Grimspace (7 page)

“Do it outside,” March dares me. Mocking. I'd almost
forgotten he could do that. “Go see if it's safe for the rest of us.”

And for Mary's sake, that's the last straw. I just nod and make for the door. If that's what he thinks I'm good for, live bait, the doll you dangle into the cage to see if the monster's sleeping, then fragging
fine
. I don't see what happens thereafter, but he catches me just before I go out, spinning me back to face him. Keri's curled up on her side, where he presumably dumped her as he came scrambling after me.

“Are you crazy?” he demands.

“Yeah.” I hold his look, and I'm just too tired to try to hide anything from him, not that I could entirely. He gets it all, one way or another, then with a muffled oath, he pulls me into his arms, gentle as he was with Keri.

My whole world's upside down as he runs his hands over my back. March is just never, ever nice to me. I don't have any idea how long it's been since he found me on Perlas Station, but it seems like eternity. I can't remember not hating March at this point; it's the one truth to which I cling.

“Let me go before I cut your nuts off,” I tell him, then wonder why I sound like that. Soft. Broken. A not-Jax voice.

“Will you just shag her already?” Dina throws a torch-tube at March, hitting him in the side of the head with a satisfying thunk. The light comes on as it lands at his feet.

I think I love that woman. Because he breaks away to glare at her, and I step back. “I was just trying to keep her from killing herself.”

“Sure you were.” Now the doc's giving him hell. “And that's why you were finger-checking her scapula and vertebrae so carefully for possible injuries, too.”

Can't help but snicker.

“I hate you all,” March growls. His expression adds,
What'd I do to deserve this?

It seems like Dina registers that because she answers the implicit question. “Duh. You hired us out of Gehenna. That's where all the assholes hang out.
You
were there, weren't you?”

“She makes a strong case,” I admit.

Oddly enough, I feel better, less alone. I still need to pee, but I'm not willing to feed myself to the Teras to do so. We're all surprised to hear the Gunnar finally speak up; he's been quiet so long.

“We need to recall the drones, get a look at their security cams,” he says. “If it seems clear, we can make a run for the house. Alternative is to play it safe, stay here until daybreak. It might be a long night, but at least we'll get where we're going.”

At that, March nods and snags Keri's bag, rummages until he finds a remote. “Think this is it, let's have a look at what's out there.”

He inputs a few commands, and about five minutes later, there's a metallic clang as the drones try to proceed through the closed door. Bright, they aren't. We open it just enough for them to pass through, then close it. Bolt it again.

Everyone watches as the Gunnar reviews the footage, grainy, low-tech stuff. But nothing seems to be moving out there.

“You think they're all dead?” Loras asks.

I can see why that'd be a particular concern for him, seeing as he can't fight, at all. Not even monsters. He's reliant on
me
now for his protection. And if that's not the shittiest twist of fate ever, I don't know what is.

“Hard telling. If they've all fed…” The Gunnar pauses, and I know he's thinking about his brothers, taken within the compound proper. “Then they might be nesting.”

March folds his arms. “It's choosing time. I'll have to take Keri. I don't think she's going to wake up for a while, and even if she does, she won't be fit to run.”

Saul clears his throat. “Especially given the fact that I sedated her.”

“We should wait,” I say quietly. “It's stupid to go when we're safe enough here. We have blood all over us, so if there are any in the compound, they'll catch the scent.”

“Daylight won't help us survive them,” Loras observes. “It'll just give us longer to feel afraid.”

“They'll be wanting to return to the caves by then.” For once, March seems to be agreeing with me. “We have a better shot of everyone making it if we do wait.”

The solution's simple, and I have to wonder why I didn't think of it before. “Got an idea. Saul, can I have your shirt?”

I'm not being a perv; he's just got the most blood on his clothing. After a few seconds' hesitation, he pulls it over his head, and I toss him back his coat. They watch as I tie the sleeves around the first drone and push it outside. And the Gunnar nods like it's a sound notion—

But holy shit, I hear wings, and Loras trembles, hands over his ears, since they must be screaming right outside the door. One of them slams hard against the reinforced metal, and I swallow, hoping they can't smell us through the building, that their claws aren't strong enough to get through these walls. I hear the sound of the drone being smashed to bits.

Oh, Mother Mary, no, please don't let me have fucked this up.

I don't notice I'm rocking back and forth on my heels until March puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “It was a good idea,” he tells me softly. “We'd have died trying to get to the main house. We're safe in here. And this way, nobody secretly feels we're being too cautious.” A little louder, he adds, “Going to call the Dahlgren First and have him spread word that there are Teras inside the perimeter.” Shortly thereafter, he gets on the radio and does so.

Throat thick, I nod. I've just realized that if I'd gone outside to pee, well, what happened to the drone, that'd be me right now. He really did save my life.
Oh shit.
I have a smart-ass comment about being his
shinai
on the tip of my tongue when, for probably the first time in my life, I hold it. Not because March deserves something more sincere, although he does, but because what's been done to the La'heng just isn't something I should joke about. And at least I've caught myself before I can be an insensitive asshole.

“Thanks,” I answer. I'm not just saying that because he complimented me. And by the shine of his dark eyes, he knows that.

He just shrugs, but it feels like an apology, as if he knows he pushed too far. It'll do. Dina's watching us, and she just rolls her eyes, smirking. “Let's get some bio in place if we're staying the night,” is all she says.

All she really wants is two empty buckets, and we argue a little bit. I finally say, “Okay, you must get off on guys watching you piss, then. I'm sorry, I didn't realize.”

“Bitch.” But she's smiling as she helps me rig a primitive setup of blankets on wire fastened to the shelving on either side.

I'm the first to test out the ladies' bucket and man, I think I have a peegasm when I finally let go, groaning. The guys are all smirking when I come out. I know they heard me, but whatever, dammit.
Can we try to be a little bit grown-up? Please?

March seems to think about that, then shakes his head. But he grins at me. He's removed his jacket, tucked it underneath Keri's head. I dislike seeing the gentle side of him; makes him harder to hate, and I've been doing that so well. Doing my best to ignore both him and Loras, who I swear is trying to piss me off with his attentive-slave impression, I walk past and drop down beside the Gunnar, who looks as sad as a human can without actually weeping.

“So what's your name?” I mean obviously it's something Gunnar, but surely they don't just number the big lugs.

“Lex,” he answers tiredly. “Alexander.” His gaze goes to Keri, and I wonder what's on his mind. “I'm going to have to marry her,” he adds, when he sees me looking. He sounds about as pleased about that as I'd be to hook up with March.

Really starting to like that glare, by the way.

“How come?” I think he needs to talk more than I want to know. And that's fine.

“Clan competition is fierce here,” he tells me. “As I'm sure you've figured out. We have to race for new technology, resources. Everything. There's a very definite hierarchy, and we two have been at each other for the top spot for years now. That's why we went after you so hard. Couldn't let Dahlgren get the edge.”

“How the hell do I qualify as either?”

“Commerce,” he tells me. “Right now, the only source of trained jumpers is via the Corp. They control all trade, more or less, although they would deny that's their intent with their refusal to permit unaffiliated academies. Imagine the money that could be made if someone successfully created an alternative.”

“You not only want to try and figure out what makes me tick, you also want me to train jumpers for you.”

I've put the pieces together now. My disgrace on Matins IV probably seemed like a hell of an opportunity. How often does a jumper wind up like that? Ordinarily they'd have no hope of turning one of us; part of our indoctrination is a “Corp for life” mentality. That's what No-chin meant when he said the Gunnars would pay more, and it'd be better for all concerned if I signed with them. Teaching…never even thought of that. Obviously, the Corp has instructors, former jumpers, who choose retirement over burnout, and they impart what we need to know about grimspace. We make our first practice jumps with them, all jacked into a test ship that simulates what we'll one day do all by ourselves.

He nods. “We could create new trade routes. Establish a free market, and it would help a lot of outposts, not having to pay Corp tariffs for their supplies. But Mother Mary, in one day, such losses…” Lex closes his eyes. “The only hope either clan has now is consolidation. We become Gunnar-Dahlgren, marry up, and combine our ranks, or we get wiped by the other clans.”

“When shell freezesh over,” Keri says, slurred, sedated.

“Well, put on your overcoat, sweetheart.”

Hard to say who looks more shocked to hear that coming from March.

The inevitable argument's postponed when Keri passes
out again.

March pulls her up against him, a wise idea—sharing body heat since this shed lacks climate control. But everyone's regarding him speculatively, wondering what he has in mind. Being March, in the face of such avid curiosity, he leans his head back against the wall, closes his eyes, and goes to sleep. Just like that.

Hits me then—that's a soldier's skill, being able to turn off and on. It's an invaluable talent, one that allows them to stand watch easier…but it takes years in the field to develop it, usually on rough assignments. I frown as I study him, trying to put the pieces together. He's clearly a merc, and I'm willing to bet if I got a glimpse of his bare chest, he'd have some battle scars to show. Not that I want to see March without a shirt, Mary forefend. But how does a Psi-sensitive stay hidden for so long? And he's clearly got some ability to control it, or he would be nuts by now.

There's something about that bugging me, some thought I had that would help me figure him out, but right now I'm just too tired to get a fix on it. As I'm sitting there, rubbing my hands over my arms absently, Loras brings me one of the spare blankets. I wish it was a genuine kindness, but I can tell by his expression it's part of the whole
shinai
thing. No wonder March was so glad to have it end—being served by someone who resents it with every fiber of his being, well, it kind of sucks. I mean, not the help. I'm glad of the blanket, and I wrap up in it with a murmured, “Thanks.”

But just the fact Loras feels like he
has
to wait on me. I hate that.

It's cold enough in here that I can see my own breath. With all the other stuff going on, I hadn't noticed…but I gave Doc back his coat when I fed his shirt to the Teras, and I'm freezing. Loras stands for a moment, staring down at me. He's wearing a simple pair of trousers and pullover, so I don't know how his teeth aren't chattering.

Glance across the room and find Dina looking extremely pissed off, since she's sandwiched between Doc and Gunnar. “Say ‘cream filling,' and I kill you. Seriously.”

I muffle a laugh, but I manage not to say it. Somehow.

“You want me to…?” Loras gestures at the others, huddled up.

And I hate even more that he feels like he needs to ask permission. Mother Mary, it's common sense. I scowl up at him. I am not personally to blame for what my race did to his, however long ago.

“Okay, you have to follow my directives, right?” At his nod, I continue, “Then you're forbidden to do anything but what you want. And if you'd like to come down here so we can both get warm, do that. If
not
, do what the hell ever. Because I'm tired, and I am sick of this shit.”

At this, March's eyes snap open, and now
he
looks extremely pissed. “I can't believe I never thought of that.”

Bastard was faking, so he wouldn't have to answer questions. He gives me a grin and closes his eyes again, while Loras stands there, looking dumbfounded. “It would be very foolish for both of us to be cold,” he says finally, and drops down beside me.

I get the feeling this is the first time anyone's said that to him. Hope it's easier on him, and me, too, for that matter. I'm not cut out to go around giving orders about every little thing. Too much of that, and I'd be killing him instead of watching his back.

“Good call.”

He settles in beside me, shoulder to shoulder, and we wrap up in a second blanket. Takes a little while, but I can feel myself warming up, and as my body temperature rises, I get sleepy.
Gonna close my eyes for a minute…

Next thing I know, I'm feeling
so
good, not exactly sure where I am, and it doesn't matter because I'm toasty warm, lying in someone's arms. I nuzzle my nose against his throat, stretching luxuriously. I want to make love, soft and slow. My half-awake brain tells me it must be Kai, because he's the only one I ever slept with like this, and then the other half rouses and points out that's impossible.

My eyes snap open.

A torch-tube glows in the middle of the room, providing a little light. Enough to see that March's face is right above mine, and he
knows
. The floor can open up to admit me now, thanks. At some point, he must've given Keri to Loras and come to huddle with me himself, though damned if I know why.

“You were whimpering in your sleep,” he whispers. “And jabbing with your elbow. Almost broke his nose.”

“And you thought you could fix it?” I pitch my voice low because the others are all still sleeping, but I'm angry over his presumption, angry that I slept better in his arms than I have since Kai died.

He shrugs. “If nothing else, I'm too big for you to hurt me.” At my look, he adds, “Okay, too big for you to hurt
accidentally
.”

And he doesn't need to say that I settled down as soon as he pulled me close. I
know
I did; I can almost remember the dreams that made me restless, and I can almost see his resigned expression as he pulled me against his chest, wrapped his arms about me, can almost hear my own small sound as I relaxed like it's somewhere I'm supposed to be. I really
am
insane. I remember Dina mentioning that he lost someone in the crash, and I want to know more. Does he blame me? Should he?

I don't even know the answer to that.

“Why do you hate me so much?” For a moment, I can't believe I asked. It's got to be the false intimacy, sound of other people breathing, lying in his arms in the dark.

“I don't…hate you.” His voice sounds gruff.

I gaze up at his face, trying to read his expression, defeated by shadows' fall. “Dislike me profoundly and intensely, before we ever met.”

“Look, I'm not having this conversation right now. Go to sleep, Jax.”

“Go to hell, March.” But I'm smiling as I say it.

As I doze off again, I'm pretty sure he says, “Been there, done that, and I'm keeping a spot warm for you, babe.”

The next time I wake up, it's to hear:

“No. How can you ask me to
do
this, March? It's monstrous and barbaric.”

Great. I guess they're making wedding plans. My eyelids feel like they've got paste under them, and I am, mercifully, by myself. Maybe I dreamed that whole weird interlude during the night.
Please let me have dreamed it.

Because I don't want to carry the awareness that I fit nicely against March's chest and that his heartbeat is a comforting way to fall asleep. I especially don't want to remember rubbing my face against his throat and liking it. I think I need to kill him. For a moment, I try to imagine a giant rock landing on him, but I can't—

Mother Mary, I
am
deranged. Because I can't bring myself to picture any real harm coming to him. In fact, it alarms me to think of losing him. When nothing else makes sense, he's rock solid. Inexplicably, I feel like I can count on him.

I'm defanged where he's concerned. Or something. It hurts when I press, a wound I didn't even know I had. I don't want to rely on him in any capacity. Mary knows, I've learned the hard way that nothing lasts forever.

“If you would stop thinking like a stupid kid for a minute,” the Gunnar says, “you'd realize this is the only way to save both our clans.”

Oh smooth, Lex. That's the way to get the girl.

“I'm not a stupid kid…I just hate you! Which seems to be the best proof of my intellect that I could offer.”

Wonder if that's how March and I sound. If so, that'd be why people think we want to shag each other. And maybe they're not entirely wrong, since I can't deny he has a certain raw charisma. Regardless, I'm now convinced that Keri's going to wind up a Gunnar. It's a foregone conclusion.

I climb out of my warm nest and start folding up the blankets. Someone's already been outside to empty the buckets, so I guess that means it's safe. Everyone seems to be here. Dina, Doc, and Loras are sucking on packets of paste, looking no more pleased than I'd be if I were eating one. All three are riveted on the funny little love triangle, funny because I don't think March realized until now that all his protectiveness had created one gi-enormous crush.

Which makes me wonder how he missed it, being Psi and all. He can't seem to help rummaging around my head like it's a jumble sale, but he has no clue what's going on with Keri?
Interesting
.

Case in point, he turns to glare at me.