The Key (21 page)

Take her to the city.

Fyn looked around. No one was looking at him. Clearly no one had spoken to him.

“Thanks, doc. Let’s go see the colonel,” Carey said. “He’ll want to…know.”

They were both quiet as they traversed the ship to the bridge. Halliwell took them into his wardroom.

“What happened, sir?” Carey asked, once they were alone.

“All I know, first our shields went up on their own, then they were going down, when they suddenly went back up again.” Halliwell rubbed his head tiredly. “Damnedest thing I ever saw. And then some kind of energy surge hit their ship. It…threw them right out of our neighborhood. Tracking in the city showed ‘em taking a hyperspace jump away when they stopped spinning.”

“Damn.” Carey looked thoughtful. “Did it come from the planet?”

“We thought so, but they thought it came from us, though they won’t…discount the possibility it came from there and they just didn’t see it.”

Carey made a kind of face. “If there is an AI down there, glad it likes us. That’s twice it’s saved our asses.”

Did it like them, Fyn wondered…or was it Sara? It was her ship that got pulled to the city. Was it possible that she really was descended from this Miri? If she was, the Dusan wouldn’t be the only ones interested in her. How long would it be before information about her reached Kalian?

“When does your other ship arrive?” Fyn asked.

“Still a week out.” Halliwell frowned. “Do you think they’ll try again?”

Fyn shrugged. “I wish Sara was on the island.” Even Kalian couldn’t get at her there.

“You think they were after her?”

Fyn looked at him. “Don’t you? The energy weapon they were firing was designed to take down shields, leaving the ship intact.”

Luckily neither man asked him how he knew that.

“But they almost killed her,” Carey protested.

“What?” Halliwell stiffened.

“Sorry, sir, that’s what we came to report. Doc isn’t sure, but thinks she got some kind of electrical feedback. She’s…pretty weak.”

Take her to the city.

Fyn didn’t look around this time. He hesitated. “Do you think they’d have some technology down there that could help her? Maybe this AI would do something.”

“Our people haven’t found anything yet.” Halliwell looked grim.

“Doesn’t mean there isn’t something there,” Fyn said. “If it is… intelligent…maybe it will help. The AI…made first contact with her.”

Carey started to look thoughtful. “That’s true, sir.”

“Is it safe to move her?” Halliwell started to look interested.

“We can ask the doc—but if he can’t help her, then we should take the risk. She’s going away if we don’t do something.”

Halliwell rubbed his head again. “Do it.”

* * * *

Fyn held Sara’s hand as the transport lifted off and took a heading toward Kikk. Her hand felt cold, like most of her was already gone.

A monitor next to her beeped regularly, proof she wasn’t, but the beats were getting further apart. Only last night she’d been singing, her gaze slanting his way from time to time.

Sometime during the ride to the planet, he could feel his… loyalties…shift, not just to Sara, but to her people. What had driven him into the Ojemba, it still mattered, but Sara mattered more. It was that simple.

He just hoped it would be that simple to get clear of them. He wished he had told the colonel about the Ojemba when he first came aboard. Now it was too late. All he could do is hope they never found out…

It seemed to take a long time to reach the city. Once Carey touched down, he released the rear hatch, so they could roll her stretcher out, though no one knew where to take her.

The medic adjusted her monitors, then pushed the stretcher down the ramp. Fyn walked beside it, still holding her hand. As soon as the stretcher cleared the ramp, a row of lights appeared in the stone path, stopping at a junction in the pathways ahead of them.

Carey looked at him. “I guess we follow the yellow…light…path.”

At his direction, the medic pushed the stretcher along the path. Carey walked ahead, weapon’s ready. When they reached the end of the lights, a new line of them appeared, disappearing around the side of the main building. The line of lights behind them disappeared.

Fyn pulled his weapon, eyeing the surrounding under growth. Light was fading fast and no one had really determined if there were biters on the island.

The path of lights led them gradually to a building near the shoreline of the island. As they approached, doors slid back. The interior had the look of a hospital about it. The smells were old, antiseptic.

Now the lights made a straight line to what looked like a dead end against a wall, but when they reached it, panels slid back.

Carey leaned in and studied it. “Could be an elevator. Let’s go.”

Once they were inside, there was a soft, green glow and then the doors opened again on a different corridor.

“Okay. A really fast elevator.” Carey peered out and once again the path of lights showed them the way. About halfway down this corridor, the lights made a right turn. “I think we’re almost there.”

Another door slid back for them and lights came on in a room that reminded Fyn of the infirmary on the
Doolittle
. The lights stopped at a table in the center of the room. There was a circle of lights over this and consoles on two sides.

“Let’s lift her on it,” Carey said. He looked as uneasy as the medic now.

Fyn was starting to have second thoughts, too, but if they left, what then? The beep of the monitor was slowing. She was dying.

The medic removed all the wires, and then stepped back. Fyn slid his arms under her and gently shifted her to the table. It wasn’t hard and seemed to expand to cushion and support her.

The light path formed into a circle around the table and began flashing.

“I think we’re supposed to step back,” Carey said.

Once they’d cleared the circle, the lights stopped flashing. Now the various monitors around the room began to turn on. The medic stepped up to one, but then just shook his head.

“No clue, sir.”

The lights over the bed began to glow and then beams of light shot down between them and Sara, like golden rain. In the light, Fyn thought he saw beads, like the ones that left Sara during the battle.

The medic seemed fascinated with it and reached out to touch the streams. Carey grabbed his arm. “I wouldn’t.”

“Right, sir, sorry.”

Gradually the light curtain began to slow. The streams thinned and then it was gone. The room went quiet, the monitors all shut down. The light dimmed, putting them all into shadow.

After a short pause, the medic approached her and checked her pulse.

“It’s stronger, sir.” He turned to get the heart monitor, but while his back was turned, Sara sighed and opened her eyes.

For a moment, she stared up, and then a slight frown formed between her brows.

“Donovan?”

Her head turned toward his voice. She blinked. “Colonel Carey?”

He stepped up beside her. “Who else would it be?”

Her mouth curved. “Sorry, sir.” She blinked again. “Where am I?”

“You’re on the island, their version of a hospital, we think.”

Her hand touched her heart, then spread over the spot. She seemed surprised.

“My…heart stopped.”

“It’s going again.” Carey looked at Fyn. “How do you feel?”

“Surprised.”

“Surprised?”

“To be alive” She looked at him. “Is mom all right?”

Carey grinned. “Yes, she is.”

“That’s good.” Her eyes closed as she sighed.

Fyn saw Carey give him another look and finally got his legs in motion. He looked down at her. Her lids lifted.

“I’d like to get up.” She looked down, her eyes widening in horror. “Where’s my uniform?”

The medic cleared his throat. “In the infirmary. On the ship.”

“I don’t suppose anyone thought to bring me something to wear?”

Fyn looked at Carey, who looked at the medic, who shrugged.

“You were all real optimistic about this, weren’t you?”

“We didn’t bring a body bag,” Carey pointed out.

“At least it would be something to wear without a flap in the back.” Sara sounded stern, but her lips twitched.

Carey opened his mouth, shut it. “I should let the colonel know you’re all right.”

As he stepped out into the hall and activated his radio, Fyn wished he could think of a reason to join him.

“Give me your knife,” she told Fyn.

“What?” Who was she going to cut?

“Your knife.”

He handed her one, exchanging an uneasy look with the medic. She grabbed the blanket covering her and cut a hole in it.

“Hey, that’s government property,” the medic protested.

Sara looked at him. “So am I.”

She pulled the blanket over her head and arranged the folds. She handed the knife back, then looked down.

She held out her hand.

Fyn took it. It was warm again and it…fit in his. She used it to pull herself off the table, landing lightly on the floor. The blanket fell around her in folds, leaving a lot of leg bare.

Fyn had to look. Apparently so did the medic.

Sara cleared her throat to get the medic’s attention. “If you don’t want to be wearing this, eyes up.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” But he still peeked.

Sara held one leg out and studied it, her head to one side. She looked up and caught Fyn watching her. She grinned.

“What is the big deal about a couple of legs anyway?”

Fyn looked at the medic. If she didn’t know, he couldn’t explain it.

Part Two – Eight

Sara got her breakfast tray and found an empty table. As she settled down to eat, it was hard not to feel like she’d gone back in time. She’d been in the island city for a week…a really long week. Not only was she still grounded, she was stuck with the jarheads and the scientists—none of whom were interested in a fighter puke. She missed mother, the squadron and Fyn. The order of missing depended on her mood.

To keep her busy and out of everyone’s way, the Old Man had assigned her to survey and map the city. He said it was an “opportunity to excel,” which basically meant the job sucked and no one else wanted to do it. And she wouldn’t get any help from anyone.

It wasn’t that Sara minded exploring the city. It was a very interesting place, more than the geeks knew. But she was a pilot, not a cartographer. She’d found some pretty cool stuff, but the head geek, Dr. Smith, a guy who considered her the lint on a bug’s shoe, was pissed she’d been assigned to them, so he didn’t want to talk to her or hear about anything she’d found. So she wrote reports he probably wasn’t reading.

Since her return to the city, her connection with the computer had grown. She’d started reading one of the Garradian books on her lunch break. It wasn’t easy going, but she was making some headway. Either the book was a novel or a history of some kind. Not sure which yet, but she was really into the main characters.

There was also no more booming with the band. The Old Man had sent her stuff down, so she had her keyboard. Most evenings she sat in her room with headphones on, picking out Nora Jones songs and trying not to think about all the things she was missing.

The
Patton
was due to reach the galaxy any day. The outpost would be reinforced and both it and the
Doolittle
would be resupplied. Hopefully then she could return to the ship and her real life.

It was ironic. She’d spent most of her life like this, eating alone and living isolated. She’d actually preferred it. But something had happened when she met Fyn. She’d connected, and not just with Fyn. It was hard to go back. She’d always gone forward.

Though Smith dismissed the AI theory, probably because Sara was the first to bring it up, Sara was convinced that it did exist, or at least something…was alive. It went where Sara went, occasionally providing a hint to something interesting.

Technically Sara wasn’t supposed to be wandering around on her own. Henderson, the SO for the expedition, should have assigned her one his jarheads, but after two days with her, none of the Marines wanted the job.

And, to be fair, Sara didn’t want them. She didn’t want an audience for some of the things that happened to her.

Sara finished her breakfast and took her tray over to the clean up point, picked up her sack lunch, then headed back to her quarters to gear up.

Even though the outpost appeared benign, they were all under orders to wear vests and carry all armament when they went outside the main security zone. On earth, she would have been wearing a standard AF uniform, but out here, everyone mostly wore ABU’s. It was a tiger stripe pattern that provided much better camouflage under all types of conditions. It was lightweight and comfortable, too, not to mention wash and wear.

Sara checked her pack, and then stowed her side arm and knife. Her P-90 hung off a clip on the front of her vest. She had her book to read, her lunch and that funny flute she’d found on her last visit. She was getting pretty good with it. When she was ready, she got on the radio with Henderson.

“This is Donovan, sir. I’m heading out. I’ll be in Zone Five again.” From what she could tell, this zone had a lot research type crap. And it was close to the ocean. She could eat lunch on the beach and play some tunes. When she played there, these dolphin-like critters would come close to the shoreline and leap and play for her.

“Roger that.” Henderson didn’t yawn in her ear, but it sounded like it was a near thing.

It would have taken Sara about forty-five minutes to walk to the zone, but on her first solo day out, her AI—Sara called her Ruby—had “introduced” her to a sort of subway system. Not that a subway moved that fast. And these weren’t underground.

Sara slipped on shades and her cap, and then stepped out into the bright, light morning. She was almost getting used to that blue-green sky and it was nice to have a breeze on her face.

She headed toward the first subway depot, stepping through an arched doorway, into a small chamber that kind of reminded her of pictures she’d seen of Victoria Station in London. The painting on the wall was actually a map of the city—and a sort of touch screen. She touched her destination and off she went.