Girl Gone Nova (39 page)

Doc blinked. “Um, medical care?”

“He wants you,” Hel said, his voice flat.

“Because kneeing someone in the groin and shooting them with their own gun is foreplay?” She looked at Hel, then at the General. “I was his worst nightmare. I can’t see Conan risking his whole obscure plan for a
woman.
”

“I left my ship, exposed my flank and may have lost my position as Leader to rescue a
woman,
” Hel said, his voice still devoid of inflection and too low for the General to hear.

Doc looked at him, tried to think of a response and couldn’t.

He likes you.

Now is not the time.

“What’s his plan? And what’s our move?”

Doc felt an unfamiliar frustration stir in her chest. “I don’t know.” And she hated admitting it. She
always
knew what to do. Didn’t make her right, just proactive.

Hel’s mouth twitched. “He needs to see a doctor. He should see one.” He half-turned to her. “He should see you.”

“Why?”

“It will distract him. And perhaps he will talk to you, tell you why he is here.”

“That makes sense.” Halliwell frowned, as if surprised.

“He wouldn’t tell me anything before. What makes you think he will now?”

“You escaped him. Force failed. Now he must persuade.”

“It won’t work.”

Hel’s smile was almost tender. “We know that, but he does not. He is arrogant. Information can only be helpful to us.”

“Fine.” Why was she so annoyed? She almost glared at Hel. Didn’t it bother him to have her talk to Conan? She frowned. Did she want him to be jealous? Was she having a girl moment in the middle of an op? “At least while he’s on this ship he won’t be firing on the outpost.”

She gave in to the temptation to study herself via the ship’s security cameras. And saw what she always saw: a pale woman in ABUs, minus Morticia’s vamp factor, but loaded with creepy. Hel made her feel like a girl, but she still didn’t know how to
be
a girl, and she sure didn’t want to be one around Conan.

“We need to get you a security detail—”

“I will accompany her.”

Hel still had that odd, flat note to his voice. Maybe that was his version of not happy with the situation, but being pragmatic? Doc felt her ire go down at that thought. He’d left his position to hunt for her and even more significant, he’d
set her free
after finding her, and he’d done it before he found out she was sick.

Halliwell’s objection was automatic, but Hel was ready for him. “Perhaps you have others you wish to know about this situation?”

“He’s right, sir. We need to contain the flow of information as much as possible. Briggs would be a good second choice.”

Halliwell huffed, but finally nodded. “Do we take him to the infirmary or can you treat him in the shuttle bay?”

Doc had a sudden memory of two girl-less guys on the planet. Could Conan be multi-tasking with this visit? “Shuttle bay, sir and no women anywhere near.”

He tensed. “You think he might—”

“I’d rather take precautions, sir. He’s three women short of a full complement. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“But, how could he get himself and three women off my ship?”

Doc could almost see his hackles rise. She’d put her nanite peeps up against his tech any day. Her peeps did not disagree. If they could have puffed like cats, they would have.

“On it, sir, but let’s limit our exposure until we’re sure.”

* * * * *

Vidor was not surprised when the Earth ship gave him permission to land. Two fighter ships appeared on either side and escorted him toward the
Doolittle
, toward the bay where he was to land
.
They did not concern him. He had no reason to fear them. His weapons were superior in every way. He had predicted they would talk to him and he’d been right.

He settled his shuttle where indicated and shut down his engines. She was still onboard, he could track her progress through her ship, and soon they would surrender her to him.

* * * * *

Doc had to arrange for medical supplies, so she missed seeing Conan’s arrival in person. She did watch it through the security monitors because she was curious and always would be. He strode down the ramp from his shuttle craft, his hard gaze sweeping the bay with a look that was cool and thorough. He moved with more arrogance, more authority, more confidence. If she’d had any doubts that he was the leader of his people, he put those to rest.

What, she wondered, made him so confident? Okay, so he had the military advantage, but what did he plan to do with that advantage? It wasn’t just about her. No one went to all this trouble to get a girl. She didn’t realize she’d tensed until Hel touched her shoulder.

“It bothers you to see him again?”

He’d been worried that Conan had forced himself on her, she recalled. He hadn’t, but not for lack of trying. That didn’t explain her reaction. He didn’t affect her sexually, but he did bother her, she had to admit. She was unable to be indifferent, her preferred response during an operation. The question was why? Doc tried to be strictly honest with herself, because she knew no one else would be. Was it ego? She’d never had to be rescued before. He hadn’t
beaten
her because she’d have died, so technically it was a draw.

Okay, it bothered her that he saw a female when he looked at her, but his…unpredictability also made her twitchy. She may not know that much about sex and men, or how they related to women, but she usually could predict how someone would react until she met Conan. Maybe it was his inexperience running into hers? It was almost funny, but she couldn’t summon a smile, let alone a chuckle. It could be an alien thing. She had trouble predicting what Hel would do, too. Her gut twitched, as if she were close to figuring something important out.

“What is it? What troubles you?”

She circled the idea like a vulture, afraid it would move if she settled in too fast.

“I can’t figure him out, I can’t predict what he’ll do and plan for it.” Her words were as careful as her thoughts.

“Perhaps it is because your cultures are so different.”

Doc frowned. “But our people contaminated their culture. There are things we do have in common, things we
should
have in common.”

Hel looked thoughtful, but what he thought was not clear on his face. “You believe they should be…less alien than they are?”

Doc half-smiled. “Sounds a bit whacky when you put it like that but yes. Even taking into account the lack of contact as both our societies developed and evolved, I’d have expected more points of contact than we have.”

“This troubles you.”

“Because it feels wrong. It feels like I’m missing something.” She met his gaze, felt her concentration fracture and reform into something different. She smiled at him. She could because she’d taken them off the video feed again. She did it because she needed to smile at him. It was more fun than the endless circling of her thoughts. “I hate missing things.”

She’d missed him. It hadn’t been two days since she passed out on his ship and it felt like forever.

A smile formed on his mouth as he processed the shift in her focus and followed her into the subject change. “As do I.” He smoothed a strand of hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I expected to miss you, but—” He finished with a rueful shrug.

Doc matched his rueful and raised it a grin. “I know. It’s crazy. It’s hopeless.”

“Yes.” The word suggested agreement, but the tone, the look in his eyes didn’t.

She wanted him to kiss her again, but she didn’t know how to make that happen. And then she didn’t have to do anything. Hel did it. He stepped in, bringing them together. The cool press of the wall at her back reminded her of the kiss on his ship and her blood heated in anticipation. The sense of the peeps watching was a bit unsettling, but she forgot about them the minute Hel’s mouth settled onto hers. She sank into the kiss, sank into sensation without a whimper.
This
was what she needed. This was what she wanted. She wanted him, not just for this moment but for always.

She’d only wanted one other thing in her life and she hadn’t got that one either.

* * * * *

Doc requested a medic to assist because she wanted to be able to work fast. Conan was a primitive man to his toenails, but she would not make the mistake of underestimating him. Everywhere they went, primitive man had managed to survive and thrive. Primitive didn’t mean stupid. When the Hel-induced fog faded she realized she needed to be unexpected, too. When did she forget that? He might think he had her figured out. She needed to show him he never would. She did a mental flip through her various personas. Which one would he hate? She stopped at one. Considered it. She didn’t do it that often, it was a bit too close to who she was, but in this case, that might be a good thing. She was so wrong for him.

“What?” Hel’s voice broke into her thoughts.

Doc realized she was smiling and it wasn’t a nice one. She made it nice for Hel. “I need to change. Tell the General I’ll hurry.” He looked uneasy—which made her feel more right about her decision—but let her go, left with the medic.

Doc didn’t have a lot of wardrobe options, but she could work with what she had on hand. She always did. She stripped down to her military drawers and pulled out the borrowed scrubs. Not as severe as she’d have liked, but they’d work. He’d seen soldier, might be expecting that. She used water to plaster her hair back off her face and found her computer glasses. A little makeup on her mouth took the pink out of her lips. She didn’t have time for contacts, but the peeps popped in to dim the intensity of her eye color. She let her inner geek seep out, added a stethoscope around her neck to complete the bland ensemble.

She booked it double time to the secondary landing bay, flashing her ID to the men flanking the door. She took it as a good sign that they both winced at the sight of her. She removed all signs of girl from her walk as she entered. Her peeps extended her view in interesting ways, allowing her to see and assess her impact on everyone waiting inside the shuttle bay. As impacts went, the ratio of output to reaction was well within the satisfactory range.

Predictably, Briggs looked amused without indulging in a lot of muscle play on his face.

The General blinked. For him that was like a dead faint.

Hel, well, he was himself. Inscrutable on the surface, but she felt his amusement as if they had a personal Internet connection.

It took Conan a few seconds to recognize her, to ping on her like radar on a target. He surged to his feet, his injured hand cradled against his chest. As amazing as it seemed, he
had
come here for her. His body language screamed it, and just in case she didn’t get the memo, his eyes telegraphed it. Her hackles rose and her peeps went on full alert, but none of it showed on the outside as she minced in his general direction, no sign of recognition on her face.

Conan scrubbed up pretty well, though he still favored leather in his ensemble. He’d done everything but shave. The guy could have walked into any bar on Earth and gone home with a threesome. Maybe they ought to offer him a free subscription to match.com. Give his email to Russia or the Philippines.

The next thing she noticed, he’d lost that simmering frustration that had ruled on Feldstar. This man knew his next step, knew his purpose and felt ready to embrace it.

She’d have to do something about that.

She paused by Briggs.

“Doc.”

It didn’t surprise her he didn’t ask her what the hell she was doing. He didn’t blink when she gave him a prim smile. He might have winced. The General saved her having to approach him.

“Doctor.” The tone had a question buried in it.

“General.” His lips twitched, but from humor or ire, Doc couldn’t tell. “My patient?”

She saw him decide to trust her. It felt good. He stepped back, gesturing toward Conan. Doc directed her attention to the male medic waiting by a medical setup. He winced, too, though he was too nice to look openly horrified at her androgynous geek from hell ensemble. Conan didn’t frown. Didn’t move. Just watched her approach from under hooded lids.

“What seems to be the problem, corporal?” Her tone was devoid of inflection of any kind. She held out her hand for gloves and got them. She used the explanation time to yank them on, her body language oozing dull and brisk.

She added safety glasses and then moved in for a look at the laceration. Even as her attention shifted to Conan’s injury, she could see their tableau through the security cameras in the bay. The General had kept security to a minimum. Both Hel and Briggs were armed and at full alert. She looked a bit like a dumpy blob standing in front of Conan, thanks to some slight padding around the waist. She could have done it without the padding. People saw what you wanted them to most of the time. She held out her gloved hand for his injured one. Her silence did not appear to bother him. She knew he studied her with an intensity that might have been unnerving to someone not locked in stolid. Doc lifted the temporary bandage applied by the medic and eased his fingers back so she could see the injury better.

She did her doctor thing and he acceded to each question without comment. “You’re lucky. No tendon damage.” She looked at the medic, giving him a cow blink before saying, “You’re right, corporal, he needs stitches.”

He had the equipment already set up. Doc lowered Conan’s hand to the tray with its sterile field at ready. She did the job with the fussy precision of an old man. When they finished, Doc squeezed out a “thank you” for her assistant as she stripped off the gloves and tossed them on the tray. He seemed relieved to step back. He gathered up the medical debris and rolled it and himself out of the bay with an eagerness he couldn’t conceal. Doc waited until the doors hissed closed to turn back to Conan. She pushed her stool back enough to put space between them. She planted her feet wide, resting her hands on her knees, careful to make her pose unfeminine. When she looked at him, her expression was more neutral than Switzerland. Channeling her dullest professor, she lifted both brows in a mute question.