Girl Gone Nova (22 page)

Interesting that the woman had also managed to alienate Bana in the passing of a single night. Vidor felt frustration spike again. He waited until the woman emerged and stalked over to her.

“Why won’t you eat?” He fought an urge to call her Morticia. In a way, the name suited her. She was unusual, it was unusual.

“That sludge stuff is seriously nasty.”

Yes, it was, but, “It contains nutrients necessary to sustain life.”

“Only a life not worth living.”

She tipped her head to the side and studied him in a way that made him shift uneasily.

“So are you all vegetarians? Have religious problems with meat? Lousy at hunting and gathering?”

“Hunting and gathering?” How did she manage to shift the conversation away from herself like that?

“Where I come from, men bring home
meat
for their women.” She frowned. “And chocolate.
That
makes life worth living.”

He would prefer meat as well, but it was not possible.

“No one else complains.” That wasn’t entirely true.

“Have you
asked
them what they like?”

Asked who? The women? Why would he ask them what they liked? Bana’s words came to him, “You have much to learn about women, Vidor.” It appeared she was correct.

“If I bring you chocolate, you will tell me your name.”

He knew the tone was wrong when her brows drew together.

“You wish.”

“You
must
choose.” He leaned toward her, hoping she would understand what he was telling her.

“And if I don’t?”

He waited for a few beats of his heart, his gaze holding hers with deadly intent. “Then you will die.”

She
shrugged.

“Everyone dies.”

Frustration spiked again.

“Is that your wish? To die?” He kept his voice hard, though the thought of her death made him feel hollow inside.

“Not this minute.” She stared at him, her gaze speculative. “What if I
tried
?”

He tensed. “How do you
try
to choose?”

“I need time to get to know—” Her gaze shifted in the direction of Eamon and Cadir, “them.” Her tone lacked enthusiasm. “Maybe we could go out or something.” She looked around. “Though since we’re outside, maybe that would be a need to go in—only in somewhere better than this?”

“Out?” He didn’t like her looking at them and sought to shift her gaze back to him. It worked.

“On a date? It’s the way my people
choose
.”

Her gaze left his, returning to Cadir and Eamon again.

“They’re awfully young, but statistically women
do
live longer than men.” She sighed, tipping her head to one side.

What was she looking at?

“They’re both built. Good shoulders. Nice ass on the younger one.” She looked at him. “What’s his name again?”

“Cadir.” The word almost didn’t make it past his gritted teeth.

“So what’s your time frame?”

The question took him by surprise.

“Time frame?”

“Do I have to choose right now?”

His gaze narrowed. “You are up to something.”

“It’s called negotiating terms, Conan. You’ve given me two options, neither particularly great, by the way. I’m just trying to negotiate a better deal. It’s not unheard of in
civilized
societies.”

Her eyes were wide, her gaze clear, maybe a bit annoyed, but overall she projected an air of calm reason. He wanted to shake her again. He wanted to tell her she had no choice. She belonged to him. So far neither man had noticed her looking at them. How was that possible? It looked like she was studying Cadir’s ass again. He wanted to kick it.

“The leather is nice. And I know he’s strong as an ox.”

“He went down like one, too,” Vidor growled, deep in his throat.

“Did you say something?” Her wide-eyed gaze shifted toward him again.

He was not fooled by her air of being puzzled. Her attention started to shift again. To stop it he spoke.

“You may have two days to choose.”

Now she blinked. “Two days to choose a husband? The person I’ll be spending my nights and days with for the rest of my life?” She frowned. “This is life we’re talking about, isn’t it? Because that would change things. If the marriage lasted only a couple of weeks—”

“Of course it is for life. What else could a marriage be?”

“Which brings me back to
what the hell
? Two days to make a decision this huge?”

He gritted his teeth again. “How much time do you think you need?

She changed again. “Oh wow, that’s a tough question. I mean, a lot depends on the guy, of course. There are compatibility issues, which are already a bit iffy. I mean, we’ve got that whole, different culture thing going. And then there’s the age issue. Shared interests—”

“Shared interests.” He had to cut off the flow. It made his head hurt.

“Well, has either of them read
Harry Potter?
Because I couldn’t be happy with someone who hasn’t read
Harry Potter
.”

“You read.” He didn’t know why this surprised him. Nothing she did should surprise him.

Her eyes widened. “You mean they don’t? Oh wow, that’s a major deal breaker for me.”

“We all read.”

“
Harry Potter?”

“No. You will have to find other
shared interests
.”

“Which brings us back to the need for dates.”

“What are dates?”

“Where I come from we go out to eat or to a movie. Since those things seem to be missing in action, I guess we’d talk.”

“Talk.” He stared at her, trying to understand what she was saying.

“To each other, like we’re doing, only different.”

“How?”

“How what?” She stared at him and then blinked. Her lashes drifted down slow, rising slower.

“How would talking to them be different than talking to me?”

Her eyes widened. “For one thing, they haven’t threatened to kill me.”

He gave up resisting the urge to touch her. His finger brushed her cheek, pushing a strand of hair back. Her skin was soft as a flower petal and smooth as the finest silk. She shifted just enough to end the contact. He let his hand drop, but he felt the connection linger. “I don’t wish to kill you.”

“And I don’t wish to be here. Obviously, one of us isn’t going to get what they want.”

Frustration evaporated like mist in the sun. He smiled at her. “I always get what I want.”

He didn’t like the change that came over her. Why did his comment amuse her?

“And which one do you
want
me to choose?”

The shape of her mouth when she said the word “choose” sent warmth flooding into his body. He stepped close to her, his gaze fixed on her soft, pink lips. She started to step back, but he stopped her, his grip loose on her shoulders but able to be insistent if needed.

Her chin lifted and her mouth lost its shape and softness as it thinned with her gaze.

“You feel it, too, woman, deny it if you can.”

“The only thing I
feel
is a need for more meat in my diet and better plumbing.”

His grip on her tightened.

“You’re hurting me.” She shut down, retreated to some place inside where he couldn’t reach.

He flung his hands free of her, spun and walked away, heading for the edge of the woods. He fought it, fought turning around, but it was as if this was as far as he could get from her. She waited until he was looking and then turned to join Eamon and Cadir. They both offered her a chair, but she jumped up onto the edge of the table, her legs swinging.

“So what do you do for fun around here?”

The exterior of Hel’s ship was as scruffy and deceptive as his other identity when he used it. Both concealed more than they revealed. The exterior hid powerful engines and enhanced sensors and shields. As the trappings of a Leader fell away, Hel felt his personal power surge closer to the surface, too. He endeavored not to think about why he was doing this, focusing instead on how to accomplish his goals. In the past, this had worked for him, but in the past, he had not switched identities for a woman.

As Leader, he believed he could retrieve Delilah and remain detached. He could spin himself useful lies about neutralizing the threat to eventual Gadi control of the outpost, but in this ship, as this man, it was not so easy. This place brought him closer to the core of his power, his passion, and brought back the past when he had last made a mistake about a woman. He did not spend time regretting past mistakes, he just hoped to learn from them and move on. All life was an education of some kind.

Here, now, he found it difficult to maintain proper prospective on the problem she posed. Did he want her because of what he believed she could do or did he want her for himself?

This was a question that needed answering before he brought her on board this vessel.

But he did not have to answer it right now. With relief, he shelved troubled thoughts for practical matters. His scanners were up and operating within expected parameters, as was his cloak. He saw no sign of interest in his movements from either the Earth ship or the Kikk outpost. If the unknown vessel twitched out there, he’d know about it, either through his own scans or through the ships he’d strategically placed around the galaxy.

His flagship was on course for Kikk, but not hurrying. He hoped to be back on board before it reached Kikk. No one would believe he’d stay on the ship once they reached the outpost. He’d spent some communication face time with each commander before going underground. At least eight were solid, seven could go either direction, and the two Carig had suborned? They weren’t as solid in his direction as Carig thought. They left for Gadi space without hesitation, and they didn’t contact anyone before leaving. It wasn’t totally good news. Their support was solid for the
Leader
. Most of the support wasn’t personal. He wasn’t offended. Military commanders were supposed to be loyal to the government.

Would they be as certain if a governmental transition weren’t the result of a vote of the people, but action of the counsel? Doubtful. Military commanders came from all levels of Gadi society. While they might support the ruling class in theory, in action, most would side with the Gadi people.

Hel rubbed the stubble emerging on his chin as he plotted a course to the Quindo sector. It was off the main space lanes, but because it had good access to the frontier and trade lanes, space pirates and off-the-book traders used it as a place to buy information and trade in illegal goods. His former first commander, Hilber, called Quindo home. Like many in the galaxy, the fall of the Dusan hadn’t opened a way home, since the Dusan had made sure there was nothing to go home to. Some were the only ones of their kind left. Hilber was one of these survivors.

He had used his old Ojemba channels to arrange a meet. One didn’t arrive unannounced at Hilber’s quarters. Like all good Ojemba, he shot first, thus eliminating the need for questions. Hel trusted Hilber as much as he trusted anyone: not at all. None of the Ojemba knew Hel as the Gadi Leader, but that did not mean they wished him long life. That Hel knew
their
identities was enough to make them restive.

Quindo had the additional benefit of being close to the region where he believed the unknown kidnappers were hiding. It met the criteria he’d identified. He’d been all over the frontier and this was the sector he’d choose if he were looking for optimal concealment and maneuverability. Everyone was looking for the unknown group now, not just the
Doolittle
and the Gadi. They’d need to hit fast and then go to ground even faster. There was a higher risk of pirates discovering their presence and following them home, if they spent too long in the space lanes, even cloaked.

He’d tapped more resources to track the
Doolittle
. If it moved, his Ojemba would let him know. His men knew what to do, though they didn’t know why. Hel trusted one man and he was dead.

What would Gaedon think of this move, he wondered? He still missed his old friend and commander of the Gadi forces. His death at the end of the battle with the Dusan had been a blow Hel had yet to recover from. Gaedon had liked the Earth people from the beginning. He’d been hopeful, despite the many years of war with the Dusan. If Hel had followed his advice back then, would things be different now?

He gave serious thought to the question. He had time for it. Considering General Halliwell’s personality, Hel could see slight differences between what would have been and what was. It was certain that the Key would still have left the galaxy. He’d had to try to keep that from happening and he still hoped for a return. Even beyond the technology on the outpost, there was the issue of his peoples’ history. The outpost and its contents were their heritage, a lost part of their history. They deserved access to it. If the General followed through on his promise, then they had made a beginning, but would it last if Delilah figured out how to use the portal to secure the return of their lost people?

Was this a real outreach or a bid for time?

And would gratitude over a rescue make Delilah helpful or hostile? The way she had kissed him indicated she was open to persuasion. Still, he had underestimated the will of a woman once before. He would not make that mistake again.

* * * * *

Memo to self: don’t ask horny guys what they do for fun.

Even Eamon had managed to rise to the occasion, though the area must still be tender from its interaction with her knee. Doc didn’t let it go to her head. It was easy to be a ten when there was no competition. And she had other things to think about, like round two of yank Conan’s chain.

She wasn’t sure if the two days was a hard deadline or not, though it felt like it was. Bana had mentioned a lack of time when she thought Doc was unconscious, and her gut sensed a ticking clock, even if time seemed to have stopped in this place. No, stopped was too optimistic—something she wasn’t usually guilty of. Time had rewound, had rolled all the way back to primitive. Time had never been her friend, but it wasn’t always the enemy. It just was, just as
they
were. It was the place she lived and coped and did and until recently she’d lived without an overabundance of angst about it. No wonder she was cranky. She sighed. Whether the deadline was real or not, she’d have to act as if it was. Just like they were pretending he wanted her to choose one of the boys.