Girl Gone Nova (11 page)

The thought was almost a relief. It was something he could live with. It would, he decided, be good for him to get off his vessel and back into his normal life. This place, these people—Delilah—threatened his certainty that he had his world, his life, under control. No, not them, the bombing had done this. He would give no ground, not inside his head or in his life. He turned toward the door, determined to leave.

General Halliwell was the last person Hel expected to see in the opening. Even more surprising, he entered and shut the door behind him. When Halliwell crossed his arms over his barrel of a chest, it was almost a relief. That was normal.

“Can I help you, General?” Hel rose to his feet, meeting the power play with one of his own. His senses were tingling with warning. If the General wanted him dead, now was the time to do it.

“I will support your request for access to the Kikk outpost. Assign someone you trust to liaise with my security officer and start picking a team.”

Just like that. Hel studied his face, looking for the deception, the trick. The General had fought this from the moment the outpost had been located. He could not, he would not, concede without a good reason.

“You are serious.” Hel didn’t make it a question, though it was one.

“I am.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve given orders to start transferring your people to your medical facilities. I understand they are ready to receive the wounded?”

Hel nodded, still wary.

“Send me your people’s ETA when you know it.” His gaze bored into Hel for a long moment. “The recent bombing was a failure of both our security efforts.”

“Yes.” This was a concession he hadn’t expected. He’d been sure the General would use it as another reason to keep them out. He wanted to ask what had changed, but the General wouldn’t tell him. At the moment, it was enough to know he felt partially culpable for the incident.

The hard gaze studied him again. His nod was short and sharp. “I’m going to arrange secure, direct communication. For now, I’d prefer to bypass the diplomats.”

Hel’s eyes widened at that. “They are the bane of my existence as well.” It was illegal, of course, but legal contact hadn’t worked. Hel was willing to take the risk. This might, just might, be enough to stave off war. Then again, his unofficial sources were sending him some very disturbing reports about power brokering on the Gadi ruling council. He didn’t need those warnings to feel a chill down his back. He’d allowed himself to linger, to get distracted; now it was time to refocus on his political priorities.

“You’re leaving for Kikk soon?” His tone was curious, none of the anxiety he felt bleeding through into his words. He didn’t think his enemies would make another try at the General or his ship, but he hadn’t expected the attack at the reception either. His world had changed. He needed to start expecting the unexpected. Hel believed he still controlled most of the fleet, but that could change if his supporters thought he was too weak to lead.

It would be interesting to see the next move, assuming he survived his arrival on the planet. He’d survived worse than this, but he would take nothing for granted. He’d already begun to make discreet arrangements for the safety of his mother and sons, not that his mother would thank him for it.

“As soon as your people are dirt side,” the General said, his hard gaze hitting Hel’s.

Hel held his gaze as he said, “That is wise.”

The General’s eyes widened, signaling the warning had been received.

Hel thought he’d leave but he stood there, letting the silence build.

“Was there something else, General?”

“We have some people missing.”

The words sounded forced, unlike the General. Hel felt like he’d missed something. “Missing? Since when?”

“It happened during the battle with the Dusan.” The General paced toward the door, paused and turned to face him, his hands clasped behind his back. “On the outpost, there are these doors, portals, we call them. You go through and end up—”

“Where?” Hel was curious now and not just because he was hearing about the outpost. At last. The General was not usually so hesitant in what he said.

“We aren’t sure.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. Hel felt this in his core.

“At the time, it seemed a better option for our civilians. If the Dusan had won…”

He didn’t need to finish. They both knew that mercy wasn’t a Dusan trait.

“Our people, our scientists, think they were originally set for two-way transport, but were reset to one-way when the Garradians abandoned the outpost. We haven’t figured out how to reset them.”

So this wasn’t about where, this was about getting the technology to work, which meant they hadn’t figured it out yet, just as he’d suspected.

“I see.” Hel did see. Many things were clear, such as the reason for the General’s unwillingness to abandon the outpost. He’d assumed it was the weapons they were after—and Hel was sure they still were after weapons. How could they not want the weapons? But he also knew their attachment to their people. His thoughts spun with possibilities and questions.

“Do you think your scientists could help?”

The General didn’t choke on the words. It was something of a surprise.

“I will direct them to try.” If bringing the General’s people home would speed their departure, he would order his people to try.

“Good.” He still hesitated.

This was not a General Halliwell he was familiar with. Hel resisted the urge to shift in unease.

“We’ve made some progress on your people’s request for a political mating. Finding someone willing to make the sacrifice slowed the process down.” If anything the General’s face got stonier.

“Sacrifice?” Perhaps the General should have left this discussion for the actual diplomats.

“Don’t you think it’s a sacrifice to leave your own galaxy and adopt a whole new life and culture?”

Hel hadn’t thought about it quite that way.

“My people tell me you’ve met Gretchen Bilstead?”

Met her and remembered her. Her name was as unattractive as her person. He tugged at his shirt collar.

“I have met her. She is,” he swallowed, “willing to make this sacrifice?” He tugged at his shirt collar again. It still didn’t help. Perhaps they shouldn’t have pressed so hard for the alliance. It had been amusing until now.

The silence seemed long and then the General did something Hel had never seen him do. He smiled. Hel hoped he never did it again.

“I thought you liked teasing, Leader.”

“You were,” Hel swallowed to ease his dry throat, “teasing?” He gave a weak smile. “Point taken. I will only make serious requests.”

“And I’ll try not to get
beautifully angry.
”

Hel tensed. There was only one person who could have told the general that comment.

“Then we are in agreement.”

It was a rare moment. It wouldn’t last, but Hel felt he should enjoy the moment.

“I’ll say good-bye. I need to ready the ship for departure.”

“Of course. I must go as well.”

The general looked like he wanted to add something, but in the end he just nodded and left.

Hel’s brain sifted through the scene as he waited for the summons to leave the ship. He’d learned much from the brief encounter, perhaps more than he’d learned since their arrival in the galaxy, some of it information he was sure the General hadn’t meant him to learn. It was a short, though interesting list.

The General did not trust his diplomatic channels, didn’t trust what they were telling him about the Gadi or that accurate information was being passed on to the Gadi. Did he believe the security breach was related to this problem? Probably, Hel concluded. It was possible he had the same information blockage with his people. For a conspiracy of this magnitude, complicity would have to be on both sides. Unlike the General, he wasn’t surprised. The Gadi liked plotting even more than they needed beauty in their surroundings.

The General hadn’t mentioned anything about the outpost except these things they called the portals. There was a reason for this brevity, Hel was certain. Did he seek to distract attention from their progress related to other technology there? Or was his purpose to avoid admitting they could do nothing with any of the technology? He rather thought it was both, and not just because he wanted both those things to be true. The General wasn’t that devious, though he seemed to believe he was.

He’d been frank and open in the information exchange. The General must hope Hel would accept the information as it had been delivered, and he might have, if the General had ever been frank and open in their past dealings. And if he’d stopped before resorting to clumsy teasing to make a point. He’d made his point—this was a serious situation and it needed Hel’s serious attention—but in the process he’d also revealed his source of information.

It wasn’t just that Delilah had told the General about Hel’s teasing, but that she had
access
that allowed her to pass it on. The
Doolittle
wasn’t a small ship. If he were to make an access comparison with his people, it would be as if he’d sat down with the helper of Council member Carig’s personal aide’s assistant. The Earth hierarchy was more relaxed than theirs in some ways, but it did have strict military protocols. She appeared to be non-military and was working in the infirmary. She could have been assigned as the General’s healer, but in what context would such a revelation occur between Delilah and the General?

The General must have noticed Hel’s interest in Delilah and had warned her about Hel, though when he could have noticed was a puzzle. The only place they’d been together publically was at the reception, and that was a brief meeting interrupted by a bomb. Why would the General bother with such a warning anyway? He and Delilah were going their separate ways. There was little chance they’d see each other again, particularly if war broke out.

This thought hollowed out his chest in an unsettling way and he felt regret at what might come. He didn’t let his focus be split with attachments. It had served him well during his years leading the Ojemba, though not as well in the matter of Fyn and Sara. Thinking of Sara was a good reminder of what happened when he let himself get distracted by a woman.

At least, he thought with a wry grin, the women who distracted him were extraordinary. The long war with the Dusan had taught him what he could change and what he couldn’t. As for the rest, his enemies better hope they killed him sooner rather than later.

He needed to think on it some more, but first he needed to get off this ship.

The ever efficient Simmons tapped on his door before poking her head in. “Are you ready to transport, sir?”

He gave Simmons a cool smile. “I am ready.”

Briggs was ready for Doc when she arrived in the repair bay. As usual, it was in pristine condition, despite the dirty work done there.

“You’re late.”

“I had to pack.” She’d also decided to get a haircut. She needed one and she hoped it would change her appearance enough to confuse things if someone noticed her in the shuttle bay. Her hair was terminally straight and, if she believed the stylist, the chin length cut suited hair and face. Perhaps the shorter length would also minimize the Morticia comparisons, though she wouldn’t count on it until it happened. She lifted her chin when Briggs gaze lingered on the new do for what seemed like a long time.

She’d also taken time to pack an overnight bag—and had something to put it in thanks to the efficient Simmons arranging for her laundry to get done. She didn’t need much. The
Doolittle
should be right on her heels. As much as the General had wanted to keep the Gadi off the outpost—he now wanted them on it. It was no surprise when Briggs refrained from comment and led her to a storage bay. He had three Garradian ships for her to consider.

“They have missing systems,” Briggs explained, “but they’ll fly. This one still has some weapons, but none of them have a cloak.” He cocked a brow in an unspoken question.

“Shouldn’t need a cloak,” Doc murmured, looking at the craft. Two were sleek and deadly looking, though in a different way from the expedition’s fighter craft. One looked like some kind of shuttle craft, clunky compared to the fighters. The fighters would be more fun. “I suppose I should take that one.”

She pointed without enthusiasm at the shuttle.

Briggs gave her a look. It was the same one he gave her when she missed a dance step.

“That’s no fun.”

Her lips twitched. “Am I allowed to have fun?”

“I could make it an order.”

Doc grinned. “One I’m happy to obey, sir. I’d like to leave sooner, rather than later.”

“You could already be gone,” he pointed out, then added, “You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

Her brows shot up. She’d never have pegged him as protective. “I always am.”

Now she’d surprised herself. Had she ever said anything quite so revealing? Or so true?

He scowled. “You’re not as tough as you think you are.”

She considered this. How tough did she think she was? “True.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

His scowl deepened. “For what?”

“For worrying.” Something in his face prompted her to add, “About your ship, I mean. You wouldn’t worry about
a girl
. I know that.” Sara had warned her about Briggs so-called prejudices. He was cute in a tough, scary way.

He grunted. “I’ll prep the one with weapons.”

His tone told her not to argue it. She could have told him she didn’t plan to. She liked traveling with weapons, the bigger the better.

“Colonel Carey is waiting to issue your gear.”

As she walked away from him, she shrugged on fighter pilot, her smooth stride turning into a military swagger. It felt good, felt comfortable and she liked that, even if it wasn’t real. There wasn’t much about her that was real. It was an uncomfortable thought, so she pushed it away, turning her attention to the Colonel.

Doc hadn’t been around Colonel Carey that much, but she knew
of
him, knew Sara’s Fyn liked him more than anyone but Sara. They both trusted him. Obvious that Briggs did, too. He couldn’t get better recommendations in her view. Maybe someday Fyn would trust her, too. She wasn’t holding her breath while she waited. He’d made it very clear what he’d do to her if she betrayed Sara’s trust. It was cute that he thought he could take her.