Girl Gone Nova (19 page)

She could even lie well to herself. Because she had felt like a girl once. With Hel. But she couldn’t afford to think about him right now. She felt a quiver of something in her gut at the thought of Hel, at the thought of never seeing him again. It kicked on her senses.

Smell came first. Conan—she refused to use his real name, even inside her head—didn’t smell as bad as she’d have expected, given the layer of dirt coating him. He smelled of the earth and the sky and of guy, she supposed. She could see the texture of his skin under the dirt and beard, and she could feel the intensity of his will. The guy might be as stubborn as she was, but the lack of plumbing scared her more than he did.

“Tell me your name.” His tone was softer, as if he sensed the change in her.

It was enough to bring her defenses crashing down with an internal clang. The barbarians were at the gate. Not the time to lose focus.

He touched her chin with his finger, lifting it until their gazes intersected. “Your name?”

He thought he’d won. It was there in his eyes. There was something else there. Names appeared to be important. She flicked her gaze over him, let a hint of dismissive in and then mainlined bitch and beyond, just to make sure he got the message.

He did. His face hardened, sending an icy chill down her back and not in a good way. Doc tensed, bringing her inner warrior online, just in case.

“If we can’t name her—”

A look from Bana cut off the words, but not in time. A hint of chagrin in Bana’s expression confirmed Doc’s initial hypothesis. Names mattered.

“I’m Eamon.”

The gabby one pointed to his chest, just in case she didn’t realize he was talking about himself. It was a pretty good chest, but she didn’t want to take it home with her. Or live in a tent with it.

“I’m Cadir,” the horny one said, defiant for reasons that weren’t clear. Her gaze shifted between the two men. They could have been brothers, probably were. Maybe age mattered, too. Eamon got first dibs?

Cadir was grimy cute, but also not enough to tempt. They were both young enough to qualify her as a Cougar. While it was always good to have a goal, getting it on with younger men had never been one of hers and adding it to her to-do list seemed contraindicated under the circumstances. She couldn’t decide if Conan was closer to her age or not. The dirt hid a lot, as did the pissy expression, and he had the added air of command clouding the issue. It also wasn’t clear if he were a contender for her hand or an enabler for his henchmen.

Doc stared straight ahead for a few seconds and then blinked. She didn’t yawn, but it was implied. All three looked annoyed. Nice when cause was followed so closely on effect.

Conan huffed as he rose, staring down at Doc. He had imposing down pat, but at least he wasn’t touching her anymore.

“Make her understand.”

Doc could feel Bana mull over whether to out her or not, like there was a question about which side she was on.

Only the guys were surprised when Bana said, “She understands.”

“If she understands, why doesn’t she speak?”

Bana met her cool look and upped the ante. “Do you wish to tell them or should I?”

Doc waited a ten count, shrugged. “You’re doing so well.”

Conan puffed up, like an angry cat, but without the cute factor. He was more like a sabertooth tiger, but Doc didn’t know if they puffed up. That was the problem with using an extinct species in an analogy, not enough information to be sure it was apt.

“Why would you do this?”

Doc gave him a cool look. Her tone was flat, indifferent. “You shot me.”

He crossed his arms over a chest Doc had to concede was nicely put together. “I stunned you.”

“By shooting me.”

It was habit to evaluate the impact of her words and tone on a target and she had no reason to make an exception with Conan. Susceptibility was an unknown but could be estimated with reasonable accuracy. Based on limited observed data, this was a guy who hadn’t been crossed too often. Lack of exposure to annoying behavior would increase his inability to maintain patience and focus.

She wasn’t surprised when smoke almost came out his ears, and she was pretty sure sparks did come out of his eyes. She
was
surprised he didn’t shoot her again. He had better self-control than observed data indicated.

She pointedly rubbed a sore shoulder.

“The mead would ease the pain,” Eamon pointed out.

Doc looked down at the dead bush and then back at him.

“It is not for plants.”

“But useful in lowering inhibitions.” Should she have said that? Hard to act stupid when she wasn’t.

“It is true that we hoped it would ease your transition into our community,” Bana said, giving the three men yet another of her warning looks.

Maybe she should just tell them to shut up. It’s not like Doc couldn’t see “the look.” Maybe she’d upped the old woman’s IQ a bit too high. Doc looked around the encampment, taking her time before returning her attention to their little grouping.

“Your
community
is a bit too rustic for my taste. Even getting drunk wouldn’t help me
transition
.” Doc felt like she was channeling her mum, she sounded so coolly British. It was kind of comforting.

“You don’t like my home?” Conan growled the words. The guy had all the finesse of Hitler, minus the great personality.

“I haven’t seen your home.”

Conan frowned, like he was puzzled. Perhaps she’d been too subtle.

“This isn’t your home.”

“This is where we live.” Again, Bana’s tone contained a warning.

Doc wasn’t sure if it was for the guys or her. “I wouldn’t call this living.”

Cadir leaned closer. “We mean you no harm, woman.”

Yeah, she already knew what he wanted to do and it would do her harm, even if he didn’t know it. She hadn’t been created to sit in front of a tent and stir a pot. Her gaze shifted to the other women and she almost felt envy. It was no gift to be her.

She returned her attention to Cadir. “You shot me.”

“We were trying to help you,” Eamon corrected.

She wouldn’t have needed “help” if they hadn’t yanked her out of the sky, but it seemed they were all pretending that hadn’t happened.

“By shooting me?”

“I think she’s upset you shot her, Vidor,” Eamon said, his delight a bit too obvious.

He was like a large, untrained dog. She’d never had a pet, but he didn’t look house-trained.

“Neither of you stopped him,” Doc pointed out. In point of fact, they’d tried to shoot her, too.

That wiped out the grin. Now he looked like a sulky dog. “You hurt
me
and I am not upset with
you
.”

“You haven’t been beat up by a girl before, have you?”

“I haven’t done anything with a girl,” he admitted with a frankness that was kind of cute, in a lame way. “When we are married—”

Married.
Not mated? Doc rubbed the tight spot between her brows. Usually it took
them
and the impossible to make her head
 
ache, but they’d managed it in four, short minutes.

“Are you hungry?” Bana seemed to think a change of subject would help.

She was wrong. Doc sniffed the air and then wished she hadn’t.

She made a face. “No.”

“You lack manners,” Conan growled the words. Perhaps he only had the one tone.

“You shot me.”

He slammed his hands on the table between them, making the mead cup bounce along the surface. He leaned in until his face was inches from hers.

“Tell me your name.”

Menace quivered in the air between them, his hot, hers cold.

“Vidor, let the girl breathe.”

He waited almost a whole minute, his gaze locked on hers, before straightening. Doc lifted her lashes, holding his stare as he moved back, determined not to be the one who looked away first.

“Vidor.” Bana’s voice was more insistent.

Conan broke the look-lock. Doc didn’t sag in relief on the outside, the inside was another story. The guy must have been a steamroller in another life.

“Sit.” Bana’s tone was soft, but Conan sat. “We’ll eat now.” Her gaze shifted to Doc. “All of us.”

Doc realized that someone had set a bowl in front of her during her stare down with Conan. It didn’t smell any better up close. And it looked worse than it smelled. Pit toilets and gray sludge. The facts were in. The hypothesis confirmed. This was hell.

Hel knew that even with reduced access to information, the highly motivated General Halliwell would be close on his heels, in both planning and in action. They were a resourceful people. The General had forwarded him the report from the search team, most likely a carefully edited version. It noted that Doctor Clementyne had been apprehended by unknown hostiles some distance from where she’d touched down. Hel could fill in the missing parts. He’d faced down those with hostile intent many times during his Ojemba operations.

If she had survived the encounter, Delilah would find a way to aid in her own rescue. And when she did, he needed to be closer to where she’d been taken than the
Doolittle.
It would be difficult to accomplish in a Gadi ship, but he had a way—and a ship—that would let him move freely about the galaxy. He’d improved this ship with a Garradian cloak—and modified it so that it would be undetectable by the outpost’s sensors.

There were concerns with leaving his ship. He could stay in constant contact, but if his enemies moved on him, it would make his life interesting. He did not know when his enemies would act again, or how. He just knew they would.

He pulled the Gadi deployment map back up. All but two ships had obeyed orders—the two closest to Kikk. He’d need to deal with them before dropping off the grid.

* * * * *

Halliwell may have only recently become acquainted with Doctor Clementyne, but it didn’t take a lot of interaction to know that she was a resourceful young woman. He knew in his gut that Giddioni knew this, too. He didn’t know where the doctor was, but he was sure of two things.

Helfron Giddioni was going to bust his butt to find her first and forget to mention it if he did.

The Doc would do her damndest to help someone find her.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that the person most equipped to find Dr. Clementyne was Dr. Clementyne. Her mind was both agile and devious. Could he get some of their geeks to think like her?

He’d have to assume that they hadn’t been told everything the Gadi knew and that Giddioni had a head start on the search. He knew the galaxy and had resources that the expedition lacked. But they had some information Giddioni didn’t have: the black box from the Doc’s ship. He’d had the geeks send some of the data, but not all of it. He had to look like they were one big cooperating family, but didn’t mean they had to
be
that family.

He waited until the geek squad was seated around the table in his ready room before strolling to the head of that table. He stared at each geek long enough to make them tug at the necks of their tee shirts. It was a fine line, scaring them enough to make them think, but not so much they went brain dead.

“You’ve seen the data shared by the Gadi. How is it possible for someone to be operating so brazenly in the galaxy and we don’t know about it?”

When the excuses trickled to a stop, there was one geek with a decent brain, but an addiction to big words and an inability to shut up. Halliwell let him go on for a few minutes before he cut him off.

“So we have holes in our scanning that someone has been exploiting?”

The geek, with the forgettable name of James, considered this for far too long, then pushed up his glasses and nodded.

“How do we plug the holes?”

A geek without glasses looked up from his computer screen. “Maybe we don’t have to. Looks like the Gadi are already working on it.”

Well, color me not surprised
. “Show me,” Halliwell ordered.

Glassless geek did something to make what he was looking at show up on the HUD. Then he added in scan capability based on Gadi ship deployment.

Halliwell studied the HUD. It didn’t make him happy they were thinking along the same lines as the Leader—not when they were behind. He noticed something.

“What about these two ships? What are they scanning?”

James did some checking, then looked up. “Us.”

Halliwell stiffened. “Is this a new deployment?”

More clicking of keys.

“No, sir, well, not for them. There used to be a cluster of nine ships there, but seven of them have moved into the new configuration.”

Two Gadi ships didn’t scare him, not with the outpost at his back.

“When is the Leader’s flagship due to arrive?” He walked up to the HUD.

“Not for five days, sir. They aren’t rushing it.”

Also not a surprise.
Giddioni needed time to find the Doc first.

“Which ships were among the nine? Show me where they are now.”

When one of the geeks did, Halliwell studied the deployment. Interesting. Giddioni had moved them to the outer fringes of the no-go frontier, the corridor between what used to be Dusan and the free section of the galaxy.
I wonder whose ass he’s trying to protect with that deployment.

“Is there any way for us to tap into the Gadi scans without their knowing about it?”

Glassless geek looked the most surprised. “You want us to hack the Gadi system?”

“They’re looking for something specific, and I want to know what that is so we can look for it, too.” Halliwell turned to give him his signature Look. It had been known to make some men wet their pants. “Is that a problem?”

More tie tugging. “No, sir.”

“I also want to know if there’s any covert contact between those two ships and our ships or the outpost.”

James, the smart one, swallowed visibly. “You think someone is—”

He couldn’t say it, so Halliwell said it for him. “Betraying us? I don’t think it. I know it.” He paused, bumped up “the look” a notch. “If you can’t find it, then I’ll have to assume you’re the leak. And you don’t want to know what I’m going to do to the stinking traitor when I find him. Is that clear?”