CHAPTER 14

“Is there anything else, Jax? Perhaps a cure for Jenner’s Retrovirus between now and breakfast? Would you like me to make the dead to rise again?”

Since we disperse the molecules of our dead, I know that’s sarcasm. “Are you saying you can’t do it?”

I don’t want to tell Loras he won’t even try when Saul has attempted so many other impossible things over the course of our acquaintance. If I had any skill with an imploring look, I’d employ it right now, but my face doesn’t slant that way. So I regard him steadily.

While I wait, I take in the facilities. The ship they brought from Lachion is well provisioned, and he’s set up an excellent mobile lab with machines and tools that I can’t identify. If anyone can do this, he can.

“No,” he says at last. “And since we’ve shifted away from the idea of engineering a new species, I will have the time to consider the problem.”

“That’s no longer on the table?” I ask, interested.

Doc shakes his head. “After extensive research I think it would be best to come at the problem via your mutation. If that proves efficacious, I might attempt to strengthen it with DNA strains from . . .” He pauses, his face softening. “Well, Baby-Z.”

Once, I would’ve made a joke about his planning to turn jumpers into some freakish frogman hybrid. Not now. We made Marakeq our first stop when we were gathering samples, so Doc could devise a better breed of jumper. DNA samples taken by Fugitive scientists had indicated that the genetic composition of the natives would offer a valuable longevity boost to those who possessed the J-gene. We’d only meant to take some samples ourselves; instead we wound up with a newborn hatched out of season, and our only choice had been to take him with us or let him die.

In the end, he’d died anyway—and I carry that failure close to my heart, where Baby-Z once rested. More than anything, I want to make that right.

“This can’t be high on the agenda right now, but . . . eventually, I’d like you to clone him.”

He quirks a brow at me. “If you wish to reproduce, Jax, there are easier methods.”

“Funny.” I hesitate, not knowing if he’ll understand. “I want to take him home, if we ever get the chance. Once the war is over . . .” I trail off, thinking it sounds stupid.

But in order to move on from that loss, I have to make some attempt at restitution. I know it won’t be the same, but I can’t imagine turning up on Marakeq empty-handed. And I cannot imagine what other solace I can offer his bereaved mother. Maybe it won’t be enough; maybe it’s wrong, but I don’t know what else to do.

“I understand. And yes, I can do that . . . someday.” He doesn’t mention that it’s likely to be far in the future, when all we need to worry about is reparations, not plan for the destruction of our enemies.

But I understand that very well.

“Thanks. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” I turn to go, but he stops me with a tap on my shoulder. “Jax . . . how is Loras, really?”

“He’s tired of being property.” There isn’t a lot I can do to dress that up.

“Then I’ll give his problem equal time,” he promises.

I nod in acknowledgment and step out of med bay. The ship lights have dimmed, simulating a more natural cycle, so I know it’s late. At this point, I’m not sure if I should be in my quarters on the ship or if we’ve taken a berth on station. I’m too tired to hunt March down myself, but I don’t want to go to bed without him, either. I’ve spent too many nights wishing for him by my side to let even one slip by now.

So I tap my wrist. “Constance, where’s March?”

“Searching,” she tells me. There’s a brief delay of a few seconds, then: “I have located him in the officers’ lounge on station. Shall I contact him for you?”

“No, I can do that.” Well, I could if I wanted to. I think I’ll surprise him. Looks like I have one last thing to do before I get some shut-eye.

“As you prefer, Sirantha Jax. I will return to my research now.”

There’s no end to her usefulness. Smiling, I make my way off the ship, through docking and into the corridors. Once, these halls were dark, guttering lights overhead, loose wires hanging. I remember the sickly sweet smell and the bodies. A little shiver rolls through me. Even with all the changes, it’s still hard for me to be here by myself. More images fight to the forefront of my brain.

My knees feel like they’re melting. Vel jerks me upright and gives me a shake that rattles my teeth in my head. When that doesn’t help a whole lot, he slaps me full across the face. That stings enough that I try to fight back.

And that’s when the things drop down from the ceiling.

My head spins too much to count them. When Vel knocks me flat, I have the sense to stay down, though the blow feels like it may have cracked a few ribs. Ironically, the pain clears my head to some degree.

I try to breathe through my shirt, and that helps a little, too. On my belly, I crawl along the floor, taking refuge behind a crate of machine parts. The fighting seems blurred and distant, too far away for where I’m hiding.

My vision can’t be relied upon. I hear March swearing steadily as he fires. He’s taken cover somewhere nearby. I hear the wet, splattering sound of the disruptor rearranging meat. The Morgut don’t scream when they die; they keen.

Without March, it’s harder to battle the memory back. I can still see the blood-spattered room and the monstrous Morgut with their bulging bodies and multiple hinged limbs. I’m safe, I tell myself. Safe. Now, keep moving. Officers’ lounge. I know where that is. Everyone else seems to be asleep by now or at least retired to quarters, so I don’t pass anyone as I make my way through the station. It’s eerily silent, and I find myself making a game of trying to keep my footfalls quiet. That’s why I can hear the voices long before I reach my destination.

I realize March isn’t alone. Most likely I should stride up and announce myself—that, or back away before they know I’m here. But when I hear Hon’s bass rumble in response, I decide I’m going to do neither. Instead, I slip a little closer and lean against the wall, waiting for March to answer.

“Sometimes, it’s like I think she’ll be back.”

“It’s hard,” Hon says. “Back on DuPont, I didn’t know. I would’ve said something. She was a good kid, your sister. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to Shan.”

That strikes a chord. I remember the glass dancer from Hon’s Kingdom, a woman Hon didn’t introduce me to. Though she doesn’t favor the pirate, they share the same aura of absolute confidence. It makes sense he wouldn’t want his enemies to know about her; she’s a weakness. I wonder where she is now.

March makes a wry sound. “I know. But it wasn’t like I was going to come in on a line like, ‘Be nice to me for a change; I’m bereaved.’ ”

Hon laughs. “For a change? Who mistreats who again?”

“Frankly, I figure we’re about even.”

“I guess so. You said . . .” Hon’s tone gains a delicacy I wouldn’t have credited. “You want to talk about her?”

“It’s more accurate to say I want to hear you talk about her. Tell me everything you know.” Longing fills his voice—and I understand now how he feels about Kai. Oh, it’s not the same kind of love; I understand that, but for the first time, I grasp fully that there’s a hole in him I can never completely fill.

“Well, I never took her to my bed, so there’s a limit to how accurate I can be.” I can hear the smile in the pirate’s voice.

A thwack as March hits him.

“All right, I’ll tell you a story, man. She was a pretty thing. Looked nothing like you, bless her. I remember thinking you had to be joking me when you first introduced us, that there was no way you could be related to a fair little kitty like that.”

“Don’t call my sister that,” March warns him.

“You want the story, you get my words.”

I figure they’re exchanging looks right about now, testing who’s the most serious, but in the end, March agrees, “Fine.”

“As I was saying . . . I’ll confess now, once I tried to score her, but she knew your friends, and she was having none of it.”

“You tried for my sister?” March sputters, torn between outrage and amusement that Svet shut him down.

Now I wish I’d met her. Small, fair? Does that mean blond? At any point, I could’ve called up a picture from Farwan’s records. I don’t know why I didn’t, except that perhaps until this moment, Svetlana didn’t seem quite real to me. Setting my handheld on mute, I tap a few commands and access the records via the station satellite uplink.

Within seconds, I have an image: heart-shaped face, mouth curved into a gentle smile, and eyes of a shade that wavers between blue and green. Warm, shallow seas have water like that. I can see nothing of March in her, but I know he loved her.

“After that,” Hon continues, “I made point of looking out for her whenever I was on Gehenna. I stopped by that place she worked, two or three times a trip. We got to be friends, but don’t go telling that around.”

“Of course not.”

“Most of all I remember she liked shiny things. Didn’t matter if it cost ten credits or ten thousand; she loved the sparkle. Sometimes I’d bring her back a little something, just to see that smile. No strings,” he hastened to add, doubtless forestalling March’s wrath.

March lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. I’ve got a bagful of stuff I never gave her. I kept thinking I’d surprise her, then I’d take another tour working for some Nicuan asshole. It was always going to be, ‘Just one more, and I’ll be set. I can get a ship and get Svet out of there.’ ”

My legs are aching, so I shift quietly. I hadn’t realized his guilt went quite so deep, but I should have. He blames himself for everything, even when it doesn’t make sense. Thankfully, Hon is on his game.

“You can’t beat yourself up over that. You didn’t make her turn to Farwan when she got in trouble.”

Wait, what? What trouble?

That’s exactly what March wants to know. “What’re you talking about?”

The pirate inhales sharply, and I can hear his chair rock back, a nervous shift. “I saw Svet for the last time on Gehenna, maybe five turns back. She didn’t know about our contretemps on Nicu Tertius, so she still had a smile for me.”

“And?” March demands.

“She was with child, man. I thought you knew.”