other women could be, too, based on the smug expressions on the faces of the men with them. Good thing she had her own birth control. It didn’t appear to be on offer, though any guy who tried to take her to bed had more to worry about than her ability to conceive.
Their expedition had no intell on the group. No way would Halliwell have let her fly alone if he’d known about the girl hunt.
Interesting that they had the technology to bring down ships, but expected the women not to realize they had this technology. In fact, they seemed to have pretty low expectations about women. That wasn’t that unusual in this galaxy, but she was sure they weren’t from this galaxy. They knew all the players here and this bunch wasn’t one of them.
It was kind of funny they were going to all this trouble to find women when all they needed was match.com.
Doc finished with the pit toilet and emerged to find Bana waiting with a bowl of water, a piece of nasty-looking soap and a coarse, primitive towel. She also had one of those Moonie gowns over her arm.
The woman touched her chest. “I’m Bana.” Then she pointed to Doc. “What’s your name?”
Doc blinked a couple of times and turned to wash her hands and face, turning the water a dirty brown from the mud she’d smeared on her face and hands. She took her time. She didn’t plan to be mute forever, just until it no longer served a useful purpose. She was smarter than these people. It wasn’t arrogance, but a biological fact. She’d find their ship and take it. Payback was a bitch, but totally deserved in this case.
She turned to find Bana holding out the robe. Doc stared at her until she sighed and tossed the robe to one side.
“We’ll
talk
about clothing later.”
That sounded like she suspected Doc understood her. Doc bumped up her IQ a few points, as she studied her with more care. Her pale blue eyes were calm and a bit amused, as if she knew a joke that Doc didn’t. Doc didn’t let this bother her. At the moment, there was a lot the old woman knew that Doc didn’t, but that would change because
she
didn’t know Doc. After a long moment of clashing gazes, Doc gave her a few more IQ points. Better to overestimate, then underestimate. She could afford to be generous.
Outside the light continued to fade, so it must be moving toward nightfall. She didn’t think ahead to how she’d deal with that. No sense borrowing trouble until it got here. The encampment looked more dispirited than before. It wasn’t fair. Sara Donovan got shot down and met a hunky alien who fell in love with her. Doc got yanked out of the sky and ended up in 2000 B.C. with three barbarian morons.
But she wasn’t bitter.
She looked around.
Okay, she was bitter.
The three barbarians were still huddled around the dwarves’ dinner table like they were waiting for her. The youngest showed some rather obvious signs of interest. It didn’t surprise her that the other guy had his body parts under better control. She’d been pretty emphatic with her knee when they first met.
Quick-draw Conan frowned. “Where is her robe?”
Doc wasn’t surprised they wanted to get her out of her clothes. They
were
guys.
Bana and Conan exchanged a look that lasted long enough to be interesting. There was a curious dynamic between her and Conan. He gave off “I’m in charge” vibes, and yet it appeared Bana could exert some control over him. Doc filed it away for further consideration as Bana pointed to a stool and indicated Doc should sit. Doc hesitated long enough to be annoying. When she complied, she was unable to suppress a wince of pain.
Conan snapped his fingers and the henchman with the blood flow problem hastily filled a crude mug with an amber liquid. He shoved it toward her, some of the fluid sloshing onto the table. The wood smoked where the fluid hit it.
Conan mimed drinking. “It will help with the pain.”
She wrapped her hands around the cup, noting the intent way they all watched her. With a flair for the dramatic she didn’t realize she had, she waited a five count, then pushed it away.
Conan pushed it back. “
Drink
.”
The rest of them gave her encouraging nods. Why didn’t they just say, “Please drink our booze and get mindlessly drunk. When you sober up, you’ll be the girl half of a boy-girl combo, living in a tent, and stirring a pot filled with my dinner.” It would have been more subtle.
“It will help you relax.” Horny boy’s smile was almost charming—a bit of surprise considering what she’d done to him.
Relax was the one thing she didn’t dare do, and not just because of the barbarians. She could feel
them
pressing close, as if they sensed her vulnerability in this tech-deficient environment. She needed more than what they were offering to survive. She needed to multitask more than she needed air, food and water. Fear helped her focus, but
their
presence created other problems with her concentration. It left her stuck in place, when what she needed was to
move
.
Don’t let them get you, Del.
“Drink,” Conan said again.
Doc picked up the cup and dumped the contents on a bush. It shriveled down to a wisp of smoke that drifted toward the sky, until a slight breeze caught it and whisked it away.
She looked at Conan, her brows arched.
Conan grabbed her gaze, as if pleased to have it, and held it as he asked Bana, “What’s her name?”
“She hasn’t said.” Bana acted like they were best friends, allies against the boys.
Had the other girls fallen for this parlor trick? Doc thought about it for a couple of seconds and decided they probably had. They’d have been scared and needed someone to cling to. Bana couldn’t know Doc didn’t cling to anything but her sanity.
The space between Conan’s brows creased in a fierce frown.
“Perhaps she can’t.” This contribution came from horny henchman.
Bana appeared to consider, before saying, “She can speak.”
She wasn’t surprised when Conan kicked a stool out of the way and crouched in front of her, his gaze boring into her like a laser.
“What’s your name, woman?”
“Vidor?” There was a warning in Bana’s voice.
Doc blinked. Had anyone ever called her woman? If the truth were told, she’d never felt female even when she’d gone vamp for an op. By the time she left her mum’s gender neutral world, it was too late for her to be a real girl.
Pinocchio
with female accoutrements and an oversized brain, only she was a better liar.