by C. Gockel
“Have a seat, sir.”
“Right.” He perched uneasily on the stool and opened a folder. “You’ll need to go over this, too, Fyn. I understand you’ll be there as well.”
“Okay.” Did Kilburn know he couldn’t read their language yet? Not that he gave a crap for protocol.
“Here’s one for you and one for…the Captain. As you can see, the Gadi have some rather strict protocols when dealing with their leader.”
“No kidding.” Sara looked up. “No speaking until spoken to. Looks like he never got over kindergarten.”
“Okay, remarks like that would be very bad during dinner. Probably be better if you didn’t talk at all. Unless he asks you a question. You’d have to answer it…I suppose.” He sighed. “And the Colonel wants everyone in dress uniforms. Except Fyn. You can wear—”
“Oh, wear the leather.” Sara gave a little wiggle. “It’s hot. I’ll need something nice to look at while I’m not talking to Helfron.”
Kilburn choked. “You’re going to be difficult, aren’t you?”
Sara looked at him. “Yes.”
“I told the Colonel that. He didn’t seem to mind.” He looked puzzled by that.
“Kilburn, do you know why the Gadi leader wants to meet me?”
He looked up, looked away, and nodded. It was clear he thought it was mind-boggling, quite possibly insane. For once he was right.
“Now think for a minute. Me—difficult at dinner. Me—first lady of half of a galaxy. Now which would be the worse diplomatic nightmare for you?”
He looked at her and his eyes slowly widened. “Oh, so you being…”
“…bad, is actually a good thing.”
“Oh. That’s very…”
“Twisted. I know. The colonel already told me I have a dark little soul.” She sat up. “So it is really wasting your very precious time to talk protocol with me, because I have a mandate to screw up. So you could leave. Go talk to one of those other twenty people?”
“Oh.” He looked at her. He looked at Fyn. “Oh.”
He flushed again.
“I’m sure you have things to do.” He flushed an even deeper red.
“Yeah, I was hoping to jump his bones once more before the big event—just in case the leader was wanting a virgin bride.”
Even Fyn choked at this.
“Want to make sure I cover all the bases—no pun intended either.”
How did she manage to look so serious and not blush this time? When she was actually jumping his bones, she’d been glowing like a night fish.
“And Fyn doesn’t mind if I talk. At least not yet.”
Fyn put his hand over her mouth. “Save yourself.”
Kilburn smiled. It made him human.
“I’ll see you later then.” He half turned, seemed about to say something else, but then thought better of it and let himself out.
“Lock that door,” Fyn said, staring at Sara over the top of his hand. He heard it snap in place. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
She pulled his hand down and looked at the clock.
“You got ten minutes. Are you sure you’re…up for it?”
He hooked his arm around he waist and put her back on the bed.
She smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
It had been a scramble to make it to the fighter bay on time. Sara had wanted to curl up with Fyn and sleep, not climb back into ABU’s. Just thinking about him made her skin flush and her mid-section get mushy again. Probably shouldn’t do that. Made it hard to stay at attention. The colonel had set the fighter bay up like it was a set in a play. Sara took a peek at the total layout through the security cameras. It was weird to see herself standing with the other pilots in her squadron. All of them were in ABU’s, tee shirts, vests, and Kevlar helmets, and all were fully geared up with side arms, knives and P-90’s hanging off clips on the front of their vests.
Across from them were the jarheads, similarly geared up, except they carried M-4’s. On one end of their group was a guy with an M203 Grenade Launcher. At the other end a jarhead had a M249 SAW light machine gun—like big, scary quote marks. And then to their right, the guys from the Patton.
Colonel Emerson stood with their Old Man. Sara could see Hawkins in their pilot ranks.
There was also a large, security detail of fully armed MP’s.
The Old Man had decided to have the Gadi delegation arrive through the fighter bay, let them see their fighters, too. Briggs had had his guys spiff them to a deadly glow and he was on hand to see the parade. Fyn stood just off to the right of the pilot pukes, dressed in ABU’s and geared up, like them, except the Old Man had him holding an AT-4 anti tank rocket launcher. Sometimes bigger was better. He looked seriously hot.
The only odd note was Kilburn in his suit.
When the Gadi transport ship entered the bay, Sara felt, more than heard a murmur of laughter pass through the ranks.
It was very pretty, even prettier than the girl bird he’d wanted to give her.
“I think I saw that ship on Killer Clowns from Outer Space,” someone muttered.
“Or in Mario Brothers,” Carey said, his eyes wide.
A ramp lowered and a bunch of Gadi guys marched out, strutting their stuff. They looked pretty, too. They couldn’t have been more opposite to the Dusan. If they had any reaction to the earth pukes, it didn’t show on their faces. There was a pause and then Commander Gaedon came down, stopping at the foot of the ramp and turning to wait.
Finally, after another long pause, their leader strolled out. He was as pretty as his ship, and fully loaded with glitter and gold. His getup didn’t have the look of a uniform. It kind of reminded her of the stuff royalty wore in France. In the fourteenth century. Only his shoes weren’t pointy toed. His pants stopped at the knee. And were ruffled on the edges. Actually, it looked like someone had puked ruffles all over him. All he needed to be the gay blade was a pretty hankie. He had the bored, snotty look down pat.
He was so shiny, Sara was tempted to pull out her shades. Her hand started to reach for the flap—
“Don’t even think about it, Captain,” Carey muttered, though his lips twitched. “Or anyone else. We play this straight—well, as straight as we can. Are you sure he wants to marry you, Donovan?”
The leader stopped and looked around, his brows lifting in distaste as he took in the very gray, very serviceable fighter bay. Halliwell moved forward to greet the Gadi leader, then turned and introduced him to Emerson and Kilburn. Sara saw Gaedon looking around. His gaze passed right over her. Perfect. He said something to the Old Man, who turned and looked at her.
“Front and center, Donovan,” he barked.
Sara came to sharp attention, marched forward a few steps, stopped and saluted. She didn’t look at any of them, though she couldn’t resist tapping into the security monitors for a bird’s eye view. It was an odd tableau, the gaudy Gadi standing in the drab fighter bay, looking down his nose at her.
“That’s her? Are you sure it’s female?” He made no attempt to lower his voice. It wasn’t a bad voice. Would have been better without the sneer in it.
Sara had to stiffen her mouth to keep from grinning.
“Let me introduce you,” Gaedon said, smiling uneasily.
“She may approach.” Helfron kind of waved his hand in her direction.
Sara didn’t move.
“Captain.” Halliwell jerked his chin at her.
She marched up to the circle, stopping at attention. She added her “steely eyed killer” look to her ensemble, in honor of the Gadi leader. It took him a while to notice. He started with her boots, almost flinching at the sight of them. Then his gaze tracked slowly up her legs—that took a while—and he took some more time studying her chest. Not that it did him any good. Her vest hid the little she had. Finally…
His eyes widened slightly when their gazes met, and just for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of…life in them, before his lids drooped over his eyes, as if he were bored. He
nodded to Gaedon.
“Leader, this is Captain Sara Donovan. Captain, I’m most pleased to introduce you to Helfron Giddioni, the Leader of the Gadi Federation.”
Sara gave a short, sharp nod of her head. She didn’t offer her hand.
He didn’t offer his. They were resting on his hips.
She decided it was time to give as good as she’d got. She looked him in the eyes, then slid her gaze slowly down his length. When she got to his jewel crusted shoes, she noticed the heels were quite high. Someone must have told him she was a tall girl. She tipped her head and studied them until Gaedon cleared his throat. She looked up. Helfron was looking at her, so she let her lips twitch, just a little. Again that flash of something in his eyes. He wasn’t as stupid as he wanted to look. There was strength in his body, too, despite the pretty wrapping. Pink was definitely his color, though.
“You said she was a soldier.” His gaze flicked over her again. “I thought you were joking.” He reached out and felt the collar of her jacket, his nose wrinkled, like he smelled something nasty. “What color is that?”
Sara just stared at him.
“They’re called ABU’s, an Airman Battle Uniform. They are designed to camouflage our people in dangerous situations,” Halliwell explained.
“She is a fighter pilot, Leader.” Gaedon indicated one of the ships off to the side. “One of these ships, I believe, Captain?”
Helfron turned and examined a Dauntless, then looked at Halliwell.
“Do they only come in the one color?”
Halliwell blinked a couple of times. Sara’s lips twitched, this time for real.
Helfron’s gaze suddenly veered her way again. She straightened her mouth to a line.
“Take off that thing on your head.”
Sara’s gaze narrowed.
“Captain?”
Sara looked at the Old Man.
“Yes, sir?”
“Take it off.”
She lifted the helmet off, tucking it under her arm and looked at Helfron again, the temp in her eyes dropping a few more degrees.
“Your hair is very short.”
She arched her brows.
He studied her for a moment. “You may speak to me.”
Sara hadn’t planned to say anything to him, but then Gaedon gave her a pleading look. The Old Man did, too.
“I usually wear it shorter.” She waited half a beat. “Sir.”
“I am addressed as Leader.”
Sara arched her brows a bit more. Added an eye roll.
“What is that?” He indicated her P-90.
Halliwell answered for her. “Show him your P-90, Captain.”
Without taking her gaze off Helfron, Sara unhooked it from the front of her vest, removed the magazine, stowed it in her vest pocket, snapped it to the side and then held it out.
The leader looked at it, while Gaedon hastened to explain, “It is projectile based, Leader.”
Helfron studied it without touching it, then nodded when he was finished.
Sara pulled out the magazine, shoved it back in, then returned the P-90 to its clip on the front of her vest.
“Our weapons do not have as much movement.”
“I noticed.” Sara gave Gaedon a look. “Sir.”
Gaedon smiled a bit weakly.
Helfron frowned. “What is this sir?”
“It’s a sign of respect, Leader,” Kilburn said, as if he couldn’t help himself.
Apparently he wanted to be dead to her again. She shot him a look.
Helfron nodded, looking not ill-pleased. “I am ready to see more of this vessel. She will walk with me.”
Sara put her helmet on again, taking an extra moment to adjust it—and to make sure Mr. Leader noticed. Then she looked at Halliwell as pointedly as she could. At some point the guy had to notice she only obeyed the Old Man’s orders.
“Fall in,” Halliwell snapped.
“Sir, yes sir!” Sara snapped off a salute, spun and marched back to her group. With another sharp turn, she took her place with her playmates.
Helfron looked at Halliwell, his lips actually set in a pout.
“The Captain has duties, Leader. Discipline must be maintained.”
“True.” His head tilted, as he studied her again. “At least she is obedient. It is a good quality in a mate.” He said it like it was the only good quality he’d seen so far.
Briggs kind of coughed. Carey might have choked. They weren’t the only ones. Sara couldn’t help it. She looked at Fyn and grinned. His brows were arched. Seriously arched. She stuck her tongue out at him. It drew the Leader’s attention to him.
Helfron walked up to Fyn.
“You are not one of them.”
Fyn shook his head, the movement sharp enough to make his dreads bounce against his back and shoulders.
“You are Ionian.”
This time just his lashes moved.
“Your people fought well. A pity.” The leader didn’t wait to see Fyn’s reaction. He turned and came up to Sara.
“You are almost pretty when you smile. You will smile when you are in my presence.”
Sara just looked at him, the sides of her mouth pulled down.
“Gaedon!”
Gaedon hurried to his side. “Yes, Leader?”
“These people received proper instruction, did they not?”
“Yes, Leader.”
“See that they all follow it.” He gave Sara a pointed look.
He turned and walked away from her, presumably to punish her. Sara stuck her tongue out at his back.
“Captain, please…”
Sara arched her brows. “Please what?”
“There are strict protocols.”
“I heard.”
“Gaedon! We are waiting.”
He gave her one, last pleading look, then hurried after his Leader. It was kind of sad, seeing him like that. A real come down from his pompous parade the first time they met. But not enough to make Sara change her mind.
Colonel Halliwell paused and said something to Carey, then left the bay. Carey looked at Sara. “Old Man wants you to pass on the throw down, Donovan.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re too pissed.”
Did she imagine a sigh of relief all around her? She looked around.
“Are you guys scared of me?”
“When you’re pissed, hell yeah.”
That from her own wingman?
“Really?” She stared at them for a long moment, then she grinned. “Cool.” Her gaze narrowed again. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better? Cause that would just make me more pissed.”
“Totally scared.”
Murmurs of agreement.
“That’s so sweet.” She looked at Carey. “But I need to do it, sir. I got a head of steam to burn off.”
Carey leaned close and lowered his voice. “I think I know a way you could do that without hurting anyone, Donovan.” He lowered his voice even more. “Think of it as a wedding present.”
Sara looked at him, color creeping into her cheeks.
“Go, while you can. I’ll send Fyn along after a discreet interval.”
Chapter Sixteen
While everyone, well, at least the colonel and the Old Man, thought they were having kinky alien sex, Sara and Fyn went up to the top of the ship and sat on the catwalk and held hands and talked. Fyn made holding hands almost as pleasant as alien sex, he was so thorough.
Had to love a guy who paid that much attention to detail.
They talked about when they were young, things they remembered, stuff they had in common, things they hated—nothing about the Leader or the Dusan. Sara wanted to avoid the subject, since he wasn’t going to be happy she’d volunteered to be bait for Adin.
“So what is it you’re trying not to tell me,” Fyn suddenly asked.
“What?”
“Your eyes give you away, too. What don’t you want to tell me?”
“Oh. That.” She looked do
wn. “Let’s not ruin this time. I don’t want to think about any of it.” She looked at him hopefully. It was the truth. Just not all of it.
“Sara.”
His head angled, so he could look at her through his dreads. His brow arched, but it was his expression that did it. It was the cut-the-crap one, but with a bit of husband thrown in. Wow.
It worked, too. She heard herself tell him.
Pissed was an understatement.
“No. Not going to happen.”
“Fyn, it’s a good plan and you know it.” He just stared at her. “Okay, if I’m out of it, so are you.”
He opened his mouth then shut it again. Opened it again.
“It’s different.”
“Cause you’re a guy?”
“I know you know how to fight, so fight. Just don’t do this.”
“If I don’t, then Adin won’t come. Even if we win, it will just be a patch job, a temporary measure. If we don’t stand against them here, against them right now it will just get worse.”
His expression didn’t change.
“Adin will lay waste to this galaxy and move on to mine, spreading his misery everywhere he can. And he might figure out how to get his hands on the Garradian stuff and be even more dangerous.”
“He doesn’t just want the stuff. He wants you.”
Sara didn’t flinch from his look. “I know.”
“You still have nightmares about what he did to you. What if—” He stopped. “He has more ships. More men. Even if the Gadi join us, it won’t be enough. And they probably won’t. They don’t have the will to fight anymore. All they’ve ever done is survive.”
“I know.” She hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about it, but she knew the odds were against them. The thought of seeing Adin again made her feel sick to her stomach but part of her wanted it. Part of her wanted to face him and beat him.
“Early in our country’s history, we were out manned and so out gunned. We’d been at war for a while and it wasn’t going well. It was winter. Our men were freezing and starving, dying of disease. Some wanted to give up. A man, a Patriot, named Thomas Paine wrote, these are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. We won that war, we won our freedom. And that was just the first time we won when everyone thought we couldn’t.”
