18

It felt eerie and, yes, icky to be back on the outpost where she’d killed herself. Sara stood in the room where she’d died, not because it was crucial to the mission, but because she needed to face it. Someone had cleaned up the blood and the food she’d thrown on the floor, but the remnants of the chains still hung off the chair. And the stone was stained a dark brown under that chair. She could see it all, like a movie inside her head, and it even seemed as if she could still smell it. Adin’s scent as his mouth moved on hers. The heavy tang of the women’s perfume. The aroma of the exotic food they’d brought. The sickeningly sweet odor of her blood as it ran down her arms and pooled on the floor.

She’d been dragged in here by force and left it on a stretcher, more dead than alive.

She’d come back on her own two feet and packing lots of heat.

She tried to think of something profound to bring closure to the moment, but she was a military puke, not a philosopher. At least this time, she’d be walking out on those same two feet.

Her radio crackled. “Donovan?”

It was Fyn trying to be a military puke, too. It was cute.

“Yes, sir?” She could play military puke with him. She’d had more practice.

Even though he had no rank, the Old Man had put him in charge of the operation. It was going to be a tough gig for both of them. She didn’t know which one of them had the harder job, the bait or the bait’s husband.

“What are you doing?”

“Improving my situational awareness.” She’d been over most of the outpost, getting a feel for the layout. Not all the stops were necessary. The place where they’d kept the women was not a fun stop. In keeping with the ship they’d captured, the theme of discomfort had continued. The only comfortable room was this one and the one she figured the commander of the base had used. She could still see the calm certainty in Adin’s eyes as he outlined the situation. How had he become the kind of person who thought he was entitled to take what he wanted, do what he wanted? He looked so normal and was even charming on the surface.

Evie was right again. Some people’s “nice” was barely skin deep.

This was—Sara had to take a deep breath even to think it—her father’s legacy. He’d labeled it with his own name. He’d made the monster. Sara didn’t wonder how her mother could have fallen for him. How might Adin have affected her if she hadn’t met Fyn first? Sara had processed enough of the data from the science outpost to know that her mother had lived and worked with a bunch of aesthetes who’d quit feeling anything but intellectual curiosity. That’s why there’d been no children there.

In her way, her mother had been as emotionally starved as Sara.

Whatever mistakes she’d made, she’d protected her baby and given her a great dad. Kyle Donovan loved her. In her mind and in her heart, Sara knew this. Every memory she had of him, in every look in his eyes, there’d been no holding back, no shadow or sorrow when he looked at her. If she survived this and made it back to Earth, she was going to ask the one person who could tell her if Miri had loved him. Miss Anne, the neighbor who took care of her after they died, had been her mom’s closest friend. If she was still alive, she’d know.

“Dr. Smith says it’s ready,” Fyn’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“I’ll be right there.” Sara took one last look around, then turned and walked out. It wasn’t closure, but it was a start.

The last five days had been filled with determined preparation. From the briefings that Sara sat in on, and the insights it gave her into the Old Man’s plans, it was clear why he’d been chosen to command the Doolittle—and why he’d been the one to take his ship the furthest out from earth. He was a tough, smart son of a bitch. No matter the outcome, it was both an honor and privilege to have served with him. He was too smart to put all his eggs in one basket—or all his pieces on the game board. Too much could go wrong, even if Sara was able to lure Adin to the outpost.

So the geeks on the outpost had turned their attention to getting all possible weapons up and operational. Non-combat personnel had been moved down to the outpost and into bunkers. Everyone knew the outpost wouldn’t be hidden once it joined the fight, though the Colonel was hoping they wouldn’t have to use its resources in the battle. They did know the portal could be used to evacuate the outpost if it became necessary, but no one could say for sure where—or when—the final destination would be.

Dr. Smith and team had also been working on ways to disable or disrupt the Dusan transmitters. Both ships had the capability to transmit a broad range EM pulse, but there was no way to protect friendly craft from the disruption in their systems. The Doolittle did have some experimental, short range EM pulse missiles, but the problem always came back to the numbers the Dusan could bring to the fight. In addition to their big battle ships, they had about one hundred mid-range craft and—potentially—thousands of fighter craft. In addition to some traditional, earth style weapons, and the EM pulse missiles, the Doolittle and Patton also had a variety of high-tech, experimental space weapons. These were energy based and included plasma cannons and lasers. They also carried a full range of nukes, together with space mines that were being deployed along the corridor the Dusan had used in the two previous attacks.

The Garradian craft all had some seriously fine, ass-kicking weapons, in addition to their phased cloaks and shields. The colonel had assigned the minimum of ten men to each of the four ships. They’d stripped weapons and shields from some of the fighters and fitted them to a Dauntless squadron and a Hellfighter squadron. Literally the biggest advantage they had over the Dusan in a fight was their semi-autonomous fighting force, which gave them the ability to react and respond faster to combat situations.

Sara had no idea what kind of deal the Old Man made with the Gadi leader, but Helfron had produced pilots for the some of the cloaked ships, a bunch of grimly silent men that reminded her of Fyn. No one said they were Ojemba, but it told Sara that the Old Man had read The Scarlet Pimpernel, too. Or seen the movie. Not that Sara saw any of the Ojemba up close and personal. The Old Man wouldn’t let them on the Doolittle. Any training in the Garradian stealth craft took place under the supervision of the Patton. She’d had to sneak peeks into the Patton’s monitors to see them.

Apparently the colonel had trust issues, too.

Sara had opened an email correspondence with Hawkins, when he sent her wedding congratulations, so she knew the Ojemba guys were good. He hadn’t seen any sign of the Leader, which made Sara uneasy, though she couldn’t have said why. There was no way for Helfron to know she wasn’t on the Doolittle.

As soon as Sara was able to un-goon the various computer systems, and made sure all the shields in the fleet were at their maximum efficiency, she and Fyn were transferred to the science outpost, and then they had traveled through the portal to this outpost to put their part of the plan in motion. She found Fyn and Dr. Smith in what had been the Dusan central command. They’d converted some of the Garradian systems not affected by Miri’s lock, though none of it was neat or pretty. It was as if the Dusan were dedicated to being opposite to the Gadi every way they could—a sort of uber sibling rivalry still being played out, even though none of them knew it anymore.

They could have used any of the Dusan controlled outposts, but she knew this one would really pull Adin’s chain. This was where she’d eluded him. This was the first outpost she’d taken from him. Both Fyn and Smith were both standing by an open console. A vice held four of the transmitters they’d taken out of dead Dusan. Smith had connected them to the consoles power supply. The other two had been destroyed in the EM pulse tests.

Dr. Smith looked at her uneasily. She seemed to have that affect on him. Or maybe he just had trouble with military pukes in general.

“It worked with the sub-space transmitter deactivated,” he said. “So, it should work with it on.”

“Thanks, doc.” Sara gave him a quick smile, as she bent and studied the connections between the transmitters and the console.

“I still don’t see how this will help,” he said. “Without a, well, brain, to complete the connection, they are useless.” As he spoke, he closed the console cover and locked it down.

Sara looked up at him. “It probably won’t work, but the colonel asked me to try.”

No one but the colonel and Fyn knew that it would be her brain that would attempt to make the connection, that would try to use it to sever Adin’s connection with his armada. Talk about going into uncharted territory. From what they could tell, the communication module had two streams: one to send input to central command and another that received commands from there. If Adin sent commands to the device, Sara should be able to receive them, and hopefully relay them to the Doolittle, using the portal to bridge the space gap. On the downside, it was possible that Adin would be able to sense the connection and disable it.

So things could go really well or really badly.

Or both.

“You’d better get back through the portal, doc.” Sara looked up at him.

“Of course.” He hesitated. “Shouldn’t I stay to make sure it works properly?”

“We’ll be fine,” Fyn said.

He nodded and left with the two jarheads who’d shadowed Sara around the outpost. It was a relief to be alone with Fyn, if only for a moment.

“I don’t like leaving you here.”

She didn’t like it either, but she had to be alone.

Adin and his people shot first and didn’t ever think. Probably never occur to him that Fyn might be a pressure point for Sara. Sex seemed to be his only subtle card and it wasn’t that subtle. Was that also a hang over from her father? His way of hitting out at Miri for eluding him? Both sides seemed to be heavily laden with Freudian complexes. Really weird, intergalactic, Freudian complexes. It would have been funny if it weren’t such a freaking mess.

The Old Man had given them a couple of the cloaked fighters and a squad of Marines. That’s all he could spare. The outpost had a few defenses, but probably not enough to hold off a sustained attack from a battle cruiser. Its main defense seemed to be its ability to cloak, to hide. Unfortunately hiding wasn’t an option this time around. This battle would be one of wits, not might. If she could make the connection.

And if he came.

Miri’s hologram had been right about her conscious mind blocking stuff. Since she’d quit doing it, her ability to access and control the Garradian systems had tripled—though understanding it all was still problematic.

She looked at Fyn. He looked pretty good in ABU’s, even with dreads. She hoped the Old Man didn’t make him cut his hair. Maybe she could convince him that like Samson, Fyn would lose his strength if he had to cut it. He captured her hands and lifted one, then the other to his mouth.

“I don’t want you to do this.”

“I know.” She didn’t want to do it either. What she wanted was to take her husband and go back to earth, and to build a home together—for them and their baby.

The nanites kept her remarkably well informed about what was going on inside her body—sometimes too well informed. It wasn’t something she needed to know right now.

“I love you…sir.” She tried a smile. It was a bit shaky on the edges.

He touched her face, his eyes telling her what he couldn’t say. Then he stepped back and left her.

She covered her stomach with her hand for a long moment. If she’d known, would it have changed anything? If the colonel or Fyn had known, she wouldn’t be here.

Whatever they would have done, didn’t matter right now. She was here. It was time to pull Adin’s chain.

She closed her eyes and reached out to the first transmitter…

Adin Xever surveyed the preparations for battle with his mind, as he sat comfortably in his quarters—what Sara would have called the Supreme Leader suite. It was much more supreme than the room on the outpost. He still looked at the huge bed and pictured Sara there, her eyes, her mouth, her body welcoming him home. Was it just because she’d eluded him that he couldn’t get her out of his head? Or was it something more? There was something about her, about her people that he found uncomfortably compelling. This freedom she talked about, it was a dangerous notion, one that would put his people at risk. But it did make them interesting.

They seemed larger than the other people they had conquered. Colored in rich textures, too emotional, too happy to be dangerous warriors, but they were clearly dangerous to how things had been, how they always would be. They reminded him of a breeze. At first it seemed refreshing, but when it begin to sweep all before it, began to change things, it had to be stopped. He did not ask himself how a wind could be stopped. He just knew he had to do it, before the contagion of their ideas reached his people. If these ideas were to reach the network, it would be catastrophic. He had already eliminated the two men who had gone to the earth ship with them. He had felt their interest in the earth people. He even understood it. But it could not be allowed to spread.

All was going well. On the morrow, the armada would move out and it would remove all trace of Sara’s people from this galaxy. The contagion would be contained, their ships captured for study, the people exorcised. They did not belong in this galaxy and he would eject them the way his men had been ejected from the outposts. It was foolish of them to destroy the outposts. Perhaps, like Sara, they turned on something they couldn’t control. It belonged, by right, to his people. Perhaps that is why they could not control it. He had held back for too long and he did not know why he had waited to take back what belonged to them.

He had the men, he had the ships and he had the will. And he wanted Sara’s people gone. He wanted nothing left to remind him of her. When they were gone, then he would be able to get her out of his head. He would be able to take another companion, be able to take many of them. He would be able to sleep with his bond mate again. He would be able to see his life through his own eyes, instead of hers. He could stop looking at his people’s ways and wondering, if things had been different, if he had been different, there would have been a different ending for him and for Sara.

He could stop wondering if any woman had ever looked at him the way Sara looked at that Ionian.

He could stop longing for the warmth and lightness of heart he sensed when he was around her. It would weaken him, if he were not careful. This fun they talked and sang about, it was a lure and a trap. Life was cold, it was hard and only the strong survived. He would forget her, if he had to set this whole galaxy on fire to do it.

“My Leader?”

It was his aide, Kamelan, on his internal communicator.

“Yes?”

“You need to access the communication network grid, my Leader. We are receiving an unusual transmission.”

The distraction was a relief. He needed to stop thinking about Sara. He tapped into the feed, taking his time to work carefully through the many threads. He controlled all of them. Most of the time it was easy to manage the flow of information. During battle it was more challenging. He could only give his commanders limited control. There was always the risk of one of them doing what he had done. He had not become Supreme Leader by right, but by force. It was their way. Since the beginning of known time, the Dusan and Gadi had gone to battle against each other. Usually the Dusan won, because they could throw more men and ships into the fight. But no matter who won the battle, there were certain protocols each brought to the battle. He always knew what to expect from them. Just as they knew what to expect from the Dusan.

These earth people had changed that.

They followed none of the established protocols of battle. The loss of a ship had been annoying and it had forced him into the deception. He had not enjoyed pretending to be Gadi, but had needed to study them, learn how to fight them. That had not gone so well either, but he did know he would have to monitor the battle closely. If he could not anticipate their moves, he could respond to them. And he would bury them in men and ships. They would be sorry they had tried to take him on.

He found the right feed, studying it for a long moment, trying to determine what is was he was seeing. It almost looked like one of the outposts—no, not one of them, the one where Sara died.

That was not possible. He had seen it destroyed with his own eyes had he not? He considered it and realized what he had seen was a flash of light, a flash like the one that had stopped their attack on the earth ship when he tried to take Sara the first time.

“Is there anyone there—” Before he could finish the question, a figure moved into view.

Sara.

Her face filled his mind, just as she had filled his night visions since he watched her die. It was not possible. It had to be some kind of trick. A deception. He had held her in his arms and felt her last breath leave her body. He had seen life fade from her eyes. She lifted her cap, ruffled her hair, then put it back on again. She was dressed for battle in the same clothes he had seen her wear last time. They fit her loosely, but she could have worn anything and he would still want her.

He might even need her.

It was an astounding thought.

His insides, his thoughts twisted.

What did this mean? Was it possible she was not dead? Was it possible the destruction of the outpost was a deception? If she could do these things, then she was more powerful than he had thought possible.

She pulled a stool into place in front of a console and sat down, her elbows propped on her knees, her head tilted to one side. Her fingers pressing on the screen in front of her. She tapped something on her ear. “Home Plate, this is kilo1. Phase one is successful. Repeat, we have a go.”

She was testing something, perhaps a Garradian weapon. If they succeeding in mastering the technology the Garradians left behind, would numbers be enough to defeat them? What was she doing at that outpost? Why would she be there and not with her people’s ships? Unless—was this outpost somehow more important than the others in the chain? He would have to assume they were all intact. That their “destruction” had also been a trick.

Sara had done all this. She had unlocked the wonders and evicted his people from the outposts they held.

“There’s some pretty cool shit here. I can see why the Dusan and the Gadi wanted it.” She smiled and nodded, as if she heard someone else speaking. “It’s crazy, but if the Dusan hadn’t shot me down in the first attack, we’d never have known about any of it. Now that’s ironic.”

What was it Sara had said about red hair and a nasty temper? He did not have red hair, but she was about to learn what a supreme temper was like.

“Prepare my ship.” Adin’s voice cold and hard.

“My Leader—”

“Launch the attack on the earth ships now. And Kamelan?”

“Yes, my leader?”

“We take no prisoners, but I want their ships taken intact.”

Kamelan frowned. “Not even the women?”

His commanders would be disappointed. It had been a few years since there had been a fresh influx of women into the companion pool.

“They are a contagion that must be eliminated. None of them can survive.” He applied a bit of pain with the order and felt Kamelan flinch.

“As you command, my Leader.”

Adin hesitated, perhaps it would be wise to give a bit of hope with the lash of pain. “When we begin to retake Gadi planets, there will be many women.”

“Yes, my leader.”

In his mind, Sara smiled, the curve of her mouth making his hands curl into fists. She turned toward someone perhaps the soldier she must have captured, the one sending information into the network.

“So, do you have a name?”

She was smiling at him. Rage traveled along the connection—and it went dead.

No matter. He would have the real thing soon. This time there would be no persuasion, no waiting. There would only be taking until he no longer wanted her.

Sara barely had time to break her connection before the transmitter went down.

“Okay, that’s pretty cold.” Sara tapped into the monitoring system and studied the readings. Dang, if that had been in someone’s head, they’d be dead. At least she knew she’d hit a nerve—hopefully hard enough to bring the Supreme leader hot-footing it their way, diverting some ships from the main battle while he was at it.

The other thing she’d learned from the brief connection, she couldn’t kill Adin as soon as he got here, she had to do more than take down his link to the network to have any impact on the battle. Like them, the Dusan didn’t put all their eggs in one basket. There definitely was a command structure. Adin was at the top, but there was a small group of minds that could step in. Best case scenario, they got into a pissing match, giving them time to win the battle. Worst case, next in line already knew who he was and could take over immediately. Best outcome would be for her to take down the entire network, using a power surge like Adin had used to take out the transmitter. All she had to do was feel her way through a million plus connections, tap into the one Adin was using and…neutralize it, before Adin figured out she was there. And before he, well, better not to think about that.

She tapped her radio. “Fyn?”

He didn’t respond. She frowned. He should have reached the cloaked ship by now. Sara started to contact Henderson but something, a tingle of her spider sense maybe stopped her.

“Fyn, please respond.”

The room went dark.

She cursed as she tried to tap into the outpost. Nothing. With the power down, she couldn’t access the outpost’s resources either. Panic tried to fill in the gap left by the loss of the data stream. It was like losing a limb—a limb she needed to find Fyn.

“Fyn, please report your location.” It surprised her how calm her voice sounded.

“Hello, Sara.” It was Helfron, the Gadi leader. “I’m afraid Fyn is indisposed.”

Sara didn’t feel her knees buckle.

She did feel them hit the floor.

Helfron, no Kalian.

Kalian had Fyn.

Kalian who wanted him dead.

Who may have already killed him.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to breathe, trying to think. Vaguely she knew Helfron was still talking, but she couldn’t hear. Or see. Or talk. She’d known Fyn could die. She’d faced it last night, as she lay in his arms, holding him while he held her. But not like this. She felt something wet ooze through her fingers. Blood. She recognized the smell. Her palms stung where her nails had dug in.

It wasn’t enough.

She bent over until her forehead touched the cold floor. Her hands spread out, welcoming the cold into her body as the nanites healed those wounds, that pain. Ice flowed through her body.

“Sara?”

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

Life’s not fair. Evie spoke in her head.

Does it have to be this unfair? She didn’t want to, but she made herself sit up. Her body felt stiff and old. A hundred years old. She wiped her face. There was one thing she could do for Fyn now.

She keyed her radio. “I’m going to kill you.”

Her voice sounded dead. Dead as Fyn.

Fyn is dead.

She repeated it out loud.

“Fyn isn’t dead. He’s just stunned.” He didn’t sound worried. He sounded patronizing. Patient. In control.

That was going to change.

“Yankee Foxtrot Oscar.” Sara gave the code to switch channels on the radio and made the change herself.

“Henderson?”

“Charlie foxtrot. What do you want us to do?”

“We got to get the power back on or this op is a bust.” Fyn would have died for nothing. “Can you see their position on your sensors? I’m dead in the water.”

Sara had gotten so used to being tapped in to the outpost, she felt lost with out the connection. Made her situational awareness crap, too. It was a pointed reminder how easy, and dangerous, it was to rely on tech instead of good, old-fashioned soldiering.

“I’ve got ‘em.”

Sara mentally tapped into the fighter’s computer, even as Henderson briefed her. No surprise they were in power control. She counted twenty bogeys, probably all Ojemba. He’d want his best men with him.

“They’ve got the stairs covered,” Henderson said, “but I see some shafts. Probably transport shafts on either side of their position.”

“If they’re like the Dusan, they’re not trained for urban fighting.” Sara hesitated. “How many guys do you think?”

“Three should do it, if you’re going, too.”

“Oh, I’m going.”

He told her where to meet up with Perkins and what to do.

“Roger that.” She hesitated. “The Old Man is counting on us. If I don’t make it out, you have to take out Xever. Destroy the outpost if you have to.”

“What if Fyn is still alive?”

“He’s not.”

If he wasn’t dead, Kalian would kill him as soon as he got what he wanted. He couldn’t afford not to. He had to be the one person who knew how dangerous Fyn really was.

“I’m sure he suspects you’re there. He might be counting on you for his ride off this rock.”

If one of the cloaked fighters was missing, the Old Man would have known about it. They weren’t invisible to each other. And tracking would have picked up any other ship in the area. He’d had them drop him off and leave.

“Don’t give it to him.”

“Roger that.” A pause. “Good luck, Tall Girl.”

“Same to you.”

When Halliwell was tasked to command the Doolittle, they told him that it would be more like commanding a naval ship, than an Air Force vessel. He was glad now for the time he’d spent studying naval tactics. In addition to the two earth ships and the four Garradian ships brought up from the island outpost, the Gadi had kicked in eight of their battle cruisers, not the ten he’d been hoping for.

His consultations with Commander Gaedon and Emerson had been interesting. It took a while to get Gaedon to quit talking about protocols and understand there was nothing polite or neat about war. The tactics Gaedon proposed reminded him of a dance the waltz maybe. Stately moves and counter moves. Everyone doing what they were supposed to do.

“This is a fight for our survival,” Emerson finally told him. “We kill them or they kill us. We can’t afford to play fair, sir.”

“Has Xever ever sent so many ships into battle, Commander?” Halliwell asked him.

“No.”

“Then he’s thrown your protocols out the window. Now it’s your turn.”

Gaedon had sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

So Halliwell told him.

Sara pulled out her flashlight, propped it so it would shine on her equipment. Night vision goggles. Knives. Grenades and flash bangs. Magazines for P-90, M-4 carbine, and nine mil. She emptied her vest of everything that couldn’t kill, maim or disintegrate the human body. It surprised her how cool her thoughts were, and how cold her rage. She took off her cap and put on the goggles, but didn’t pull them down yet. She switched her radio back to the frequency Helfron was using.

“Sara, talk to me.”

“Got nothing more to say.”

This was her fault. Sara had wondered where Helfron was. She’d felt uneasy about it, but she hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t taken precautions. Hadn’t tried to find out. He must have had Ojemba watching the outposts and noticed the activity. He’d come. And now he’d killed Fyn.

“Don’t be hasty.”

She stowed her flashlight, hung the M-4 off her shoulder, and picked up the P-90, flicking on the light.

“I’m long past hasty.”

“Fyn walks out of here alive, if you promise to come with me, promise not to leave.”

“I know who you really are. I know you can’t let him live.”

“I give you my word—”

“Your word means nothing to me.” Sara fought back the flash of hot anger. She had to stay cold. “If you’ve got some gods somewhere to pray to, now would be a good time to start, because I’m coming for you.”

The sound of her voice sent a chill down her back. Dang, she sounded scary.