He removed the panel and studied the mess of wires and components, not easy to sort out with a big, black hole in the middle of it all. Some of the parts weren’t that different from the ones in his ill-fated ship. Some of it he’d like to study some more. He couldn’t see where the propulsion power came from, but he began to see a pattern in the tangle of wires.
“Hang on, I think see the power conduit…” He pulled his knife, cut off some wire from one place and used it to make a bridge between two severed wires. “Try that.”
She peered over the side with a wide smile. “Thanks. You know your way around an engine. Briggs is going to love you.” She disappeared from sight again, then reappeared. “He’s the guy who keeps us flying.” She vanished again. “I’ve got some tracking capability—crap, we got a bogey incoming.”
He climbed up on the wing, and saw a screen with a dot flashing on it as it moved closer to the center of the screen.
“What’s that?”
“Could be SAR—search and rescue. Or a bandit—that’s a bad guy. Normally I’d be able to tell if it had an IFF, but my sniffer was in the pointy end of my bird. No surprise it’s down.”
Fyn blinked, not even sure what to ask.
“IFF is a signal our ships send out that identify us to each other. Helps cut down on friendly fire accidents. A sniffer is the device that picks up the signal. All our crap has fancy names we can’t remember, so they get nicknames real fast. Or reduced to initials.”
She pushed something and a small tray popped out. She started pressing on the rows of buttons. “Okay, inputting the self destruct, but I’m going with a remote detonation. If it is Dusan, we can take a few of them out, too.”
She pulled a small device off the edge of the keyboard and then got up.
“We should get out of sight.”
She nodded, but before they could move, he heard a crackle, then a voice.
“Outfield5, this is outfield1, do you copy?”
She grinned and depressed the side of her radio. “Outfield1, this is outfield5. Authentication code Tango Foxtrot Bravo. It’s good to hear your voice, sir.”
“Ditto, Captain. You all right?”
Sara looked at Fyn. “Sierra hotel, sir, thanks to a new friend.”
Fyn arched his brows. “Sierra hotel?”
“Means shit hot…which means good?”
He blinked. Why didn’t they just say what they meant?
She grinned. “We’re not allowed to say shit over the radio.”
Her radio crackled again. “Bravo Zulu, Captain. We’ll be stable one in ten.”
“Roger that, sir, we’ll be the ones with our thumbs out.”
Fyn almost rubbed his head. “Thumbs?”
“Oh, sorry. It’s an—”
“—earth thing.”
“If you’re hoofing it, walking, and you want a ride, you stop by the side of the road and put your thumb up, like this—” She bent her arm, her fingers curled in, only her thumb up. “If you’re a girl, you might try a little hip action.” She wiggled her hips and grinned. “And if the driver likes the look of you, he stops and gives you a ride.”
It sounded dangerous, even though he didn’t quite understand it. Ride what?
“Have you ever hitched a ride?” he asked.
“Not until I met you and I didn’t exactly put my thumb out.”
Relief boosted her smile to new heights. He had to return it, though it wasn’t as whole hearted as hers. The gift he’d been sent was double-edged, but most gifts from the gods were. He looked at Sara. She was sort of frowning, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip.
“Problem?” he asked.
“I’m wondering where their ship is?” She picked up one of the disc’s again, studying it for a moment. “Not a car key…”
What did that mean?
She looked down, examining the ground around her ship. “Those are our tracks…”
She crouched down.
“Those aren’t mine. Or yours.”
She stood up. “They lead this way.”
They followed the tracks until they turned into the under growth some distance down the beach.
“I guess you don’t know if they have a self destruct on their craft?”
He didn’t. He felt a flicker of excitement. A Dusan ship was a major find. As far as he knew, not even Kalian had managed to capture one of their ships intact.
As Sara stared into the jungle, a craft, similar in markings and construction to Sara’s ship, but much bulkier, came into view and landed between them and Sara’s ship, sending sand blowing in all directions. A large ramp lowered from one side and five men emerged. One man wore a dark suit like Sara had been wearing when he first found her. The men with him wore loose-fitting, mottled clothing, very much like what Sara had on now. They were heavily armed, their weapons larger than the one Sara carried.
The man, clearly the leader of the group, looked toward Sara’s bird. Sara tapped her radio.
“We’re down here, sir, to your left.” When he looked her way, she waved.
Sara started toward him, but when he got close, she stopped and straightened, bringing her hand to her head, then snapping it down.
“Welcome to—” She hesitated. “Does this planet have a name?”
“Kikk,” he said.
“Kikk, sir. I’d like you to meet Kiernan Fyn. Fyn, Lieutenant Colonel Carey.”
Carey was about the same height as Sara, with an easy going grin, dark hair and friendly blue eyes. He held his hand out without hesitation.
“Pleasure, Fyn. Thanks for taking care of my bubba.”
Fyn blinked. Bubba? He looked at Sara. She shrugged, her expression rueful for a moment, before a veil of reserve dropped in place in her eyes.
“We’ll get you off this rock a-sap, but we’d like to salvage your bird.” He arched a brow in Sara’s direction.
“She’s no hanger queen, sir. With replacement parts, she’ll fly again.”
Carey looked low key, but Fyn sensed the toughness of a seasoned soldier beneath the surface. Fyn instinctively liked him. If all Sara’s people were like him, he’d fallen into good company.
“Good to hear.” He glanced around, then studied Sara. “Why do you look like a jarhead, Donovan?”
Fyn noticed the guys with Carey kind of rolled their eyes. Maybe they were jarheads.
“We had some unfriendlies hoping to heat up the LZ, sir, two positions, there and there.”
“The landing zone?” Carey’s brows arched again.
Sara flushed a bit. “Not a pretty landing, but no smoking hole.”
Carey’s eyes were amused, but he said, soberly, “Very true, Captain. Go on.”
“They were waiting, there and there.” She pointed out the spots.
With a jerk of his chin, Carey sent two of the jarheads to check that out.
“After we made them go away, we collected intel from the bodies.” She pointed into the jungle. “We think they may have parked their ship here. We were just discussing whether it might be booby trapped when you showed up.”
Carey blinked. “You have had a busy time since you bent your bird. How many bandits?”
“Six, sir.”
“Six.” Carey nodded to the other two men. “See if there is a ship in there, but might be better not to touch it until an EOD detail checks it out.”
The two men nodded and faded into the jungle, their weapons ready.
For a moment it seemed that Sara might mention the disc, but she didn’t. She turned with Carey and headed back toward her ship. Fyn cast one, regretful back, then followed them. He’d have liked to be with the jarheads checking out that ship.
“EOD?”
“Explosive Ordinance Disposal.” Sara gave him a quick smile.
“Might have been helpful to interrogate one or two, just to find out what we did to piss them off,” Carey said, mildly.
“You don’t interrogate Dusan,” Fyn said. “They don’t talk and more come.”
<
br /> “Apparently they have internal transmitters, sir.”
Carey stopped and looked at them both for a long moment, before nodding. “Okay.”
Sara stopped by the stuff they’d taken from the bodies and dropped the disc back into the pile. Fyn eyed it, but Carey was looking at him.
“Maybe you could tell us more about these Dusan when we get back to home plate?”
Fyn nodded, thinking, they won’t like what they hear. But they’d survived their first encounter with them, their ship apparently intact.
“How is mom, sir?” Sara asked.
“A few blown fuses and broken dishes. They just hit and ran when the first salvo didn’t take us out.”
“They’re confused, but they’ll be back,” Fyn said. “They always come back.” Actually he was confused, too. Home plate? Mom?
“Well, then lets get the tow set up and get out of here.”
He looked up as the two soldiers rejoined them.
“There’s definitely a ship there, sir. I think we could tow it, too. It’s an ugly mother, but not that big.”
“We better ask the Old Man about that. Maybe we can come back and get it.”
Now the two jarheads checking the dead guys came back.
One of them said, sounding a bit surprised, “Two head shots and one through the heart over there. The other three are just dead.”
He looked at Sara with a questioning lift of his brows.
“Energy weapon,” Sara said. “Disrupts their heart beat. Like the Dusan weapon, right? Only your stun isn’t quite so lethal.”
“Sweet.” Carey looked at Sara. “Nice shooting, Donovan. You, too, Fyn.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Fyn just nodded.
Carey was quiet a moment. “We should bring the bodies back with us. I’m sure the doc would love to do an alien autopsy. Get some body bags, Perkins.” He looked at Sara and Fyn. “These guys can handle the rest, you and Fyn go get settled on board. Oh, and I brought some MREs and go juice. Figured you’d be hungry.”
Sara exchanged a quick look with Fyn, her lips twitching. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
As they walked toward the ship, Fyn asked, “Autopsy?”
Sara made a bit of a face. “That means cut ‘em open. A bit gruesome, but if there is a transmitter in there, be nice to know how it works.”
He nodded thoughtfully. These people’s methods were worth further study. He could gather valuable information if they let him stay. Kalian thought he was dead. There could be no harm in delaying his return. But even as he thought it, he knew that wasn’t the real reason he wanted to stay.
The reason looked at him.
“So, did you live on that stuff or just pull it out to tweak me?”
“That’s pretty much it for eating.”
She shuddered. “Dang. Well, there are some who do not consider an MRE fine cuisine, but I’m guessing you aren’t going to be one of them.”
“MRE?”
“Meals Ready to Eat.”
What was it she’d said? “Sweet.”
Chapter Two
Sara enjoyed the hot food, but the shower was the best, even if it was on a timer. It was heavenly to get that stuff off her face and arms. She slipped on her robe, gathered her stuff and padded back to her quarters. They were so tiny, it was like living in a broom closet, but Sara was glad she didn’t have to bunk with anyone. She was under orders to report to the infirmary, but the Major had given her permission to shower first. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she could see why. The doc wouldn’t have been able to see any injuries.
She’d taken the bandage off her temple before the shower. It had been covered in blood, but the wound underneath was just a thin, red line, more scratch then anything. She wasn’t surprised. She was used to healing fast. It was a good thing. If she got her bird repaired, she’d be returned to duty a lot faster. It’s not like she didn’t know she was a freak of nature.
She slipped on her spare uniform and made her pass through the infirmary. The doc seemed impressed she’d come through the crash with only a scratch and a few bruises. She might have helped him feel okay by minimizing the crash. If he’d seen her ship, he’d have probably put her under the big microscope. She tried to avoid the big microscope.
She was going to visit her bird next, but Colonel Carey called her on the radio and told her to report and be debriefed. She changed directions, wondering how Fyn was getting on. As if her thoughts had summoned him, she rounded an intersection and almost ran into him. He’d also had a shower and someone had found him a change of clothes. He was still tall, but he cleaned up real good. Now the dreads framed a face that was very nicely put together, kind of angular and lean. Dark, arching brows made a nice frame for his green eyes. He had a beard and mustache that drew attention to his mouth. Even stripped of his armament, he still had a dangerous air about him. She had the feeling he didn’t need all the bells and whistles to kick butt.
She realized she was staring and, naturally she blushed. He grinned at her, curling the toes in her boots. She lifted her chin and said, “You scrub up pretty good. You’re almost pretty.”
Actually, he wasn’t pretty. He was smoking hot. She had a feeling that even the most military female heart on the Doolittle was going to be fluttering. Hers certainly was. And he’d kissed her. For luck, but still…dang.
Someone coughed behind him. Sara peered around and realized he had an escort. She looked at Fyn, her lips twitching. He just shrugged, but he was trying not to grin, too.
Nice mouth.
Stop it, Sara.
“Where you headed?” she asked.
“Something about a debriefing?”
“Then we’re heading the same way.” She turned, so she could walk beside him. “When did you pick up Frick and Frack?”
“Right after I met Colonel Halliwell?”
“They don’t know you yet or the Old Man’d have assigned six guys to watch your ass.”
Fyn grinned. “So, are they going to try to retrieve the Dusan vessel?”
“Old Man sent some jarheads and an EOD detail to see if it’s safe to bring it aboard.”
Sara stopped outside a door. “This is it.”
She punched the panel and the door slid back. Carey was there, but she was surprised to see the Old Man, too. Crap. Colonel Halliwell had sat down with her when he was picking his crew and that had been pretty intense. The Old Man had eyes that drilled clear through to your soul. Sara had left the interview feeling like she’d been turned inside out. Halliwell, a full bird colonel, was a tall man, as tall as Sara, with piercing blue eyes and an uncompromising mouth. His bald head was well-shaped and he had a lean, tough build.
She entered and came to attention, feeling herself start to sweat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fyn come in, followed by the watch dogs, like a liner with a couple of rowboats in tow. She saw Halliwell’s gaze flicker that way. A slight look of amusement softened his stern expression.
“At ease.” Halliwell moved to the head of the table. “Everyone grab a chair and let’s get started.” His gaze pinged on her like radar. “You almost had a nylon letdown, Captain.”
Talk about a glass half full. She hadn’t punched out.
She lifted her chin. “Yes, sir.”
The Old Man didn’t like excuses.
He stared at her for a long moment. Her throat dried. If he grounded her she might as well go back to her own galaxy next resupply.
“Looked like it was a real furball. You splashed five bandits,” some phrases just stuck, even in outer space, “and got knocked down while providing cover fire for your wing man. You and your bird survived. Not bad for your first dog fight. Think you can get your ship up again?”
“Yes, sir.” The words came out on a relieved exhale.
“Good. Anything you want to add?”
She hesitated. She really didn’t want to add it. She wanted to forget it, but everything mattered out here, even stuff that couldn
’t be explained.
“There was one other thing, sir.”
His brows arched.
“As I was going in, I was doing some bat turns, trying to bring my speed down. I was still feet wet and I got this energy spike reading on my sensors. And…I thought I saw…something.”
“Something?” He angled his head and his brows arched.
She should have known he wouldn’t let her get away with that.
“A city, sir. On an island.”
“You saw a city on an island?” He didn’t just sound skeptical, he looked it, too.
She lifted her chin. “It was just a glimpse, sir, but it was there and then it was gone.”
She felt color rise in her face. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.
The Old Man looked at Fyn. “Do you know anything about this?”
Fyn was quiet for a moment. “There are stories that the Garradians had an outpost out here somewhere. That’s one reason the Dusan still monitor this sector.”
“Any stories about them having cloaking technology?” Carey asked.
Fyn shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors that they had many wonders.”
Sara was getting used to his abbreviated style of delivering information, but she could tell it was frustrating the Colonel.
“Who are these Garradians?” There was a bit of a bite to the Old Man’s voice.
“Depends on who you ask,” Fyn said. “Some say they used to have outposts all over the galaxy. That they are the ones who invented inter-planetary travel. Others say they never existed.”
Sara saw him kind of hesitate, as if he could have said more, but stopped.
“So if they did exist, they’re gone? Why did they leave and when?” Carey wanted to know.
Fyn shrugged. “Before my time.”
“Before the Dusan?” Halliwell frowned.
Fyn shrugged again. It seemed to be his primary mode of conversation.
“Who are the major players in this galaxy?” Carey gave Sara a quick grin.
“The Dusan and the Gadi. They’ve been fighting each other, well, long as anyone I know remembers.”
“Hatfields and McCoys,” Carey said. “All the best galaxies have them. So who do we want to win?”
Fyn blinked once, then he frowned. “Any worlds that are still intact are aligned with the Gadi. If they weren’t, they were absorbed by the Dusan.”
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 178
