CHAPTER 41
Their pilot is
good.
Despite adverse
atmospheric factors, our departure goes smooth as s-silk. I’ve
never been on a ship like this one. Instead of worn fittings,
scarred and grimy conduits covered by mismatched panels, and ratty
seats, everything looks brand-new. They went the extra mile and
outfitted the public areas with a high-quality synth that gleams
like mahogany.
With its burgundy
s-leather chairs, the hub looks more like a swanky executive lounge
than where the crew straps in for a jump. Even the safety harnesses
manage to look decorative. At first I’m afraid to touch anything,
and then I realize I don’t care because I’m not paying for
it.
Dina drops down and
puts her head back. “I’ll wait here for jump.”
I’m glad, because
watching her struggle breaks my heart. We pause by our assigned
rooms and drop off our stuff. Then the rest of us continue learning
the lay of the land.
I notice how the
light fixtures shine with gilt trim. And droids going about their
business have an ultrasleek look, including the cleaning bots. This
is a star-class vessel, sold to those with credit ratings I can’t
even imagine.
It’s about time we
got a break. I’m not sure this qualifies, but at least it’s a nice
ride, and we’re passengers for a change. That implies a certain
loss of control over our circumstances, but tired as I am, I’ll
take it in trade.
While the pilot gets
out of the atmosphere, Keller gives us a quick tour and introduces
us to his boys. The blue-eyed one who wants to kill Hit is named
Grubbs. His partner’s name is Boyle. They aren’t in the mood to
chat, however, and disappear into the game room, our first stop.
Huge wall-screen view panel, four terminals, rigged with virtual
sims, and a variety of a comfortable chairs.
Keller’s guys mess
with the equipment, and then the room reverberates with the
distinctive sound of Real Killer. I guess
that’s how enforcers relax. When they aren’t cracking heads, they
sim it. For a moment I stand in the doorway watching the wall
screen mimic the moves they make. That might be fun later.
Keller clears his
throat. “Let me show you the rest.”
With a nod, I step
back, realizing I’m holding up progress. I walk on, only half
listening to Keller’s running commentary. Vel comments now and
then. So does Jael. But it sounds muzzy to me, faraway and
indistinct.
As we go along,
nobody says much, probably eager to clean up and crash. We can’t do
that until after jump, though, and we can’t power up the phase
drive until we’re away from the planet’s gravitational
pull.
I pause on the
observation deck, watching Lachion recede. From this height, it’s a
pale world except for splashes of blue where waters lie. March
seems both infinitesimal and ephemeral to me now. Touching the ring
on my left hand, like a talisman, doesn’t bring him back.
From this height,
it’s like I imagined him. I ache in body and soul. Forgetting the
others behind me, I lean my head against the screen for a moment,
distorting the image. This isn’t the real Lachion, but an array of
light that forms a likeness.
His kiss, his smile,
my frozen tears in the Teresengi Basin—a dozen moments run behind
my closed eyelids, fragments of how we were together. And aren’t
anymore. I don’t know how I’ll bear it.
Vel comes up beside
me and puts his hand on my shoulder. Don’t ask me how I know it’s
him, but I’ve come to expect this kind of quiet, understated
comfort from him. He doesn’t speak, just tilts his head toward the
corridor.
Come away, Jax. There’s a new life waiting for
you.
Maybe he doesn’t mean
that, or even think it, but I ascribe those words to him as I suck
in a deep breath. My eyes sting, but I blink the tears back.
Sometimes giving up the old life is fucking hard.
I trail the others as
we continue the tour. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a vessel so
big. It must cost the annual per capita income of some small
colonies to power it. Game room, observation deck, spa: This ship
is like a roving resort.
I’m definitely coming
back to the spa when I get a chance. I’d love a massage, a facial,
and anything else I can think of. The droid attendant bears the
Pretty Robotics logo, which means she’s top-of-the-line. Even in my
nav-star days, I never traveled in such luxury. Since the Corp
wanted to maximize profit, they squeezed each credit until it
squeaked.
Huh. Apparently crime
does pay.
Just then, the
pilot’s voice comes over the comm. Deep. Masculine. He has an
accent I can’t place. “We’re ready for jump. Strap in, we go in
five.”
“How far are we
traveling?” I ask.
Jael quirks a brow at
me, as if to say, I thought you’d gone mute.
Too bad. I flick my fingers at him and turn back to
Keller.
“One jump and an
eighteen-hour haul,” he answers.
Pity. That doesn’t
tell me anything about our destination. We head for the hub, and
for the first time in more years than I can count, I don the
protective headgear along with everyone else. Envy bubbles in my
gut.
Someone else will
make this leap. Another jumper gets to blaze through grimspace and
find the beacons. Shit, withdrawal might kill me faster than
anything else. My palms feel clammy as I try to strap in.
I fumble. Hell, how
does this even work? I haven’t been a passenger since I was
thirteen years old.
“You look funny,
Jax.” Jael takes the seat next to me. “You all right?”
No. I can’t do the one thing I love more than
anything else in the world, unless I want to die. My reassuring
smile comes out stiff and scary, if the way the merc recoils offers
any clue about my appearance.
Dina answers for me.
“Of course she’s not, jackass. She’s tired, dirty, and she doesn’t
know how to put on her harness.”
“Here,” he says,
oddly gentle. “You crisscross this, and then this one buckles to
the helmet. This last one goes over the top.”
“Thanks,” I
mutter.
I feel helpless. Old.
Used up. I never minded the scars on my body, but this . . . I rub
my foot over the plush carpet like a sullen child.
He studies me a
moment, his pale eyes eerie in his muddy face. “You’ve never ridden
like this? Not even on vacation?”
“Not in a really long
time.” Twenty years, to be exact.
He just doesn’t get
it. Non-jumpers never do, and there’s a thrill I can’t articulate.
But because it might distract me, I try.
“Everyone has
something that makes them special.” I slant him a pointed look to
make sure he takes my meaning. Jael gives me a curt nod. “So
imagine if you couldn’t do it anymore. Whether your gift is good or
bad, losing it cuts out a large core of what made you
unique.”
Dina cracks, “Your
big mouth covers that, Jax.”
“I get it,” Jael
says, after thinking it over. “But you’re still you.”
No, I’m human
detritus, what remains when the best burns away. I quash that
thought on my own since March isn’t here to do it for me.
Hit offers the best
piece of advice. “Just close your eyes and don’t think about it.
Pretend you’re not missing the jump.”
I’ll try. Even a ship
this size shudders a little when the phase drive comes online. So
much energy coursing through the conduits, it couldn’t be
otherwise.
A minute later,
Keller arrives with his goons and they strap in across from me. I’m
glad they didn’t witness my weakness. I tell myself I’m being a
baby, letting the loss hit me so hard. Jumpers retire all the time.
They teach. They live otherwise productive lives.
Why am I determined
to make such a big deal out of it? Maybe I’m used to being the
hero. I expected us to steal a ship, and me to sacrifice more
health because my crew counted on me to jump. Take them to
safety.
Am I disappointed
that I don’t get to be a martyr? Shit. I don’t like what that says
about me. I don’t have to be the center of attention. I can sit
back and ride like everyone else. I can.
I don’t remember what
that first trip was like back when I was a kid. Too many active
jumps have nudged that memory aside. So I don’t know what to
expect.
Vel sits on my left.
He leans over as much as he can within the harness and says, “You
will experience some pressure, but it is not unpleasant. Electrical
sometimes destabilizes while we pass through grimspace, so the
lights may go off or flicker uncontrollably.”
He’s trying to make
it easier. The raw place inside me eases a little. “Anything else I
should know?”
“It helps to hang on
to something.” The bounty hunter offers his hand.
