CHAPTER 29

Our training is complete, and the patrols have been divided up.

Only two things remain before we can all ship out, going our separate ways in a galaxy become so dangerous that Chancellor Tarn has declared a state of martial law, and he has a scruffy lot of former smugglers and thieves to enforce said law.

Over one task, I have no control. I can’t say when Doc and Evelyn will have my implant ready to go, the one that’ll turn the Triumph into the Conglomerate’s secret weapon. Part of me thinks I already have enough alien tech in my head, but I won’t say no. If there’s any chance it’ll give us the edge we need out there, I’d be a fool to refuse.

I’m about to take care of the other duty right now, as I promised March days ago that I’d speak to Vel. I don’t look forward to the conversation. I don’t want to lose my protector, my bounty hunter; I feel safer knowing he’s nearby, but these times preclude self-indulgence.

I touch my communicator. “Constance, locate Vel for me.”

“Searching.” After a brief delay, she tells me, “He is assisting Dina in engineering.”

“Thanks.”

It takes a good ten minutes to make my way from the station back to the Triumph. For a moment, I stand in the doorway and watch them work. A week or so back, she brought Vel into her efforts to make that missing connection between the phase drive and the nav computer, knowing he’s a wizard with machines. In conjunction with Doc and Evelyn, maybe they’ll succeed, though it seems like a long shot.

“How’s it going?” I ask.

Dina sighs, straightening. Her fair hair clings to her forehead, sweat trailing down the right side of her face. “Slow. But I think we’re on the right track. I’m integrating some data Ev and Doc put together. They’ve done some interesting work in linking nanoprotein strings to a biomechanical processor.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

Dina explains, “It’s the first step toward connecting the nav com to the phase drive, so the phase drive fires outside known jump zones.”

“That’ll offer a way for the phase drive to detect grimspace from anywhere.” That much I understand.

If I’m present, the cations in my blood make the connection because I have tiny bits of grimspace running through me. We need to find a way to make that happen through the ship, not the jumper. The course of gene therapy Doc designed for Argus imbues my regenerative mutation without the extras; we don’t want to pass grimspace particles along without understanding their long-term effects. Argus was our first test subject, and it may be years before we know what we’ve done to him. Overall, I’d feel better if we could solve this through tech and not wholesale genetic manipulation.

“Can other mechanics learn to modify their ships once you perfect the design?”

“Sure,” she answers, “but it won’t do any good unless their jumpers have undergone extensive gene therapy.”

I consider that. If—no, when—that happens, I won’t be one in a million anymore. That prospect offers the promise of peace because what I do won’t matter so much if others can do it, too.

“Good to know. Could I borrow Vel for a bit?” It’s only a courtesy to check with her. He’s not her employee or her assistant.

She shrugs. “Ask him.”

He pauses his work and comes toward me. I haven’t seen him often during the course of my training, either. Not since I left the sickroom. Vel pauses to assess me. “You are harder,” he says, after a brief inspection. “More fit. Stronger, too.”

“Constance worked us to the bone.”

“It was well-done. What did you want to discuss, Sirantha?”

“Walk with me,” I tell him.

Our steps carry us out into the corridor and toward the quarters I share with March. He won’t be there; he’s in the commander’s ready room, finalizing our strategies. No more than forty-eight hours remain before we ship out. My next and last stop will be med bay.

I make sure the door closes behind us before broaching the subject. It’s not that I think he’ll react badly to the request, but I’m afraid I might get emotional. It’s not like me, I know, but this feels like a more permanent good-bye than I want.

“Commander March has asked me to speak with you on behalf of the Conglomerate. Chancellor Tarn has appointed a new ambassador, a permanent one, and he needs your help to finalize matters on Ithiss-Tor. They want you to serve as a cultural liaison, ensure that everything goes smoothly, and oversee the election of a representative, whom your vessel will transport to the summit on New Terra.”

“Like before,” he observes. “Except without you?”

“I’m not an ambassador anymore,” I say softly. “Not that I was ever much of one.”

“You were . . . perfect.” Belatedly, I realize he’s not using his vocalizer. Interpreting the sounds of his native language has become so instinctive that I didn’t even notice the lack of human speech.

“It’s very kind of you to say.” I hasten on, knowing I won’t be able to keep myself calm for much longer. I feel like I’m losing my best friend, as if I’ll never see him again. “I can’t force you to accept this assignment, of course. You’re a free agent, here with us of your own volition.”

That has to be the most mixed message I’ve ever delivered. The dutiful part of me knows he must go; the rest of me thinks something dreadful will happen to me if he does. Since he stopped hunting me and began protecting me, I’ve felt . . . safe.

“What do you think I should do?”

Oh, why did he ask me? If he were March, he’d have heard the immediate answer inside my head: Stay. But I manage not to say the word aloud. “I think the new ambassador will need you. The Conglomerate needs you.”

I need you. But what do my needs matter? If we don’t make use of every resource, every alliance, there will be nothing left. Humanity has engaged in the deadliest fight for our lives since we first stepped forth into the stars.

I remember how he promised he wouldn’t serve another ambassador if I were fired. But times are different now, and I wasn’t fired; I resigned. I don’t want to return to that life. Here, now, I’m doing what I’m best suited for. So must he.

His clicks convey duty rather than desire. “Then I shall serve.”

I coil dignity around myself like a cloak. If he were human, I’d long since have thrown myself into his arms and wept over the prospect of parting. Since he is not, I’m bewildered about how to deal with the impending loss.

“Chancellor Tarn will be relieved to hear it. Your ship is scheduled to depart tomorrow. You’ll pick up the ambassador, then proceed directly to Ithiss-Tor.”

“I thought never to return.”

“I know. I hope it doesn’t go badly for you.”

He spreads his claws in a gesture that says it doesn’t matter. “It always goes badly. I am a bitter reminder of profound failure.”

“That’s not true,” I say at once.

“By their standard, it is. Fortunately I no longer measure myself by their standards.”

“So it won’t hurt you to return?” I’m glad of that if it’s true.

The sight of his naked chitin offers me no offense. Vel is smooth, gleaming with high shine. In my opinion, the clean lines look better than the acid-etched markings his people wear as a sign of rank.

“Other things have the power to do me injury now,” he answers obliquely.

To my surprise, Vel etches a particularly eloquent wa. Though it’s been some while, the nuances don’t escape me. The chip in my head offers his silent words, inflections that delve deep into my heart: Brown bird glows with grace, and though flight carries her far, white wave waits, always, on the shore.

Tears spring up in my eyes, but I hold myself with great ceremony, angling my body in reply. White wave ebbs, his memory dearer than a diamond in a bed of sand. Brown bird watches, her wings stilled. Her song is silent until he returns.

Did I get the gestures right? For an interminable moment, he studies me. Perhaps I am rusty, and my body language offered other meanings, nonsensical ones, and he doesn’t know how to respond to my gibberish.

“You have an Ithtorian spirit,” he says at last. “That was well-done. You make me feel at home, Sirantha.”

How odd. I would’ve said he has a human soul. Perhaps between us, between his long exile and the alien chip in my head, we’ve met somewhere in the middle.

I manage a smile, though my eyes are stinging. “I’m glad. Because you always had the knack of that for me, even in a frozen cave on the Teresengi Basin.”

I will not cry, I tell myself fiercely. I will not.

“I remember. You were never afraid of me, at least not after the first few moments. I will do my best to make you proud.”

“I’m not going to say good-bye to you; but if it wouldn’t bother you, I’d like a hug.” Sometimes I can’t help being human. He’s been around us long enough that he should be used to our ways, even if he doesn’t share the comfort in our customs.

“As would I, Sirantha.”

Granted permission, I wind my arms around him and lay my cheek against the hard shell of his thorax. His limbs go around me in turn, and I feel his claws against my back. With one sharp movement, he could eviscerate me. His mandible rests against the top of my head for a long moment.

A human would offer warmth. I could listen to his heartbeat. Still, this is Vel, and there’s solace in his proximity. I don’t know how long we stand there, but I ease back first.

His final wa gains shadings of some significance I can’t name. There are no partings. White wave flows away. Brown bird is faithful to the sky. Where sea and sky cross, we meet again.

It’s a riddle, but the answer gives me a shiver of foreboding. The horizon, the door that isn’t a door. Is he saying we’ll meet again in death?

Sorrow has driven out any eloquence I might offer in answer. My wa is bare, a skeletal thing. My elbows won’t do as I’ve asked, and I suspect I said something slightly impolite. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Though these are my quarters, I flee first. He won’t follow me. I won’t see him again before he ships out. I’ll be in med bay, sedated for minor surgery. It’s time to get that third experimental implant. That’s good; maybe it can take the edge off my inward ache. And maybe when I wake, I’ll be resigned to being the Conglomerate’s secret weapon, resigned to less humanity, more technology.

I touch my comm. “Doc? No more excuses on my end. If you and Evelyn are ready, I’m on my way.”