Grimspace (27 page)

Longest wait of my life.

But eventually, Sheppard comes through. He's a lean man with deep-set eyes and a weathered face. We find him waiting for us at the base of the mountain in a trawler, big-ass hunk of all-terrain machinery. I have no idea how he got ahold of it, but I don't care. Vel and I slip-slide our way down to meet him and pile inside.
Mary, it's so warm in here.
Settling in back, I pull down my hood and start peeling out of the insulated gear.

Almost forgot I'm still in pajamas.
Haven't bathed in days, not since the hostel in Maha City. It highlights how bad off I am when I feel nostalgic about that shitty san-shower with all the scurrying bugs. Miracle my arm isn't infected…Vel won't let me look at his shoulder, largely because that would mean shedding the human skin keeping him warm. We take off in a rumble of treads rolling over the snow.

“Right,” Sheppard says by way of greeting. “We'll have to make for—”

“Ankaraj. Please. Drop me as close as you can.”

“Your boy's a bit mad, eh?” he says to Velith, ignoring me.

Boy.
Shit, I forgot about my head. “I
mean
it.”

Vel glances up from whatever he's doing. As soon as we got in, he jacked into the portal sys-term, sending spiders out to retrieve data at a speed I can't even track. Watching his eyes scan back and forth as he reads makes me feel a little queasy. And then he compiles the info, his fingers deftly copying to a spike.

“Ankaraj,” he affirms. “Take us straight to headquarters.”

“You're both barking mad. The city's in lockdown, they'll never let us in.” But a look from Vel seems to change his mind. I wonder how he'd react if he discerned what lurks beneath the unremarkable exterior, Guilder or not. “Right, Ankaraj it is then. We're not too far off, though you wouldn't have made it on foot.”

Glancing out at the stark black and white of the landscape, capped by a hopeless gray sky, I can only agree. We plow onward, and I find myself bouncing one leg until Vel reaches over to still me without looking up from the screen. “We've got them,” he tells me, powering the sys-term down.

Before I can ask what he means, the sun breaks from behind the clouds, reflecting too bright off the ultrachrome-and-glastique horror that is Ankaraj. Active defense towers, uniformed guards monitoring the expressway into the city. I see two squads of gray men trying to subdue the panic of a populace unused to open warfare. I can almost hear them crying out, “But we're too civilized for such things, aren't we?”

March, what have you done?

“I hope you two have got some idea as to how…” Sheppard starts to say, as the trawler reaches the checkpoint. “Oh, hello, Officer. It's imperative that we—”

At that I sit forward enough that the guard can get a good look at my face. “I'm Sirantha Jax. And it is imperative that I reach my people. I can stop this.”

Poor bastard. He thinks I'm crazy at first, but then he glances between my bruised face and the ugly picture they have splashed all over the holo-feed. “But…you're dead.”

If it weren't so fucking urgent, I'd laugh. “Not so much. Let us in.”

That galvanizes him into action, and I hear his voice reverberate over the city comm. “Armed escort immediately. Clear the roads. First priority.”

Sheppard keeps stealing glances at me when he thinks I'm not looking. “You…you're…”

“That poxy terrorist. Don't worry, my reputation's somewhat exaggerated.”

He sighs. “Right. And you're his take, yeah?”

Velith shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Quite the contrary. You will soon see, along with everyone else.”

I hope that means he's got a plan. Surreal. I feel as though we're leading a parade, so many armored vehicles behind us, and people following on foot, since the checkpoint seems to have been abandoned. As I wanted, Sheppard takes us straight there.

“One favor,” I say to our driver. “Bounce a message to this private sequence for me. Say, ‘I'm sorry.' It doesn't need to be encrypted.”

It's all I can do, an acknowledgment of my failure—my only consolation is that Keri hasn't been drawn into this mess with us. At least, they've got distance from it. Maybe they can start over, someday. Then I climb down without waiting for them to finish transacting Guild business.

A hush falls over the crowd assembled outside the squat, sprawling building that serves as the Corp home office. This is where I came to sign my contract, so long ago. I realize they're looking at me, and I can only imagine the picture I present: bald, barefoot, coming into the cold wearing only bloodstained pajamas. I know I'm gaunt, my nipples making sharp points through my thin cami, but I don't let myself shiver.

No weakness. Hold your head high.

People part when I pass as if I am the Holy Mother come to bless them or the Dark Lady come to reap their souls. To their minds, I've risen from the dead, which is as close to miraculous as most people ever get. Or perhaps it has something to do with the gray men closing on me. Velith holds up a hand, stepping between them and me.

“You shall not touch her.” His voice carries that terrible dual euphonic tone, and they fall back, cowed.

There's something uncanny about Velith, but since he's on my side, I don't delve into it. “That's best. I'll stop this if you let me go.”

The squad leader glances at his men, then he says, “Stand down.”

I've never seen that happen before. He knows there's no way I'm getting out of here alive. Already knew that, though. They're letting me in because that's exactly where they want me, and I can help inside, but getting out again, that's another story. Once March releases the hostages and reveals the location of the explosives, we're done. I know that; I just don't care.

“Where are they?” I ask.

“Third floor, communications center.”

We pass into the neutral light of the building, although the floor feels no warmer against the soles of my feet. The foyer is deserted. I presume they've long since evacuated all inessential personnel, other than the hostages.

I pause and glance at Velith; he has so much more to lose. He could've walked away, played it safe. I don't understand him at all. “Why are you doing this?”

“Perhaps I have always wanted to play the hero, Sirantha.” That's not an answer, but I let it be, as we proceed through silent halls.

So ironic. I ran so long and fought so hard to escape the Corp. And now here I am, returning all but naked and unarmed. It doesn't matter anymore. All I know is that I can't let it end like this, where March becomes a conscienceless butcher because of me, even if they are Corp automatons and wage slaves. He's better than this. Better than
me
. And I'd die for him. That's why I'm here. Nothing else makes a bit of difference; I'm here to share his fate.

Finally found something more important than me, baby.

My throat burns. There's nobody anywhere in the building, but on the third floor, we run into two MPs dragging a struggling man in a suit toward what I presume to be the comm center. I guess they finally decided to give up the button man. The Corp certainly doesn't hold human life sacred, after all.

“You're dead,” he shouts. “You're supposed to be dead. Mother Mary of Anabolic Grace, what will it take to
kill
you?”

“People keep saying that.” But then I take a closer look at him, straining against his captors. “Simon?”

Vel frowns, glancing between us. “You know this man, Sirantha?”

“Not well enough to have foreseen this, but technically he's my husband.”

I disregard whatever Simon's screaming as they tow him toward the doors. Had no idea he'd climbed so high on the Corp ladder that he'd be placed for involvement in something like this. Then again, he always was ambitious. I think he chased me because he thought it would help his career, being married to a nav-star. Too bad I came equipped with a mind of my own and no compunctions about telling him that he couldn't get me off with a handbook.

“Save the reunion,” the guard says, clapping a hand over Simon's mouth. “Let's take this inside before that crazy bastard in there starts making people explode.”

“I told you, nobody gets in but the one responsible for her death.” Every muscle tenses at hearing March on the speakers. Mary, I've never heard him sound like that. Cold. Determined. Hopeless. He's likely monitoring the building from inside. “Keep fucking with me, and this whole place goes up. We planted enough charges to take out this whole quadrant, and I'm tired of waiting.”

“Just, please, let us in,” the guard begs, sounding like he wishes he was in another line of work. “We brought him for you, didn't we?”

There's a long, tense silence, and I'm almost afraid he's going to snap before we get inside. But then the lock clicks, and the doors swing open. I don't wait; I can't. My feet pound the floor as I break into a run. But I draw up as I realize sudden movement is a really bad idea.

The room smells of stale sweat and terror, faint acrid reek of urine. People lie facedown on the floor. I recognize Dina and March, note a couple strangers with disruptors, hired guns most likely.
Oh Mary, look at what I've done to him.
He carries hell in his eyes, the set of his mouth. He regards me with a blank, dead stare.

“You fragging twats,” he says, a low, hoarse voice. “You'd try anything. Trying to fool me with a dupe? Get that bitch out of here.”

“March, it's me, baby. I'm here. I will
always
come for you.”

I move toward him, knowing he might shoot me in the chest. I can feel that he's gone away somewhere inside his head, a fire-washed wasteland where nothing matters, and the burning never stops. I know the place all too well.

I'll wind up there myself if anything happens to this man.

I keep walking.

“Dina, you dumb bitch. Why'd you let him talk you into this?” That earns me a sharp glance. I sense it more than see it. Less than two meters to him now. I see his fingers trembling on the weapon. “Remember when I sat on your lap in the rover? I expected you to grab my ass, but you never did. Guess I'm really
not
your type.”

“Shit,” she breathes. “March, it's Jax. It's really her.”

He comes roaring into me then, although he doesn't move, not gentle exploration, more of an invasion. I feel everything inside him—the despair of my own death washes over me, and I stop. My chest feels tight; it's almost impossible to breathe.

Then I don't see anything at all because he crushes me in his arms. My ribs contract as he squeezes me, trying to make me part of him. The hired gunmen are screaming at the guards, and Simon adds to the clamor, but I can't make out what they're saying over the roaring in my head. Distantly, I'm aware of a woman sobbing, hoarse and desperate in the cadence of her weeping.

“I wanted him to die,” March whispers. “I wanted the whole world to die. Jax, Jax…” His fingers tremble as they brush across my scalp, down over my temples to my jaw. He touches my bruised eye with such reverence that I might be a holy artifact.

I don't know what might have happened then, but everyone in the room freezes as the forty vid screens around the room light up, and Velith steps away from a sys-terminal, looking pleased. The first thing that pops up is a document. It's a meeting agenda with the heading:
Matins IV
—
a Conglomerate summit to vote upon deregulation.

Deregulation…

A chill washes over me. But that's not all. Up on-screen, we see footage from the crash, smoldering wreckage, and I suddenly know what Vel's doing.
Mary, he's fragging brilliant.
This is what he was splicing in the trawler, but I'm still surprised when the display patches to the grainy record taken from his cranial cam. Didn't even know he had one, but I guess it eliminates any question of how a capture went down. I see myself pinned, his claw on my throat, hear myself surrender to save the others.

Then we bounce to the Silverfish, where I say, fuzzy but audible, “Did it ever occur to you to that the Corp is guilty of disseminating false information? I'm the only survivor from the
Sargasso
, but I didn't do that. The landing authority used override codes on our vessel and supplied incorrect coordinates, the wrong trajectory. They fragging
engineered
that crash.”

And now everyone watching this feed, not sure how many that is, knows it, too. But he's still not done. Vel shows the world the way I provoked the Morgut, feeding them my blood like a moron, and we hear his voice on the comm. “Why does my target claim that Farwan Corporation is responsible for the crash on Matins IV? Why does the target prefer to provoke a pack of Morgut to being extradited into your custody?”

“She's insane,” comes the soon-to-be-infamous response. “She would say anything. Just sit tight, and help will arrive shortly. We have a unit en route.”

The last scene shows us crouched behind the rocks, as the Corp ship blows the
Spiral
all to hell; and then it starts to play all over again. Outside, I hear the crowd roaring, the impact of something exploding against glastique. Farwan Corporation murdered the last hero the whole galaxy recognizes, Miriam Jocasta, because they were afraid of the vote. Afraid the Conglomerate would vote to deregulate jump-travel and permit freely established academies.

Security's going to have a hell of a time containing the riots—if they even bother. The public never likes being duped. Hostages clamber unsteadily to their feet because even the hired gunmen look stunned and numb. Nobody stops them.

“It is finished,” Vel tells the guards. “I bounced that feed to every Conglomerate world, and it is only a matter of time before they arrive demanding justice for their murdered representatives. Once exposed, a secret loses all its power.”

He's right. Although it may flail around like an enormous decapitated beast, doing collateral damage, Farwan's days are numbered. They failed to break me before March got me off station, and now it's too late. They should've killed me instead of trying to turn me into their sacrificial goat. I've said that all along.

I can't even begin to imagine the economic ripples this is going to have. I foresee world after world seceding from the Conglomerate until it ultimately dissolves. And who can prosecute a company so large, it essentially became a galactic government? But perhaps a strong leader can hold it together. They'll have to create a tribunal, so much ground-breaking here. It's a new universe, or will be, once the shock waves cease.

The security officers exchange a long look, then pull the patches from their uniforms. Silently, they drop their weapons and nobody stops them when they leave the room. I guess they're unemployed now. A lot of folks will be before this thing is done. Hard times are coming, but I think perhaps it's a good thing. Change is good, chaos can be beneficial, and this will open a lot of doors. Maybe ours won't be the only start-up academy; maybe we'll have competition. And that's exactly as it should be.

“I was only following orders,” Simon whimpers. “They told me to select someone expendable, and you've been jumping a long time. Statistically speaking, you should have burned out long since. Sirantha, please…”

Deliberately I turn my back on him, content to let the incipient tribunal deal with him and all the rest of his ilk. I hear the sound of one of his former employees shutting him up. It's distinctive, the repetitive thud of a fist hitting a face. The room empties, some hostages looking broken, others disbelieving. I can relate; rather suddenly, the face of the universe has changed.

March pulls me back into his arms then. He let me turn when the screens came to life, but now he's compulsive, running his hands over my back, my shoulders, my hips. He holds me as if it hurts him to breathe, and he can't seem to find his voice.

Dina comes up behind us, and I'm surprised to feel her arms encircle both of us. “You stupid bitch,” she mutters. “I don't need you dying for me. I need you to stick around because…you're my best friend.” She squeezes us with her corded arms, then steps back, clearing her throat. “We got a message from Doc, by the way. He's all right, just stuck on Gehenna. Said he had some news for you, but he didn't say what.”

“I'll bounce a message to him later,” I answer.

But I think I already know, something about the L-gene appending to the J-gene. Maybe he knows why since he's had nothing but time since we left and access to the excellent Carvati research facilities.

“Come on,” she adds to the hired guns. I hear explosions in the distance, shattering glastique. “Let's loot this place before the angry mob gets inside.”

Then it's just the two of us. I meant to thank Vel, but he's gone, and I didn't see him leave. Maybe for him it was as simple as getting to the truth. Maybe we didn't bond like I thought we did, but I can't think about that right now. I'll locate him later if he wants to be found.

It's time to say the words. Wherever he is, Kai knows my feelings now don't lessen anything we shared. March is such an odd dichotomy of buried cruelty and brutality, overlaid by the kindness and compassion that Mair taught him. He'd kill the world for me, so it's my place to make sure he never has to.

Yeah, they proved there's nothing spiritual, no such thing as a soul, but I'm not sure I can wholly put my faith in science anymore. Miracles are possible. I believe.

“I love you,” I whisper, lifting a hand to his cheek.

He catches my fingers and carries my palm to his lips, not a kiss so much as homage. I feel his tongue against my skin, tasting what I've been through as he comes into me, gentler this time, sharing instead of raiding.

“Once in a while,” he murmurs, low, “a man would like to rescue the woman he loves. You can't keep saving me.”

I shake my head, wrapping my arms about him. “You had your turn, remember?”

“Jax, when you never came back…” I feel him trembling. “I found your bag, and 245 showed us what happened to you. She captured it, so we knew you meant to die for us. Started falling then, but I never hit bottom, just—” His voice breaks, and he squeezes me with all his strength. “And then we saw the newsfeed…” He gives me everything he felt, rage and anguish, washing over me in waves that never ebb.

It hurts, but then, what doesn't? Pain proves that we're alive, gives us the ability to appreciate pleasure—everything in balance, everything in its time.

“You don't need to be afraid of falling,” I murmur, raising my lips to his, whispering into his skin, “when there's someone around to catch you.”

I'm Sirantha Jax, former Farwan navigator, and that's my job.