Star Crossed

by C. Gockel

  He flung it open with his mind. As he came in, he saw Xever kneeling over Sara, his hands around her neck. Xever’s eyes widened in shock.

  Fyn fired once, then again. The force of it flung Xever off Sara and against the wall. He slumped to the floor.

  Fyn closed the gap. The bastard had chained her again. Her neck was livid where his hands had squeezed. For long, agonizing minutes, he couldn’t find a pulse. He bent over her, giving her the CPR he’d learned from Carey. Forcing his air into her lungs. Forcing her heart to keep pumping.

  Finally, when he didn’t know if he could keep going, her chest heaved and she took a breath on her own. Then another.

  He collapsed beside her, his hand stroking the hair off her face. He murmured her name over and over.

  The gunfire stopped. Silence spread throughout the ship. Two Dusan ships collided and exploded from an easily avoidable collision. The rest just…froze, hanging in space like cardboard cutouts.

  “What just happened?” Halliwell looked around the bridge for answers his people didn’t have either.

  “I don’t know, sir.” Finally someone spoke.

  “They just stopped firing.” This from someone else.

  The silence was as intense as the noise had been. People began to emerge cautiously from behind their makeshift barricades.

  “The Dusan out in the halls are dead, sir.”

  Halliwell pulled up the virtual HUD. It was almost the only thing left that still worked. According to this, the ships hadn’t powered down. He frowned. Could this be right? Could so many of the Dusan just be dead?

  He got up.

  “Cancel the self destruct.” He keyed into the radio. “Colonel Carey, let’s get some people aboard one of the Dusan ships. See if we can figure out what happened.”

  She’d done it. It was the only explanation. She’d taken out their network.

  Bravo Zulu, Tall Girl.

  Sara heard her name and someone touched her face. Someone? She stiffened. Was it Adin? Her eyes closed, her fingers explored a face. Fyn.

  “Am I dead, too?” She found his dreads, his checks, his mouth.

  The mouth curved against her fingers.

  “You’re not dead.”

  He kissed her forehead. Her mouth. Her eyes. Her cheeks.

  It was nice, but…

  “Then it’s just a dream.”

  “Not a dream.”

  “I shot you.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You did what you had to do.”

  “I want to be with you.” She’d earned the right. She’d done her duty. It hadn’t been neat or pretty, but she’d taken out the network.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  “No.”

  If this was a dream, she’d stay in it. She’d live in it forever.

  He kissed her again, taking his time. “Does this feel like a dream?”

  “A most excellent dream.” She smiled. He did feel awfully real, but she had shot him. That was real, too. She had witnesses.

  “You healed me, Sara, with those nanites things. When you touched me.” He grabbed her hand and held it against his mouth. “Feel me. I’m real. We’re here. Together. Alive. Look at me.”

  He watched her lids lift. She stared at him for a long moment, then her face crumpled. She buried her face against his chest, her body shuddering violently.

  “I thought soldiers don’t cry?”

  Her voice was muffled against his chest. “I’m not crying, though if I were, I have good reason to. But I’m not.”

  Her fingers dug into him, as if she were afraid he’d be gone again if she didn’t hold on. He didn’t mind.

  “Did you do it? Is the fleet all right?” He was almost afraid to ask.

  Her body stilled. She nodded. “It wasn’t neat. I think a lot of them are dead. I didn’t have time to be surgical.”

  Fyn tightened his grip. He’d seen why. The memory of Xever crouched over her, squeezing her neck was going to haunt him for a long time.

  “If you hadn’t killed him, I would have failed. His control was impressive. He could have stopped me. You distracted him at just the right moment.”

  Now she eased back to look at Fyn. The tears she wasn’t crying had left tracks down her face. He rubbed them away with his thumbs.

  “We got incoming,” he told her. “We should find you something to wear.”

  Sara looked down. She frowned. Looked up. “How do you know we have incoming?”

  “Your nanites didn’t just heal me and leave. You’re right. It is weird, but in a good way.” He felt her connect to him, mind and body. “A very good way—” His eyes widened. “A baby?”

  Sara looked a bit nervous. “I guess I’m more like my mom than I realized.”

  He covered her stomach with his hand. Their baby. Their daughter.

  “She’s going to look like you.”

  “Do you mind? That’s she’s a she?”

  He grinned at her. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Sara returned to a Doolittle very different from the one she’d left barely twenty-four hours earlier. As her transport craft approached, she could see the damage with her eyes, even as her mind went through damage reports. Mother would have been gone if Sara hadn’t taken down the network when she did. She’d been bare seconds from self-destructing.

  Even harder to take were the lists of missing, dead and injured.

  Captain John Hawkins was on that list. Now she wished she’d taken time to have go juice with him once more. She’d miss him, miss his cheeky smile.

  Commander Gaedon was on that list, too. His ship had been the last destroyed. She wished she’d been…nicer to him. Told him good-bye.

  And Foster. He’d died in the first Dusan assault on the fighter bay. He hadn’t gone down easy and he’d taken a lot of them with him when he went. Half the band was gone. All had died valiantly defending the ship.

  Briggs was on the injured list. According to his medical file, he was in a coma. He’d been injured fighting in the bridge access corridor, exposing himself repeatedly to enemy fire in defense of the ship and his fellow officers.

  Before reporting to Halliwell, Sara and Fyn went to the infirmary to see him. She didn’t think the Old Man would mind. He was the closest thing she had to a father.

  Sara pulled up a stool, took his hand in hers and carefully, cautiously sent some nanites in to repair the damage. She didn’t dare fix him all at once, but they would turn the tide. He’d get better now.

  As she left, she made sure she brushed past the seriously wounded, giving them an edge, too. Didn’t seem right to play favorites.

  “You did something, didn’t you?” Fyn looked at her as they waited for a ladder to clear. None of the lifts were working yet.

  Sara felt her mind connect with the ship, trying to repair the stuff it could. It wasn’t much. Mom needed more than computers repaired. But it was something.

  “Just a little repair work.” In each crisis, Sara learned more about what she could do, about what the nanites could do. Her control was better, too. The nanites she’d used to heal those in the infirmary would shut down once they’d done their job. The recipients would never know they’d been there.

  They basically followed the Dusan’s line of attack all the up to the bridge. When they were finally able to work their way up, Sara found Halliwell kicking ass with his arm in a sling. He also had a patch on one side of his head and streaks of iodine on various cuts on his face and hands. Probably more she couldn’t see.

  She came to attention and waited for him to see them. The damage to the bridge was extensive. Sara was amazed anyone had survived. Their inter-galactic hyper drive was intact, though. The Dusan had wanted that.

  Someone said something to the Old Man and he looked her way. An almost smile softened his grim expression. He strode toward them.

  “Let’s take this into my wardroom.” He didn’t speak unti
l they were alone, then he seemed unsure what to say. “You haven’t filed a report yet, Captain.”

  “No, sir.” Sara wasn’t sure what to say in it. If she left out the FM parts, there wasn’t much left to write about.

  He shifted his injured arm, grimacing.

  “Do you want me to fix that for you, sir?”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You can do that?”

  “Apparently.” Her gaze flicked toward Fyn. “I can program the nanites so they don’t stay.”

  He hesitated, then held out his arm.

  “Do you want it fast or slow?”

  “I should probably go slow, but I’m not a patient man.”

  Sara smiled, stepped up and put her hand on his. Her hand glowed, then his caught the glow. It spread up his arm, then flowed into his face, erasing his injuries.

  He flexed his hand, tentatively at first, then with more vigor.

  “Damn.” He looked at her. “Thank you.” He hesitated. “Did you hear about Briggs—”

  “He’s going to be fine. Take a little longer, but he’ll be fine.” Sara met his gaze calmly. “Everyone in the infirmary will be…fine.”

  “Good.” He blinked a bit, then turned and took his seat. “Perhaps your report had better stay verbal.” He nodded to chairs.

  Sara sat down, looked at Fyn, then began talking.

  Despite her report being verbal, the story of her shooting Fyn spread through the survivors. Possibly because of Perkins. He was the only survivor of the jarhead detail, since he’d been flying the cloaked ship and escaped the explosion on the Dusan vessel. Fyn was supposed to have been with them, not down on the outpost. One good thing had come from Helfron’s interference.

  Helfron and his Ojemba had survived, though it had been a near thing. Like Henderson, they’d got trapped on the bridge, but had managed to hold out until Sara took down the network. They’d all taken a beating, but they’d also won a great victory. The Padre had reminded them of this during the memorial service for the fallen. Sara had sung “Amazing Grace” with tears trickling down her face.

  Her first meeting with Carey and Briggs, who was still stuck in bed and hating it, was pretty embarrassing. They looked at her. Then they looked at Fyn. Then they looked at her again. Finally Carey said what they were thinking.

  “You actually shot him?”

  Sara blushed. “Yes, sir.”

  “Damn.” That was Briggs.

  “Through the heart. You shot him through the heart?”

  “No. My aim was a little off or he wouldn’t be here, would he?” Though not as off as they thought. Which was probably why he was still around to be healed. Only the old man knew how close to death Fyn had come.

  “Damn.” That was Briggs again.

  “I’m surprised the Gadi leader is still alive,” Carey said.

  Sara was, too.

  “At least he’s gone off the idea of marrying you,” Carey added. “You finally convinced him you wouldn’t be a…safe addition to his harem. Think he’s afraid you’d incite a rebellion.”

  Sara grinned. “He’s right about that.”

  “Damn.” Briggs again. He looked at Fyn and it seemed he tried to find something else to say, but in the end he was back at, “Damn.”

  Sara sighed. “None of you are ever going to let me forget I shot him, are you?”

  They all looked at Fyn. He shrugged and then he grinned.

  “I can live with it.”

  Live with it being the operative word, Sara thought. They were both going to live. Actually, all three of them were going to live. Baby Miri was doing great. They were going to name the next girl after Evie.

  “We’ve been ordered to limp our way back to Earth,” Carey said, “for refit and resupply. The Boyington is going to relieve us and monitor the region while the Gadi and the Dusan sort things out. By the time we get back to earth, we should have some sort of official status for you, Fyn.”

  Fyn nodded his thanks.

  “There’s going to be one last official reception before we go,” Carey added. “Old man says neither of you have to go, but he thinks it would be…nice.”

  Sara looked at Fyn. “We’d be happy to attend, sir.”

  Maybe she’d wear her dress. Wasn’t going to fit her in a few months.

  “Damn.”

  Maybe by the time they got to Earth, Briggs would be able to speak in sentences again.

  The reception was aboard the Boyington. Sara wasn’t sure if it was Halliwell doing a hand-off to Colonel Shepard, or if he still didn’t trust Helfron on his ship.

  Sara found herself looking around for Gaedon—even though she knew she wouldn’t see him. According to the Old Man, his replacement was a former Ojemba.

  They were coming out of the dark.

  Things weren’t great, but at least they had a chance to get better.

  To her surprise, Helfron actually came up to them. At least he wasn’t wearing pink and lace. Now he looked like a real leader of his people.

  No one shook hands. Too much had happened for that. She felt Fyn shift restlessly when the leader took a little too long examining her dress.

  “You look lovely, Captain,” he finally said.

  It was probably a good thing she’d been trashy nice, instead of nice-nice for their meeting, she decided—though she still didn’t get it. The face that looked at her out of the mirror was a lot happier and a lot less closed, but it was still thin and pale.

  “Thank you, sir.” Sara stepped closer to Fyn and his arm slid around her waist.

  “I understand you are both leaving with the Doolittle?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wish…you wouldn’t. There is much good that Miri’s heir could do here.”

  “Don’t you think it’s time your people stopped looking back and started looking forward?” She hesitated. “Besides, if I stayed, there’d have to be a butt load of changes for women.”

  “The air force?”

  Sara grinned. “He told you?”

  “I insisted.”

  Someone pulled Fyn to the side, leaving them alone in the crowd.

  Her smile faded. “I miss him.”

  “He liked you very much.” He hesitated. “If you hadn’t met Fyn first, would things have been different between us?”

  Sara stared at him. She didn’t know how to answer him. “I can’t see myself in your little band of bond mates. I’ve always had trouble with crowds.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever return? This is your home, too, is it not?”

  Sara covered her stomach with her hand. Was it? It didn’t feel like home. These weren’t her mother’s people, at least, not the people she’d left. Maybe someday they’d find their way back to what they’d been. Or forward to something better.

  She saw Helfron’s eyes widen.

  “You are having a child.”

  “We’re having a child, yes. A girl.” She smiled.

  His eyes lit with something. “Perhaps some day we can arrange a match between her and one of my son’s.”

  “I suspect she’ll be like her mother and choose her own path and her own guy. In fact, I know she will. Because that’s how she’ll be raised.”

  He smiled then. “I hope to someday meet her.”

  He held out his hand. After a brief hesitation, Sara let him take hers. Because Fyn wasn’t dead. He raised it to his lips, then let her go.

  “I don’t think it is over between us, key keeper. We will meet again.”

  Sara looked at him, her eyes narrowing. “Well, make sure it’s like this. Don’t make me shoot you. Cause you know I will.”

  A smile flickered on his mouth. He nodded, then turned and left her.

  She felt Fyn’s hands settle on her bare shoulders. She leaned back against him.

  Maybe they’d be back. It wasn’t her call to make. There were other galaxies out there to explore. She put her hand on her stomach again. It was hard to believe anything could compete with what she’d found in this g
alaxy.

  Epilogue

  Sara stopped the car in front of the house and turned off the engine, her expression the closed one Fyn thought she’d left in the past. She stared at the house, a small, white framed building sitting in a row of similar houses. For three years, Sara had called this place home, but now she seemed reluctant to get out of the car.

  They’d been on her planet for three weeks. Sara’s world would probably have been more unsettling but the nanites that had saved his life were now helping him bridge the gap between her culture and his. Thanks to them, he could read and he could recognize things he’d never seen before. It was strange, but in a good way. At least he could go around with her and not be so ET—especially now that he’d seen the movie. Helped him understand why Sara had been surprised when ET looked like her people, he thought with a grin.

  There was still no outward sign of the baby. She was just coming up on the end of her first trimester. But his nanites—Sara called them the nannies—kept him almost as well informed of the baby’s progress as they did Sara.

  It was a strange way to live, but not a bad one. Sara had told him, she could remove them from his system, but he found he didn’t mind them. It strengthened the bond between them. And it increased his situational awareness of where she was. He needed that, particularly in this crazy, fast-moving world of hers. He wasn’t entirely convinced someone wouldn’t come after her sometime.

  Though this corner of it was slower paced than some of the places they’d seen driving cross-country to the wedding. This Louisiana place was hot and humid, which forced the slower pace, he decided. The food was great, too, his favorite so far. Not that he didn’t like the drive-up food. How could you not like bags of food handed to you in exchange for money?

  When she didn’t move to get out, he took her hand. “You okay?”

  “They say you can’t go home again, but here I am. Only this isn’t really home.”

  “Do you wish you hadn’t come?”