CHAPTER 27

It’s been fourteen days since I walked out of med bay, grateful for my second chance. But I’m now arguing with March over how I’m allowed to use it.

Currently, he’s working on training pilots and jumpers in the old style, making them combat-ready. And I want in. I’ll be damned if I let him go off to war with anyone else in the cockpit beside him. I got enough of not knowing whether he lived or died when we left him on Lachion. It’s not happening again.

“Who would make a better combat jumper than me?” I demand. “I have actual experience, unlike the rest you have in there.”

“Absolutely not,” he says. “Who knows how the nanites will interact with Doc’s implant? He hasn’t even perfected it yet, so you shouldn’t be jumping. Plus, you already have the chip Vel put in you. If—”

Right now, I have more experimental technology in me than any other human: Evelyn’s nanites and Vel’s linguistic chip. And I’ll add more as soon as Doc gives me the word that he’s come up with an implant that can regulate my grimspace repair system.

“Anything goes wrong, or they affect each other in unforeseen ways, I’m totally fragged. Thanks for the reminder. How can you not see I can’t let that dictate the way I live? If I stop being who I am because of this, I may as well be dead.”

I fold my arms, knowing I’m delaying the start of the class. Doc has undertaken the gene-therapy course to ready Argus for active duty, using my DNA, mingled with that of Baby-Z. If this works, Argus will be the next generation of jumper: my healing mutation, coupled with Baby-Z’s resistance to burnout. He’s since run extensive tests that confirm the theory he posited, based on preliminary Fugitive data.

That means the Dahlgren whelp has been accepted into the program already while I stand in the hall, arguing with Commander March, who doesn’t feel like my lover right now. He’s wearing his “in charge” face, and it looks like nothing I can say will sway him.

Except, maybe, this.

“Are you truly speaking as commander?” I ask him quietly. “Who puts the mission first? Because I don’t think you can afford to turn away any able-bodied jumper at this point. If I jump with you, it frees someone else up. We need all the ships we can muster.”

His jaw tightens. “Doc really thinks he has your implant ready to go?”

“It’s untested . . . but when has that ever stopped me?” This will make my third piece of experimental tech. Soon I’ll be adding laser cannons to my chest and upgrading to a shiny metal chassis.

Warmth indicates he’s read me, and now March wears a look of abject horror. “Mary, I hope not. That’s not funny.”

“So I’m a go.”

I don’t wait for his answer, just push past him into the training room, where everyone else is gathered.

“You won’t go out on patrol until you have the implant!” he calls after me. “I stand firm on that point.”

Since I’m none too eager to repeat the experience of being held hostage in my own flesh, I’m fine with that condition. There are eleven other navigators in the training room, including Koratati. I can only imagine what Surge had to say about the mother of his child joining the Armada. Though he’s a licensed pilot, he opted to stay on station with Siri, which I think makes sense. But it can’t be easy to see his woman stride into danger without him. At least I’ll be beside March every step of the way this time.

Constance is teaching the academic portion of the class. She’s reviewed all the old manuals, all the subject matter that was once conveyed to combat jumpers as a matter of course, before the Axis Wars, before Farwan stepped into the void and assumed control. They, of course, disbanded the corps and stratified everything so the left hand never knew what the right was doing.

Unlike the rest of the jumpers, I’m not shocked to find a hologram giving our lessons. It makes sense from a time-allocation standpoint. Who can learn and present new information faster than an AI?

We spend weeks learning old patterns and formations. Drill myself on the information until I can recite it in my sleep. March pokes me awake some nights because apparently I’m doing precisely that. We have to be ready for anything: ready to assume command of the ship, ready to reroute weapons to the cockpit. Navigators used to be more versatile than we are now. Farwan turned us into one-trick wonders, content to rest upon our genetic laurels.

This includes a physical component, too. In addition to our classroom time, we spend hours in the workout room, practicing our hand-to-hand. In case our vessel is boarded, we’re not just jumpers—we’re soldiers, and this is war.

March comes to check up on us periodically. I’m sparring when he pops in this time, thankfully not with Koratati. We all draw lots on a daily basis to see who will go round with her; because of her greater size and strength, she beats the rest of us too easily for it to be a fair assessment of our skills. I’m up against a jumper named Sirius, who, despite what his name would imply, is quite a joker in the usual course.

I block one of his blows with my forearm. It’s a solid hit, and it’ll leave a mark, but I don’t let the pain distract me. Since I know he leads with his right, I sweep his left leg and take him down, but I’m too slight to control him with my weight. My best hope lies in being faster and smarter. Since that’s the way I fought even before I had this training, the experience benefits me considerably.

Instead of singling me out, he merely walks among us, inspecting the troops. March offers a comment or criticism here and there, telling a fighter where he can improve. When he stops at our mat, he says, “Keep yourself centered, Jax,” then moves on.

What does that mean, exactly? Oh, yes. Women generally have a lower center of gravity than men. In a moment, I know how I can use that. I combine an arm twist with a sweep, and soon I have Sirius at my mercy. If he struggles, I’ll pop his shoulder out of its socket; this is a lovely hold that offers excruciating pain in exchange for little harm.

Constance names the winners: “Jax, Michelin, Koratati, Wells, Jory, Finbar.”

We each take a bow, knowing it’ll come out different tomorrow. After we finish sparring, we begin our cooldown, light exercise designed to enhance stamina and overall fitness. I haven’t felt this strong in ages. Constance watches over us, monitoring our vitals to make sure nobody is pushing too hard.

Later, there will be weapons practice. I had no idea the training would be so complex, but I’m glad for it. I’m starting to feel downright dangerous. All the drilling contributes to a sense of battle-readiness, of course, so we don’t panic when our ship is being blown to bits around us.

I try not to think about that.

 

 

Evelyn has adapted well.

I stop by to check on her and find her in the lab. “How are things?”

She pauses in her work to smile at me. There are haunted depths in her dark eyes, but she looks better than she did when we found her on Perlas. “Good. I love working with Saul. He’s brilliant.”

“The way I hear it told, so are you.”

“Well, we make a great team. We’re working with Dina on a biomechanical matrix to make the connection between phase drive and nav com.”

I perk up. “The one that lets the Morgut do direct jumps?”

She confirms with a nod. “That’s the one.”

“Are you close?” This could make the difference for the war effort. I hate that we’ve bumped it ahead of Loras in the queue, but it’s vital.

“I think we might be. But close doesn’t mean much in terms of research. Close could be two days or four years.”

“I understand. There’s no guarantee.”

Evelyn sets her hands on the counter, perfectly at home in Doc’s world. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s a joy as a partner: clever, intuitive, methodical.”

Oh, shit. She’s . . . glowing. Listing his accolades like that, you’d think she was saying he’s the man of her dreams. But maybe it’s just the pleasure of working with someone who understands everything she says.

“He’s a smart guy,” I agree. “Keep me posted, will you? If you perfect the biomechanical matrix, we’ll need it installed on all armada ships.”

“Absolutely.”

I step out into the hall. These days, I only have a little free time after my long day of training is done. I intended to find March and spend it with him. Though I don’t yet have the same foreboding I knew on Lachion, I’m not altogether at ease with him going to war once more. The wounds are still fresh, and I’m afraid for him. Killing men up close and personal has been disastrous for him in the past, like on Nicuan, and again on Lachion. My one consolation is that we’ll be engaged in space battles, which may safeguard him somewhat. Regardless, I want to curl up with him for a little while and pretend the rest of the universe doesn’t exist.

On the way, I run into Dina, who’s wearing a look that says she wants something. That never bodes well. I listen to her request with a raised brow, then I sigh. I don’t want to look at more of her schematics. If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a thousand times, I can’t tell whether she’s figured out the design flaw just by looking. Tiredly, I extend a hand for the blasted unit, but she shakes her head.

“I’m sure enough of this mod that I actually incorporated it into the Triumph,” she tells me. “So I want you to come out with me and check it out.”

She’s less cautious than Doc and Evelyn. As scientists, they run countless simulations before they even think of creating a working prototype. Since Dina comes at this from a mechanical standpoint, she prefers trial and error, and so she’s taken all the collective data and started building.

“There’s no way March will approve that. I’m not cleared to leave the station.”

“Then we won’t tell him.”

I sigh, regarding Dina with exasperation. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly,” she confirms.

A jolt of horror runs through me. “You’re asking me to field-test your design.”

“Why not?” she asks blithely. “You’ve got enough experimental tech in you now to be designated as top-tier classified and hidden away from public sight forever.”

She has me there. To my disgust, I find myself considering it. I should be able to validate her theory without jumping. Once I jack in, I’ll be able to see if the necessary connection has been made.

But I made one final objection. “We need a pilot willing—”

“Hit’s already on board.”

Of course she is. Because March and Hon would confine both of us to quarters if they found out we were considering this. I know we need every advantage once we’re on patrol, however. The Morgut can appear anywhere they like, and right now, we’re limited to jumping through known zones, where the cations gather. That means they’ll be faster and more mobile, and the fight may be over by the time we arrive to aid a ship in distress.

“Then let’s go.”

There’s a faintly surreptitious air to our progress since we don’t want to encounter anyone who might inquire what we’re doing. As luck would have it, we reach the hangar quietly, and I board the Triumph. It’s the biggest ship in our Armada currently, and Dina has been rigging the armaments accordingly. Though it was originally intended as a merchant’s yacht, she’s upgraded it considerably.

I find Hit waiting in the cockpit. She flashes me a white, toothy grin. “So she talked you into it? I swear you’re crazier than she is.”

“I’m not taking bets,” I mutter. “Let’s get this over with.”

Sprawling in the nav chair, I admire her graceful way with the ship. Dina’s in engineering, but connected via the comm. “Are we good? I can override the docking controls from here.”

“You’ve been planning this,” I note.

“Too right.” I can hear the grin in her voice, but Surge won’t be amused. Whatever she’s done better not compromise station security, or there will be hell to pay.

“We’re gone in thirty seconds,” Hit cuts in. The tall pilot is all business, focused on her task. When we swoop out of the hangar, it’s graceful as a bird in flight.

“We only need to go a short way out,” I say then. “Make sure the station’s gravitational field doesn’t interfere with our instruments.”

In a good, fast ship like this, that doesn’t take long at all. The stars are so bright through the view screen, they almost blind me, constellations I could never have imagined from New Terra. I remember staring up at them from Wickville, lying in Sebastian’s arms, and thinking, One day . . .

That day has come, and I can’t regret the choices that brought me here within visual range of white-dwarf spirals and the variegated colors of cosmic clouds, older stars glowing gold and the newer ones gleaming blue-white. The loveliness here rivals grimspace.

“I’m powering up the phase drive,” Hit tells Dina. Then to me: “Are you ready?”

Not by half, but this doesn’t have to kill me or boil my blood inside my veins. We’re not even going to jump. Mary, I never thought I’d need to give myself a pep talk before jacking in.

“Hold!” the mechanic shouts. “I’ve got a ship on sensors, and it’s coming in hot.”

Beside me, Hit scrambles, tapping a succession of panels until we, too, share the image. The crazy part is, it’s not hauling fast toward us in straight space. The ship flickers, both here and not here. We couldn’t fire on it if we wanted to right now. We’ve stumbled upon a jump in progress, and since we’re as far from a known jump zone as we can possibly be, this can only be—

“Morgut.” Hit bites off the word like a curse. “Dina, love, get our weapons up. Divert power from the phase drive and split it between cannons and shields.”

“On it.” There’s a reason this ship has engineering adjacent to the gunnery.

Thanks to my combat training, I know what to do. Calm descends over me, and I lean in, daring what I never would’ve before. Coolly, I reroute the lasers to the cockpit, knowing Dina can’t handle both at the same time. The targeting apparatus descends from a compartment in the ceiling, another excellent Dina-mod. Mentally, I thank her while the lasers cycle to readiness. With any luck, given that we came upon them before they were fully acclimated to straight space, we’ll be battle-ready first.

“It’s a scout ship,” Hit reports.

She’s left the comm open, so we can coordinate freely with Dina. I say, “We can’t let them get away. They may not have bounced a message to their fleet yet. There’s no telling whether they’re investigating a rumor or looking for a place to nest.”

“Regardless, we can’t let them carry word about us,” Dina says grimly.

She’s right. If this vessel slips away to give warning, we’ll wind up with more of them here than we can defend against. If they take out our mustered ships, then the war’s already lost before it’s truly begun.

A new voice pops up on the comm, relayed from the station. March. “What the frag are you doing, Triumph? Who’s at the helm? I didn’t give clearance for a pleasure cruise.”

“Can’t talk, Commander,” Hit answers smoothly. “We’re busy saving your ass.”

Oh, that’ll go over smooth as s-silk, but I can’t worry about him now. The Morgut vessel is coming about, readying to fire. Our sensors monitor their progress, and Mary help us, their weapons are faster, 65 percent and climbing. They must travel at half power all the time.

“Aim for their phase drive,” Dina orders. “Relaying target coordinates to your apparatus, Jax.” Her cannons let fly, fiercely red in the darkness.

At last, my lasers are ready to go, less impact, but I can fire more often. I adjust the targeting array more comfortably, take aim according to the location she’s provided, and open up. Within the ship, even one this size, I hear the whine of the lasers as they heat up. Outside in vacuum, there will be nothing but silence.

We hit shields first, but they’re weakening already with the way we’re concentrating our fire. At this distance and on a ship so fast and sleek, the rail gun might do some good, but we don’t have anyone to operate it. Unless—

“Dina, is there anyone on board who can—”

“Already on it,” she answers briefly.

Then the antipersonnel weapons come online. Bless those crazy, savage clansmen. If there’s one thing they know how to do, it’s fight, and doing it in space probably just adds a little bit of spice.

“Argus Dahlgren, reporting for duty.”

Bless the kid. He has my DNA running through his veins, and now he’s about to become the second veteran combat jumper. “Welcome aboard. Blow a hole in those sons of bitches, will you?”

“Taking evasive action,” Hit says suddenly, “so hold tight.”

Oh, Mary, they’re returning fire. There’s something less magical about having weapons turned on you, but the exhilaration doesn’t lessen. All of us must be crazy because I hear whooping from gunnery as Hit slings and rolls, performing impossible feats of reflex and agility.

And from that moment on, it’s like nothing can touch us. Argus weights the fight in our favor. Their shields don’t block projectiles and one of his shots goes clean through the hull. Once they have breach, their shields fall completely, and we first blow out their phase drive, then their engines; then Dina’s cannons smash the ship to bits.

“No quarter,” Hit says, studying the wreckage on-screen.

“None,” I agree. “Do we have any power left to test your mod?”

Dina’s answer comes slowly. “Just. We won’t have enough to jump, but I think I can get it to cycle up.”

“Go for it. I kind of doubt March is going to let us back out here anytime soon.”

Hit laughs. “Yeah, we’re in trouble, no doubt.”

“If we hadn’t been out there,” Argus says, tentative, “they’d have succeeded in gathering intel if nothing else.”

I nod. “We’d have been in deep shit. This was a lucky break for us.”

“We were due one,” Dina points out.

The phase drive hums as it powers up, not enough for a jump as Dina said, but I jack in, riding the adrenaline from the fight. Unfortunately, the phase drive and the nav computer still aren’t linking just right; the web array isn’t complete, so it’s not a win for a direct jump. To access grimspace in this ship would still require me as conduit, and it nearly burned out my brain last time. The best analogy I can offer: The cations pass from my bloodstream through the shunt in my wrist and let the phase drive open a corridor to grimspace. But that carries too high a price. I won’t be doing that again on purpose unless it’s a life-or-death situation. Dina has to fix this.

“Sorry,” I tell the mechanic. “Close, but not a go. Keep trying. We need that innovation to have any hope of keeping up with the Morgut ships.”

“No pressure,” she grumbles.

Then Hit takes us back to Emry, where the commander’s waiting for us.