CHAPTER 25
Lachion hasn’t changed a
bit.
Then again, why would
it? It hasn’t been as long as it seems since I was here. The
horizon stretches pale and endless beyond the compound walls,
bounded by dry plains. This place offers extremes—heat or
cold—depending on the season.
After discovering the
scary things that live in the caves, the clans stayed because
Lachion meant freedom from the Corp. Nobody has ever given a shit
about what happens on this planet. Despite the new world order, I
don’t see that changing anytime soon.
To my astonishment,
this looks like a formal delegation, not the casual welcoming party
I expected. Far cry from the last time I touched down here. And is
that the gutter press, lined up behind Keri and Lex?
Shit, it is. I recognize the guy with the poorly implanted
ocular cam. In the old days, he stalked me through spaceport bars,
hoping to get a shot of my tits for the midnight bounce. Nice.
Keri’s smile looks
decidedly artificial. “We’re delighted that you chose Lachion to
kick off your interplanetary goodwill tour.”
A smile tugs hard at
the corners of my mouth, and it’s all I can do not to burst out
laughing. “Of course. I’d love to see a greater level of
governmental participation from the clans.”
Since freethinkers
and outlaws abide here, that will go over like the monkey-pilot
experiments from the turn of the century. The clans don’t want to
legislate, vote, or pay extra tariffs. For Mary’s sake, they settle
grievances in the arena.
“We’ll discuss that
during your visit,” she responds through gritted teeth.
I suspect Keri’s
going to kick my ass again, which is sad because she’s just over
half my age. The girl is tougher than she looks. As I move forward,
a barrage of questions greets me.
“Ambassador, can you
tell us anything about your plans?”
“How do you feel
about the proposed integration of Ithiss-Tor into the
Conglomerate?”
“Why is your
itinerary shrouded in secrecy? Our sources say you may be targeted
for retaliatory action from Farwan loyalists or other extremist
groups. Is there any truth to those claims?”
“Can you comment on
the recent rumors that you detoured en route to thwart a Morgut
attack on Emry Station?”
I ignore them all,
trying to move forward while the guy with the bulging eye cam
watches me like I’m about to yank up my shirt right here. In
addition to the fact that those days are behind me, it’s also too
damn cold. Why don’t I ever have a coat when I need one?
March stands
somewhere to the right, just behind me, but he won’t be coming to
my aid. Yep, just like the last time. I’ve lost track of Dina, but
she’s somewhere behind me, and Vel doesn’t like cameras, as they
possess a small chance of ferreting out inconsistencies in his
appearance that would ID him as nonhuman.
Jael pushes his way
up beside me. “The ambassador isn’t answering questions at this
time. Clear the way.” He looks almost friendly as he says it, but
there’s a high shine in his pale eyes that says he wouldn’t mind
cracking some heads in time for the midnight bounce.
As if they sense it
as well, the reporters get out of the way. Keri leads my entourage
along the drive, her own people straggling behind. Five of them
wear purple arm-bands; I’m not exactly sure what that
means.
When we’ve left
earshot, she mutters, “You always bring trouble, don’t
you?”
“Everyone needs a
hobby.” I used to say that to March in regard to thinking about my
own death. Does that mean I’ve made emotional progress?
“Perhaps you’d
consider horticulture.”
Outbuildings line the
path to the main house, an old-fashioned stone structure. The
wire-and-steel security fence crackles, reminding me why it’s
there: to keep the monsters out. Remembering that endless night
where so many people died, I stifle my smart-ass reply.
A while back, March
liberated me from my cell, after the crash of the Sargasso. He saved me from a lifetime of torment
and delivered me to Lachion, where I was intended to help Clan
Dahlgren start a renegade jump-training academy. Unfortunately,
their rivals, Clan Gunnar, wanted to get their hands on me as well.
Anyone who controlled a supply of jumpers would possess an edge—
and on more than just a planetary scale. So they came at us on the
ground, forced us to stop.
Tired of being jerked
around, I started a melee between the clans right out in the open,
not knowing that blood would draw the Teras, awful winged monsters
that sweep across the plains like a plague, eating everything in
sight. And because of an evolutionary boon, you can’t see them
coming—just hear the sound of their wings.
Despite my best
intentions, I can still hear the Gunnar warriors screaming as they
were swept away on that hungry tide, an unseen army of claws and
talons rushing around me in the dark. I shiver. No more thinking of that. Not now. It’s safe here
behind the electrical perimeter, and nobody is bleeding.
I make myself smile
at Keri. “I swear I didn’t intend for this to turn into such
a—Doc!” I spot him about thirty meters out and take off at a dead
run.
Part of me had
worried I’d never see him again. What if Vel had lied about leaving
him in a trunk when he took his place? That’s how the bounty hunter
managed to snag me; he pretended to be Doc. So there’s some truth
to the Syndicate’s worry that Sliders—a human slang term for
Ithtorians, or Bugs, as they’re also called—present a threat to our
way of life.
But Vel didn’t lie.
There Doc stands, solid and sturdy, still wearing his
salt-and-pepper goatee, and his hair shorn close to his skull. Come
to that, we have the same haircut now.
He breaks into a
broad smile and meets me halfway. His hug practically pulverizes my
ribs, but I don’t care. My eyes sting. Doc was the first one to
treat me like I wasn’t dangerous or criminally insane, responsible
for the lost lives on the Sargasso. I’ll
never forget him for that.
“I missed you,” I say
shakily. This probably isn’t ambassadorial behavior, but I don’t
give a shit. “You’re really all right?”
“I’m fine, Jax. Good
to see you, too. Er, you can let go now.” Yep, it’s definitely Doc.
I expect him to comment on my fragile appearance, but he has more
tact than that. I’ve been surrounded by the likes of March, Dina,
and Jael too long.
My bodyguard says,
“They’ll have you on the news, speculating about an illicit affair
with him, by morning. Possible impropriety by the New Terran
ambassador?” he intones, just like one of the talking
heads.
“Please. Nobody
cares.” But I step back nonetheless.
Doc scans all our
faces and seems to focus on Vel. “You. I believe you mistook me for
luggage on our last meeting.”
Since Vel looks like
everyone and no one, it’s a logical leap, and Doc excels in that
area. I can’t imagine what he makes of the situation we currently
find ourselves in. Hopefully, he’ll be able to help me. I can’t
think too long about the possibilities otherwise.
“Sorry about that.” I
must say, Vel doesn’t look sorry. “Farwan
supplied me with erroneous information.”
For a long, tense
moment, I think cool, calm pacifist Doc might sock the bounty
hunter in the nose. Then he says, “I suppose everyone makes
mistakes. Let’s go inside, shall we?”
The gutter press
follows at a discreet distance, filming the whole time. I’d suggest
feeding them to the Teras, but that might strike a sore spot with
Keri. I’ve already hurt the poor girl enough.
March throws brooding
looks over his shoulder now and then. I bet he’d like to pound them
on principle. Mary, I don’t know what to do about that. I know I’m
hurting him. And I want him; I miss him. But I can’t let myself
need him, not because I’m physically
incapacitated. And if he doesn’t understand that, then he doesn’t
know me at all.
Just from this short
walk, my fingertips have gone numb, the icy wind ripping right
through me. When I picked out the vest, I forgot it was still
winter here. Time is fluid, so the moments where everything feels
perfect pass in a wink, and those where you’re on your knees in
despair drag on like the death of a thousand cuts.
As if he notices my
discomfort, Jael presses up against my right side in a manner
that’s destined to provoke March in the worst way. The merc can be
such an asshole—he’s just doing it for the entertainment value. I
pretend I don’t notice either of them.
Fucking men.
We pass into the
warmth of the house and shut ourselves away from prying eyes. I
hope. I muster a smile, even though I’m already tired as hell.
Yeah, just from that short hike. Couldn’t have
been more than half a kilometer.
Keri’s home is lovely
as ever, with all the elegance that surprised me the first time I
visited. The place possesses the old-world charm of handcrafted
moldings, shimmering marble tiles, and carpets so thick I’m afraid
to walk on them. They’ve redone the foyer since I was here last,
though: red and black now, a little more foreboding than the chilly
silver and white elegance her grandmother had favored.
The tiles form a
pattern I can’t identify, though I’ve seen it somewhere before. I
stare down, absently rubbing my hands up and down my biceps. Up the
stairs, she offers capacious guest suites, and hallways lead in
either direction. An enormous silver-gilt mirror with acid-etched
leaves dominates the far wall, offering distorted hints of the
people standing in the foyer. I can’t help but shiver, as if we’ve
been granted a glimpse into the afterlife, nothing but vague shapes
and shadows.
“Looks beautiful,”
March says. “It’s completely you, Keri.”
“Thank you.” Her
cheeks pink with delicate color as she turns toward him.
Just like that, she
forgets me. I’d also forgotten the huge, unrequited crush she had
on March the last time we stopped here. The little darling—she’s
all of nineteen, fights like a chi master, and had started to learn
advanced feats before her grandmother passed away. On top of all
that, at her age, she acts as joint chieftain to her clan. Keri has
smooth skin, a sylph’s shape, a spill of night-dark hair, and eyes
that gleam like pale jade. And by March’s smiles, he’s noticing for
the first time how lovely his mentor’s granddaughter has grown to
be.
I fucking hate the
bitch.
