Authors: Pauline Baird Jones
She was ninety-nine percent sure he went to Keltinar. She’d have been one hundred percent sure, but she didn’t believe in absolutes. She couldn’t think of any reason he’d want to go there or how he’d know about it.
“Uh, Doc?”
Doc blinked and refocused on the General. “Sir?”
“You’re glowing again. And what’s that?” He indicated a HUD once again hovering over the conference table. And he had his hand curled around the butt of his weapon again.
It looked like a movie graphic on steroids, with equations and graphics and maps flowing in and out of view. If that was what was going on inside her head, it was a shock she didn’t have more than a slight headache. She looked down. She wasn’t just glowing, she was
glowing.
“Sorry, sir.” She reined in the glow and the HUD. His grip didn’t relax.
“So you think we can change the alien element and then all we’d have to worry about is the Gadi.”
“If we get access to the stored ships, the Gadi will be less aggressive.” She frowned. “Some of the manufacturing facilities were on other planets, and they were found and used by the Dusan and the Gadi, but there is a facility here on Kikk, on the ocean floor like the last one. One geared to manufacturing their latest stuff. The ships are better than the ones we used last time. There are more weapons and shields we could bring online to protect the outpost, too.”
“They had shields? Why would the Garradians lock the shields?”
That was the problem with doing the impossible. People started expecting you to
know
the impossible. “Maybe they hoped the outpost would be destroyed. Maybe they thought the cloak was enough. It doesn’t matter. It is locked.”
“And you don’t know how to unlock it.”
That question prompted a good news/bad response. “That would be yes and no, sir. I know
how
to do it, but
I
can’t do it.”
Halliwell paced toward her, stopping to lean on the table in front of her, his face inches from hers. “What?”
“The rest of the outpost requires someone with a specific genetic string to complete the unlocking process.”
He shook his head. “What?”
“I think we assumed that the Key’s nanites were the unlocking mechanism, but it was more likely a
genetic
string. It was in her DNA.”
“So this new key could be anywhere, anytime, which makes the odds of us finding someone with that specific genetic string, what?”
“Not as bad as you’re thinking. The people who lived on this outpost were all related to people in
this
galaxy. It’s possible that a descendent of
our
Key could have unlocked the outpost, too, but we found it first. Think about it. The legend of
a
key could have been the knowledge that there were two keys. Or several keys.” She frowned. “These people know so little about the Garradians, it’s embarrassing.”
“Didn’t you ever play gossip when you were a kid, Doc?”
Doc blinked. “I was never a kid, sir.”
He twitched. “Well, trust me. It doesn’t take long for information to become distorted and lost.” He rubbed his face. “So you think there might be someone in this galaxy with the correct genetic string? How do we find him? Or her? Or them? And persuade them to help us?”
The peeps and the outposts had extended her reach unbelievably far, but telling him that might make him twitch again. Or have him diving for his gun.
“I can use the outposts to search—”
There was a transport wash, and an internal
voila
from her nanites. When the wash and
voila
faded, Helfron Giddioni stood there.
The General didn’t look like he appreciated the irony of Hel being the second Key to the outpost. She had a feeling Hel would. He loved irony.
* * * * *
Vidor took up an orbit on the far side of the Kikk moon. He did not require the cover the moon provided, but it would prevent an accidental collision of his cloaked ship and an Earth ship. There was much activity around the two Earth ships, but no sign of interaction with the hidden outpost somewhere below. He had to assume they used direct transport to move back and forth. His scan had detected her aboard the ship called the
Doolittle
. Much information about the Doctor had been deliberately concealed, but Bana had proved to be a surprising resource.
The woman, Doc, had failed to settle into their world. Had fought to leave and failed at that, too. Had eventually been isolated, deemed unstable, though Bana said she had seemed lucid when Bana met her as child. If she was
the
Doctor—and like Bana he was now sure she was—it cast an interesting light on the past, on the conflict that eventually tore through the fabric of their world, that brought them to this reality, their current need. If he succeeded in stopping her from coming to their world, he did not know what would change, but he was sure his longing, his desire for her would not be one of those things.
If Bana were right, if she must be persuaded, then he would persuade her to come with him. He wouldn’t confine her to a life, a world she did not want. He would give her not just a universe, but as many as she wanted. They would live aboard ship and travel.
She’d have plumbing.
There was also the problem of wives for Eamon and Cadir. He’d sworn to provide them when he claimed the doctor for himself. He would fulfill his word on that matter as well. His men would return home with wives and the hope of children.
* * * * *
“I appreciate the rescue, General, but it might not have been a wise move to take my side in the current dispute.” Hel seemed unperturbed by his abrupt removal from his ship.
“Rescue? You were in trouble?”
He’s the one.
It wasn’t a question, but Doc’s peeps took it as one.
There are others, but he’s the one you want.
Because he’s the better match? The closest you could grab?
You like him.
It was like having the General in her head, only without the judgment. She couldn’t even pretend they didn’t know what they were talking about. They were in her head and
the
y weren’t in denial.
“That would explain your fleet’s movements in our direction,” Doc said, watching about half the fleet now heading toward their outpost on a HUD inside her head. Her voice pulled Hel around to face her.
Satisfaction flared in his eyes, but his voice was neutral. “You look…well.”
She had to smile at him. “I am well, thank you.”
See, you like him.
Okay, so I like him. He saved my life.
The sudden silence said more than words—or thoughts. What had the peeps been doing since the Garradians left, besides getting too smart for their circuits? Aware the General was glaring at her, Doc tried to pull on a more professional persona, but she did wonder what Hel was thinking—and what he’d think when he found out why he been yanked onto the
Doolittle.
Hel forced his gaze and his thoughts from Delilah, striving to still the rumbling of his stomach. Glarmere had lacked the stomach to torture him directly, but had hoped hunger would make Hel reasonable. The man had much to learn about winning battles, wars, and knowing his enemies. He’d been clever about breaching the security in the Leader’s quarters, but that had been his single—and last—clever act.
The General keyed his radio and ordered a tray of food. Hel nodded thanks as he slipped into a seat halfway between the General and Delilah. As his thoughts spun with names of possible traitors and questions about why he’d been snatched to the
Doolittle
, he studied Delilah from under lowered lids.
The contrast between his last sight of her and how she looked now was stunning. All traces of her ordeal were gone from her skin, but the marks had been more than erased. Her pale skin shimmered in the ugly lighting so common on the Earth ships. Her dark hair almost seemed alive, as it shifted with each subtle movement of her head. Her eyes gleamed, the color of them changing and giving him glimpses of that lavender that told him she was as aware of him as he was of her. Her mouth seemed fuller and more inviting, and it appeared she had to fight to keep the edges from tilting up in a smile. She was once again dressed in military garb and the lines of her body were alert and still dangerous, but he also sensed a lessening of tension in her that was apparent now that it was gone.
Before, even when she was still, she didn’t seem to be
still
, he realized now, perhaps caused by the demons inside her head? Did this change mean this had somehow changed? With the General sitting at the head of the table like a storm waiting to break loose, Delilah avoided looking directly at Hel, but he knew, he
felt
her studying him, too. Whatever bond connected them, it had grown stronger with each contact and each separation.
He regretted letting her go, but logic told him she’d be dead if he hadn’t. A pity logic did not seem to mitigate a bone deep longing for everything to be different in his life and hers. It felt like they belonged together, though people in both their galaxies would vehemently dispute this. Even as something in him pulled him toward her, a deep panic made him want to flee. He did not recognize this sensation. He had not felt this pull from the mother of his son’s. Everything in his life had taught him that this level of need was a weakness to be rejected with every fiber of his being. So why did every fiber of his being pull toward her? She could cost him everything he wanted: his position, his power, his freedom and he had to struggle to care.
Hel ate as much of the food provided as he could manage. It lacked many things, a pleasing flavor being the one he missed the most, then lay down the eating utensil and pushed the tray away. He needed to find out why he had been brought to this ship; the rest would have to wait.
“I am surprised my ship did not detect the transport signature.”
Halliwell shot a look at Delilah, though Hel could not call it an alarmed look.
Delilah had a fleeting questioning look, followed by an almost imperceptible shake of her head that made her hair shift, the strands stroking her cheek. His fingers tingled, remembering the feel of her skin. His fingers clenched into fists, and it took willpower to relax them again. It was almost amusing, the way none of them asked the questions teaming in the silence. For Hel, not asking was his only power play. He was on their ship; for all he knew, he’d exchanged one jail for another. Without the power of the Leadership behind him, what did he have to bargain with?
“There’s been no mention of your arrest in the diplomatic channels.”
Why did Halliwell look at Delilah before he spoke or after and sometimes both? Something had shifted in the power balance between them, though Delilah’s aspect was that of respectful soldier.
Hel shrugged. “I am being kept in isolation to make me more reasonable. Glarmere hopes he can force me to resign, thus sparing him the ugly process of deposing me.”
The edges of Delilah’s mouth twitched. “He doesn’t know you very well.”
Hel smiled. “No, he doesn’t.” That she did both delighted and terrified him.
“What did you do?”
Halliwell’s words and tone were not diplomatic, and Delilah gave a slight wince.
“I engaged in illegal communications with you, General.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He blinked and almost managed to look sorry.
“It was necessary. Glarmere was in contact with someone on this ship as well.”
“We know.” This time Delilah didn’t look at the General. “We’re rolling up the network, both here on our ship, on the outpost, and on the
Apollo.
“I was in this process, as well, which is why Glarmere was forced into open action,” Hel admitted. Though breaking Carig would take time. His hatred of Hel’s family line was wide and deep.
“So at the moment you’re a man without a galaxy.” The General was unable to hide his satisfaction, though he did look guilty almost immediately.
“Nor am I in control of the Gadi fleet.” Hel said with quiet force. The General needed the reminder that this made his ships vulnerable, too.
“Can Glarmere order the fleet to attack?”
Hel hesitated. “Not without my codes or action from the Council.”
“But some of your ships are heading this way.” Halliwell activated one of their HUDs.
“The loyalties of these ships’ commanders were in question before my capture,” Hel admitted. “Glarmere may have convinced them of the necessity to act sooner, rather than later. And if he delivers the outpost, many on the council will not censure his methods.”
“Made a lot of enemies, have you?”
The General was going to have to decide who his friends were before it was too late.
“As have you, General—at least among my people.”
The General’s scowl deepened. “I agreed to allow your people on the outpost—which they haven’t done yet.”
“You were going to give the order,” Delilah’s voice cut into the exchange, “perhaps go with your people to see the outpost?”
“I was.”
“So if the order doesn’t come?”
“Glarmere won’t act until the other ships are in position to assist him.” Hel hesitated. “He had help getting on my flagship, but most are loyal to the position and to me. They won’t act without proof I have been legally deposed.” He hoped. He hesitated. “Do you intend to withdraw from the galaxy?”
“Not without my people,” Halliwell growled the words.
Hel tensed. “I am useless to you as a hostage.”
The look Delilah sent the General was interesting. It looked similar to one a woman gives her mate or a mother gives her child. He reacted like a small boy, sighing and finally nodding. Hel looked at Delilah now that he was free to do so. He kept his expression bland, though his eyes ate her up. Purple flickered in her eyes, as if she felt their nonverbal communication as deeply as he did.
“Your rogue ships aren’t our only problem,” a hesitation and a quick glance at the General, before she added, “Hel.”
The General might have growled. Hel ignored him because Delilah was more interesting. She didn’t move, but the General’s HUD changed. He stared at the ships, counted them and noticed their positions. As if she knew he needed it, the HUD zoomed in on one—the ship he’d scanned at Feldstar. He looked at Delilah, a brow arching.