The Key Read Online Free

noticed him looking.
    “Nine mil, for close shooting.”
    She held up the larger weapon.
    “And this is a P-90 for the distance shots.”
    She checked it the way she had the nine mil, then set it down beside her, as she knelt by her scattered belongings. She stowed most of it back in the pack, including her outer suit, but he noticed she put a few more of the magazines in her pockets.
    She looked up at him. “We probably won’t be coming back here, so you should get your stuff together—if you want a lift off this rock? You do, don’t you?”
    He looked at her warily.
    “I know you’ll miss the food and these charming digs, but try to buck up.” She grinned again.
    He had to grin back. “Not much to take with me.”
    Most of his gear had been destroyed when his ship caught fire. He’d been lucky to get himself out.
    She couldn’t be right about help coming, but she was hard to resist. There was something basically upbeat about her, a resilience that impressed him—even if he didn’t understand more than half of what she said.
    “So, what’s the plan?”
    Plan? There was a plan?
    “I was thinking we should do some recon. Are they likely to be covert? Or do the gomers like to strut around being big and bad?”
    He sorted through this. “Probably covert.”
    “Well, since you know the terrain—and where we’re going—you should take point and I’ll get your six.”
    “My six?”
    “I’ll follow you? Watch your back? Clock? Twelve o’clock at the top, six at the bottom.” She tipped her head to the side. “Odd that we seem to have a similar language, but different stuff, too. Is your language pretty common around here?”
    “Some worlds have their own language, but they also speak the Common language.” She was right, though. It was strange.
    “Interesting.” She looked at him for a moment longer. “We should figure out some hand signals.”
    He blinked a couple of times. Hand signals? She didn’t seem to notice.
    “Usually we do this when we need to stop and be quiet.” She held her fist up at a right angle to her body. “How many Dusan are we likely to be dealing with?”
    Fyn shrugged. “For a small craft, they’ll send a scout ship, between five and six?” He hesitated. “Even when they use stun, their weapons can kill.”
    “Okay. Don’t get shot. Anything else?”
    “They’ll have two positions, overlooking your ship. We’ll need to hit them at the same time. If they get a chance to send a warning, more will come.”
    Did she understand what he was telling her?
    Her mouth thinned and her eyes narrowed. “So, we make them go away.”
    He hoped that meant kill them.
    She showed him some more signals and then she pulled out a hat of the same mottled material as her clothing and put it on her head. She tucked her hair up out of sight. Next she picked up a small round box. She opened it. The contents looked dark and sticky. She proceeded to rub it on her skin.
    “Did I miss anywhere?” she asked. She did a half turn, so he could see the back of her neck.
    He pointed to his temple, fascinated by how efficiently she prepared herself for battle. She was obviously well trained. Was that part of what made her different?
    “Oh, right.” She smeared the brown stuff on the dressing covering her head wound. “How long until it’s light?”
    “Not long.”
    When everything was stowed but a small rectangular box, she picked it up and turned a knob on the top. It emitted a crackle. Maybe she saw him looking at it, because she said, “Radio. For communication.”
    He’d had something similar in his craft, though not so…portable. A useful innovation.
    She listened for a moment, then pressed the side, stopping the crackle and spoke into it.
    “Home plate, this is outfield5. Do you copy?” Only crackling silence. “Come in, home plate.”
    Again, no response.
    With a slight sigh, she stowed this in a pocket, too, one near her face. “No joy. The cave might be blocking the