CHAPTER 5

I’m halfway across when I hear the snap behind me.

Mary help me, the other ship has gone into a dead roll, tearing away from the tube. That end flails in open space and pressure closes in on me from all sides. I don’t have the strength or the traction to make it up the rest of the way. Despite the patch, the oxygen isn’t flowing through my blood anymore. I have ten seconds before the lights go out.

Something latches onto my waist, but I can’t see anymore.

The next thing I know, I’m aboard the ship, with everyone clustered around me. My breath comes in hard, choking gasps, and stars fill my vision. Doc is working on me while Dina barks orders about jettisoning the tube and unlocking the tow cables.

“Vitals returning to normal,” Doc says at length. “I think we got her out in time.”

“What happened?”

“March went back for you,” Vel says.

Dina adds, “And I went for him.”

“And I went out for her,” Hit finishes.

There’s something sweet, if suicidal, in this. We’re bound by chains of love, but they don’t weigh us down. Instead, they allow us to be bigger and better than we are.

“We joined hands,” Doc says. “Vel and I stood anchor here, and we pulled you up.”

Mary curse it, I feel tears rising in my eyes. I didn’t mean to endanger anyone else. I didn’t realize they’d risk everything for me. I mean, I suspected March would, but not the rest of them. It makes me rethink my ideas of friendship. Is it truly being willing to die for someone else? Is that the high-water mark?

I struggle into a sitting position and find I can’t see March because he’s at my head. He draws me back against him, and I feel him trembling—not so anyone else would notice, but in his arms, I feel it. He puts his face against my hair and still says nothing. I’m a little alarmed by that.

Someone has summoned Rose—Doc’s lover from Lachion—to take charge of the children, and they follow her out of the bay without question. The others disperse one by one with a little pat or a word of encouragement. Eventually, it’s just me, March, and Doc, putting away his implements.

“You’ll be fine, Jax. Just take it easy for a few days. And stay out of the simulator.”

I start guiltily because that was the first thing I meant to do. “Fine.”

Then Doc takes his leave as well, probably to help Rose with the kids. I wonder if they’ve ever considered having a big family. I’m guessing not. As I understand it, they spent long periods separated, first by his education, then by the mission he undertook with March to try to develop an alternate training program for jumpers, so they could break Farwan’s monopoly on interstellar travel. I’d hate to be in Rose’s shoes, left patiently at home, waiting for my man to return. Yet from what I can tell, she appears to adore him, and I guess that means doing whatever it takes to be with him. Mary knows, she left her home and went out into the stars, just to stay close. I imagine her saying to him, You’re not leaving me behind again.

The silence spreads into subtle discomfort. At last he says, “Is that what it’s like, living with me?”

Wow, I didn’t see that coming. I answer cautiously, “Did you think I was trying to teach you some kind of lesson?”

Behind me, he shakes his head. I can’t see his face, which is frustrating, but he won’t loosen his arms around me enough to let me turn. “No. I think you’ve just changed for the better, but . . . it’s going to kill me if you make a habit of it.”

I get it now. Nobility and self-sacrifice sound wonderful in theory, but now he’s seen how it feels. A dead hero is still dead at the end of the day, and you’re still alone.

Gently, I run a hand along his thigh. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“You guys saved me. It worked out. And we got every one of those kids back here safe and sound.” Which might not have happened if we’d done it any other way.

“That’s the worst of it,” he mutters. “You did the right thing, and I hate it.”

“Because I might do it again?” How funny, he’s chiding me indirectly for developing a moral compass.

“Oh, you’ll definitely do it again.” March sounds utterly wretched.

“Thing is,” I say softly, “so will you. There are no guarantees.”

“I can’t even yell at you about it because you’re the smallest and lightest. It made sense for you to go last.”

“I know. That’s why I volunteered.” I pause, thinking about what happened. “If it had been anyone else, the tube might’ve given way sooner. No hope of rescue.”

A long breath puffs into my hair. “And that’s why I didn’t protest.”

“Done is done,” I murmur. “Just . . . love me, and let tomorrow look after itself.”

“I can do that,” he whispers.

He permits me to turn then, and I wrap my arms around his neck. March kisses me with a delicacy and heat that work their way into my nervous system. His hair spills against my cheeks, too soft for such a hard man. If he knew how rakish it makes him look, I’m sure he would shave it off.

“Thanks for saving me.”

His mouth brushes my jaw. “Didn’t I promise?”

“You did.” I can’t help but smile over the rarity of a man who keeps his word. And he’s mine. “Can we go now? It’s a little chilly in here.”

March murmurs an assent and swings me into his arms. Soon I’m not cold at all.

In the days that follow, I find people treat me differently. It’s a subtle distinction, but I’m not sure what to make of it. Eventually it dawns on me—most of them call me Sirantha now, as Vel does. I’m a person to them at last, not Jax the nav-star. Only March still calls me Jax, but spoken in his deep voice, it becomes an endearment.

It’s been so long since I jumped that thinking of it evokes a toe-curling ache. I want it more than sex and food combined, almost more than I want to breathe. To combat the feeling, I throw myself into training with Argus.

Even though I know it isn’t real, the simulator offers a panacea for what ails me. Argus shows up early every time. I head for the training room at 0900, and find him already there. He occupies his chair with eager impatience. While I was resting from the rescue mission, the shunt in his wrist has had time to heal properly.

“You ready to do this?”

“I’d rather jump for real, but I guess I have to start somewhere.”

With some effort, I control my smile. “Got that right. Jack in, and we’ll begin.”

“Right.”

The world fades into an imitative swirl of color. It’s as much like real grimspace as anything can be, but if you’ve been there for real, the sim leaves you a little hungry. Nonetheless, it’s a convincing enough replica for our purposes.

I give him a few seconds to acclimate to the inundation of the senses. Find the nearest beacon for me.

Argus responds well to having me in his head. No overt shock. He has a strong, impetuous mind, teeming with ideas that skitter like schools of fish. With some effort, he stills his thoughts—good, it takes some jumpers ages to learn that trick—and then focuses. Argus has a harder time with distance here; all normal measures are relative. What is “close” in grimspace?

How do I know? Wouldn’t that be dictated by our destination?

Yes, I answer. That’s your first lesson . . . There is no distance in grimspace. We have no equipment to measure it. Everything is predicated upon the goal in straight space.

Shouldn’t you have given me a route, then?

In time. For now, just take me to a beacon. Any of them. Your choice.

The simulator acts in lieu of a pilot, following Argus’s directives. Soon he’s delivered us smoothly to a beacon in the Outskirts. I’ve made this jump fairly often, as it’s the one nearest to Gehenna. Colors swim all around us, seemingly in response to the beacon’s pulse. In true grimspace, I don’t notice that as much, overwhelmed by the sweetness and the seduction of the far horizon.

Minutes trickle into hours as he practices. Every now and then I correct his course, show him where he went wrong. The sim-pilot logs it all, and we’ll deconstruct it later. Eventually, I call a halt to the day’s work. He’ll be shocked to find his body weak and shaky when he unplugs. Even in the virtual world, grimspace takes its toll.

Argus surprises me with his compliance. Once we’re both out of the sim, I shut it down. He actually salutes me. “I’m honored to be studying with you, ma’am.”

I don’t know if I’m flattered or alarmed. Just what did he see while we were both jacked in? As if he senses my confusion, a smile plays around his mouth.

I narrow my eyes. “Dismissed. Go get something to eat and report back here same time tomorrow.”

His silver-gray eyes twinkle at me. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am.”

Great, my first student is a smart-ass . . . just like me. On some level, I know this serves me right.

I resign myself to a long, rocky apprenticeship.

.CLASSIFIED-TRANSMISSION.

.ACCEPTANCE.

.FROM-EDUN_LEVITER.

.TO-SUNI_TARN.

. ENCRYPT-DESTR UCT-ENABLED.

Chancellor Tarn,

After careful consideration, I’ve decided to accept your offer of employment. I will arrive on New Terra shortly. At that time, we will need to negotiate terms, as I am sure you understand the sole right to my expertise does not come cheap.

There are a few codicils to my agreement. One: My true function can never be revealed in this administration. You may call my position whatever you desire, so long as it doesn’t reflect my real purpose. I will provide a certain amount of busywork to prevent any of your colleagues from putting the pieces together. Let them think my job results from governmental bloat. Two: You will immediately destroy all classified communications from me. Three: You will create a convincing alias. Certain factions would recognize my real name, and accomplishing anything on New Terra thereafter would become problematic. Four: You will comply with my suggestions, rare though they may be. I don’t appreciate anyone wasting my time, not even you. Five: You will not inquire into the business of my past employers. If anything has bearing on our situation, I will volunteer the information. Otherwise, confidentiality must be maintained. If you can accept these conditions, then you may consider we have a deal.

As a gesture of good faith, I am attaching my findings regarding raider activity in Delta Tau. You’ll find ship numbers and losses, along with a dossier of names and their likely whereabouts and known associates. This intelligence took me years to gather, which I have done for purposes I will not reveal to you. If you find it helpful, understand it is only the tip of that which I can offer you.

Do not mistake me: You will not win this war without my help. I trust you will take that into consideration when we negotiate my salary.

That said, I look forward to working with you.

Edun Leviter

.ATTACHMENT-RAIDER_INTEL-FOLLOWS.

.END-TRANSMISSION.

. COPY-ATTACHMENT.

.FILES-DOWNLOADED.

. ACTIVATE-WORM : Y/N ?

.Y.

.TRANSMISSION-DESTROYED.