CHAPTER 22
Thus commence the longest days of
my life.
There’s nothing like
running an emergency station to make you feel like you’re alone in
the universe. At first I live in fear that another Morgut ship will
dock, and then I’m afraid New Terra will never send the promised
crew.
By day eight, I’m
genuinely worried we’ll be stuck here with dwindling supplies and a
couple of kids. Staying much longer will drive me nuts. If I wanted
this kind of life, I would’ve stayed where there’s a whole world to
move around in. I need new sights and sounds, constant change, in
order to keep from feeling twitchy, and the fact that I haven’t
jumped in weeks only exacerbates my station fever.
To make matters
worse, March insists on having the med-bot run some tests on me. I
suppose it makes sense, but nobody on board can interpret the
results, which leaves a diagnosis up to the emergency medical AI.
Maybe it’s primitive of me, but I would feel better if Doc were
here. I don’t think technology can figure out what’s wrong with
me.
Until it
does.
“Acute degenerative
bone disease of unknown origin,” the AI says. “Recommend immediate
and aggressive treatment via daily injections of vitamin D3,
calcium, and phosphorus. If underlying cause cannot be determined,
however, this regimen may provide only limited long-term
therapeutic value.”
Bone disease? Jumpers don’t die of such an old
woman’s illness. And I’m not that old.
That can’t be right.
But a few days ago,
the med-bot set the broken bones in my left hand. I’m wearing a
small brace now to keep them in place while they heal—and that
could take a while. No wonder Kora snapped my fingers like dry
twigs.
March tries to smile,
but I can tell he’s troubled. Well, that makes two of us. “Take
your medicine. I’m sure you’ll feel better in no time.”
Maybe I don’t always
eat right, but there’s no logical reason why I would come up
calcium deficient. While undeniably disgusting, nutri-paste
provides all necessary nutrients to maintain good health. And I
suck down the stuff more than I’d like to admit, so it’s not like
I’m living off cheap homebrew and sweets.
“You can’t possibly
trust that thing,” I protest. “It’s probably a hundred years old.
It’ll poison me.”
“It’s a sound
program, Jax. And that thing saved Tiera
and Vel.”
Tiera is the little
girl. She has terrible nightmares, but she took to Kora
straightaway. I hope she won’t remember much of this ordeal as she
gets older.
We found the duty
roster. Twelve souls died here, including her parents. Tiera
doesn’t seem to understand the idea that they’re gone for good.
She’s too young to learn something so painful—that sometimes people
don’t come back.
Like always, I think
of Kai. Part of me will always ache for him. A divided heart offers
a strange sensation. I love March enough to die for him, but I
still miss Kai. Is that wrong? Do other people feel like this?
Sometimes he feels agonizingly close, as if he’s watching me, as if
I could touch him. I never would have believed it possible before.
Medical science disproved it. But I’ve seen miracles in my
day.
By his taut
expression, March knows what I’m thinking, but he doesn’t say
anything. It’s impossible to lie to him, and I wouldn’t want to,
even if I could. He has to take me as I am, broken bits and
all.
“I do,” he says. “But
you’re not going to get better by ignoring the problem, and I won’t
lose you.” His voice comes out raw.
Dammit, he’s right.
Maybe the workstation itself is a bit antiquated, but the database
updates frequently via bounce uplinks. Besides, I do feel like
absolute shit. Maybe this will help.
I sigh. “Fine. I
refuse to be stupid on principle.”
“Yes,” he says, dark
eyes twinkling. “You always have impeccable reasons for acting like
an imbecile.”
Why do I put up with
his shit? I grin reluctantly. “Damn right.”
With poor grace, I
let the droid do its thing. I refuse to linger in Med Bay, though.
The bot might decide to turn me into a man.
“Mary forefend,”
March says, following me out.
I have no idea where
the others are. With two levels, it’s easy to lose track, but I
feel reasonably safe. Vel has done four purges, just to be certain,
so if there was anything left in the vents, he fried and then
spaced it.
This isn’t the first
station the Morgut have ravaged, and unless the Conglomerate pulls
its head out of its collective ass, it won’t be the last. They
don’t fear us. They see us as food, and you don’t respect something
that lets you eat it.
I stride along the
corridor toward the lift. The dull gray-green walls offer little in
the way of cheer, but nobody expects to find that here. This is a
last resort, a place nobody comes by choice. Not even the crew that
mans it.
“Where we going?” he
asks, as we step into the tube.
“Up.” I smile,
knowing he hates when I’m cryptic.
A smile begins in his
eyes and works its way down his mouth. “Private quarters are
located on the second level.”
“So they
are.”
But when we step off,
I don’t turn toward them. I’m sure he’s disappointed when I stop
outside the training room. We haven’t had sex in quite some while,
and now I hesitate. I don’t want him to see me like this, so thin
and sickly. I couldn’t bear it if desire transmuted to pity
somewhere amid the kissing.
“That would never
happen,” he assures me.
“You say that
now.”
The door slides open
to admit me, offering us free use of limited equipment. A serious
health enthusiast would be appalled, but I just want to burn off
some nervous energy. I feel trapped, as if even my skin’s too
small. I need to run until I can’t think about how much I want to
jump.
I miss the colors and
the astonishing splendor of the universe rushing through my open
mind like wildfire. My chest hurts. If I didn’t know better, I’d
call it a cardio problem, but I’ve been through withdrawal before.
It’s bad this time, and it’ll get worse. I’ve seen jumpers who opt
out devolve into screaming fits before they burn it out of their
system, before the memories fade enough to be bearable. The ones
who recover make fine teachers.
I’m sure March would
rather I fuck him senseless to help me through this, but I just
can’t. Not now.
“I’m going to use the
treadmill a bit. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”
“Is that a metaphor?”
he asks. “Just when I think I’m about to get somewhere, you invite
me to run in place.”
I misunderstand
deliberately. “It’s good for you.”
“Is it?” March raises
a brow. “I expect certain ascetic brotherhoods would agree with
you.”
“What are we talking
about again?” I begin my stretches, careful not to look him in the
eye.
“You know perfectly
well.”
Well, of course I do.
He’s my pilot, isn’t he? I just don’t want to deal with it.
Avoidance isn’t my style, though. Never has been. I need to bring
it out in the open.
“What do you want me
to say?” Sufficiently limber, I climb on the machine. It registers
my height and weight, and then sets my initial pace
accordingly.
“I want to know what
the hell’s going on,” he bites out. “I thought we were—”
“Together?” I
supply.
“Yes, that. And we
make decisions as one, don’t we? When did we decide on celibacy,
exactly? I’m dying to touch you.”
I don’t look at him
as I run, arms curled high against my sides. “It wasn’t a decision.
It just happened. First they separated us, and then—”
I got sick.
No. I just can’t say
that aloud. But he’s strong and fit, whereas I’m fragile. I can’t
wade in beside him with a shockstick and a kiss-my-ass smile
anymore. I don’t have the stamina or the speed. I can’t be an equal
partner to him now. Maybe I never can be again.
The old Jax wouldn’t
have cowered with Vel in the med center. She’d have found a way to
do both, somehow. She’d have saved Vel and managed to find March,
too. I can rationalize it, but I’ve changed. I’m not up to my old
weight.
Weak.
Before I can alter
the status quo, I need to hear what Doc has to say. It’s not fair
to tie March to someone who may have a shorter life expectancy than
your typical jumper—and that’s saying a lot. That truth hurts so
much that I’ll never be able to speak the words. Not to
him.
But he knows.
Deliberately, March
steps off his machine and heads for the door. Even though I’m not
Psi, I feel the pain rolling off him in raw, angry waves. Without
turning, he says, “I had no idea you were such a fucking coward,
Jax. You think you love me enough to die for me. Big fucking deal;
you don’t love me enough to live for me.
You’ve quit on us before we ever began.”
