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Authors: Ann Aguirre

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BOOK: Wanderlust
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It takes me a few moments to process that. “When I pass out for three days after a bad jump—”

“That’s the unique metabolic process at work. But in order to heal, the resources must be taken from elsewhere,” he says with a grave look.

“So my body breaks down my bones to fix my brain, so I can keep jumping. And there’s no cure?” I can’t look at him. My gaze roves the crowd behind him, watching a man assemble shocksticks and taser pistols from spare parts.

“How could there be? I’ve never heard of a jumper who could do this, and I’ve studied thousands of medical records.”

He doesn’t need to spell it out for me. The next time I lapse into a near coma, there’s no telling what system might be ransacked in order to regenerate my brain. Vascular or respiratory pillage might kill me on the spot.

“There’s no way to regulate it?”

Doc shrugs. “Perhaps. This is uncharted territory, Jax. I might eventually be able to develop an implant to control what systems are tapped, defaulting to the less vital ones.”

The rest goes unspoken. That would require time and facilities, and right now, my welfare simply isn’t at the top of his list. He has a whole clan to care for, new wounded coming in daily, and a war raging around us. In the meantime I shouldn’t jump, or it will just get worse. I’ll die, just not like most jumpers.

So how the hell are we getting off this rock?
I exhale shakily.

“What’s the good news?”

“Over time, we can repair the degeneration to your skeletal system,” he tells me. “Maintain the treatments as prescribed, and you won’t always be so—”

“Breakable?”

“That is not a word I’d apply to you.” He smiles faintly.

Well, he can’t see inside me. The man I love risks his life on an hourly basis, and he drifts further away with every heartbeat. Though I can’t articulate the impression, I’m losing him. Kill by kill, someone else trickles in to eclipse the light where he used to be.

He needs to walk away from this war. But March cannot excise his sense of obligation to Keri, springing from his inability to repay Mair, Keri’s grandmother, for everything she did for him. I remember his words, back on the water-logged world of Marakeq. I’d asked him why he was always in my head.

“It means our theta waves are compatible,”
he’d said.
“It’s almost always a one-way feed. I get impressions from other people, what kind and how deep depends on how disciplined their minds are and how much I want to know. Used to be uncontrollable, couldn’t shut it off.”

“How did you—”

“Mair. She wouldn’t teach me the higher forms, but she saw what a mess I was and taught me how to quiet my mind. Shut out the noise through meditation.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Before she took me in hand, I wasn’t even human, Jax.
You have no idea how many people I’ve ended. Broke minds to set an example, for the hell of it, or just because I needed a quiet kill. I spent years on Nicuan, feeding their endless wars. By the time I stole a ship because they shorted my pay, there was nothing left. Mair rebuilt me, brick by brick.”

Oh, irony, you’re such a bitch.

“Thanks,” I tell Doc then. I think he reads something in my expression, but he doesn’t ask, thank Mary. “I’ll let you get back to work. I know you’ve got people a lot sicker than me to deal with.”

“I’ve prepared sixty days’ worth of your treatment, Jax. Just inject yourself once a day, and you should start to see some improvement.”

As long as I don’t jump.
Fuck that, it would be kinder to kill me outright. I make myself smile and thank him. Turning, I lose myself in bodies going about their business. The clansmen are tough, stolid as rocks, and they seem to have adapted well to this lifestyle.

Sometime later, Jael finds me as I sit mechanically assembling weapons I’ll never use. This isn’t my fight; I’m just caught in the middle of it. But if I ever need to, I can get work on low-tech worlds where they make use of cheap human labor.

Part of me acknowledges that’s an exaggeration. I still have my post as ambassador, unless Tarn has washed his hands of me. I wouldn’t know at this point. They can always hire another jumper to ferry me from place to place, but that option rouses a sick, miserable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You look like your best friend died,” he says, dropping down beside me.

Given our current situation, that seems particularly tactless. I just shrug. I don’t feel like talking, particularly not to him. I can’t let myself bond with someone who reminds me so much of Kai.

He misinterprets my gloom. “Look, they seem to think Dina’s going to make it. Cheer up, won’t you?”

“Is it mandatory?” I’m not ready to share my prognosis with anyone. It’s bad enough that I have to haul a med kit around and shoot up like a chem-head.

“Nope. But this might help. We’re getting out of here. Two days, tops.”

“How?”

“Your Bug friend has some astonishing resources in that bag of his. We’ve been monitoring enemy transmissions, and they’re discussing a fallback, as the tunnel war isn’t going well. When they retreat, we’ll sneak out and head for the surface.”

“And be left wide open for Teras to pick off? Or any McCullough men that happen to be in the vicinity?” That might be the worst idea I’ve ever heard.

Jael sighs. “Give us a little credit, will you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I don’t have much faith left, I’m afraid. This scheme sounds stupid, dangerous, and highly likely to get me killed, full of adrenaline-inducing moments, and the hot rush of risk. Which means I should be all for it. Haven’t I always said I didn’t become a jumper to die old and gray? I stop protesting.

“It means we have a plan. I
will
get you out of here, Jax. You have my word.”

I manage a smile, but I don’t believe much in promises anymore either. “What about Dina? She’s not going to be ready to run in two days.”

If he suggests leaving her, I’ll punch him in the eye. I am not the woman from the vids. People are
not
disposable to me.

“That’s going to pose a bit of a problem,” he says. “But we’ll figure that out, too. I need to get back to Vel. Did you want to be in on the brainstorming?”

My brittle smile softens into something close to real. “Yeah. I would.”

He tugs me to my feet. “Well, let’s do it. Forget this,” he adds, sweeping an arm to indicate the dim, grungy encampment. “Soon it’ll seem like a bad dream.”

Sure enough, I have plenty of those.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 32

We’ve made our plans.

In four hours, we’re out of here. Vel and Jael have fashioned a back harness, and they’ll take turns carrying Dina. Now we just need to say good-bye to Doc, quietly, and collect March, not necessarily in that order. It goes without saying that I’m in charge of the latter.

He’s probably in some meeting, so I leave the other two and go looking for him. Chemical stoves emit a burnt polymer smell as I weave my way through the tents. This nomadic encampment has taken on certain clan characteristics by this point. They’ve allocated a training circle where the rehabilitating men spar to keep from killing each other, and the women occupy themselves across the way devising new uses for old rubbish.

In the distance I hear sounds of combat, cries of pain and rage. Overhead the bombardment has stopped at last, making me think we may have a chance. If Vel’s intel is correct, and we time our run to a McCullough retreat, we might get off this rock.

I settle outside the tactical tent and wait. Passing clansmenno longer glare at me, at least. Someone taps me on the shoulder. I glance up and find someone who looks more like a raider queen than a Lachion native.

She’s incredibly tall, dusky-skinned, and she wears her hair in a short pouf. Her bare arms reveal whipcord strength. Slim metal rods pierce her nose, lower lip, and left brow. She glimmers with silver at throat, fingers, and wrists, highlighting her exotic allure. In the diffuse light, her eyes gleam tawny gold, like a predatory cat.

“Can I help you?” I don’t recognize her, but that doesn’t mean much. I haven’t met everyone down here.

She folds herself into the lotus position beside me. “Whispers say you’re making a break. I want to hitch a ride.”

I recognize her accent, match it to a small world in the Outskirts. If I recall correctly, a bunch of artists and poets settled the place. I wonder if she can fight.

“May not be a smooth run. We could die out there.”

“We could die down here. I know which
I
prefer.”

The woman has a point. I offer my hand. “I’m Jax.”

A faint smile creases her mouth. “I know who you are.”

But she takes my hand, firm grip. Calluses. Okay, so maybe not a useless arty type after all. “And you?”

“My name is Suraya, but my friends call me Hit.”

I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking. “Why’s that?”

Her smile widens. “Because I only ever need one to take someone down.”

Oh, that type.

“What’re you doing on Lachion?”

She shrugs. “Bad idea, this supply run. My whole crew died in the attack. I can pilot, so I won’t be deadweight.” Hit shows me the shunt in her wrist as if I might doubt her word.

Well, it’s never a bad idea to have a backup pilot on board. “I’ll need to talk it over with the others. I’m going to assume they don’t object, so meet us at the south exit in three and a half hours.”

Her eyes gleam. “Done. I won’t forget this, Ambassador.”

I’m
still
not used to being addressed like that. “Don’t thank me yet. We have klicks of enemy territory to cover, and then we still have to find a way off this rock.”

“You’re the kind of person who makes things happen,” she says.

Am I?

Just now I feel like I’m the world champion at waiting. Hit climbs to her feet and sets off, presumably to collect her gear. I sit and brood.

An hour later, March comes out of the tent, no surprises there. His expression doesn’t warm when he notices me. In fact, he looks mildly annoyed, but that might be projection more than accurate interpretation on my part.

“Jax.” He bends to greet me with a light kiss on the mouth. “You caught me just before I take another team out.”

“Forget that, let someone else do it. Say your good-byes and pack your stuff. We’re getting the hell out of here. Meet us at the south exit in two and a half hours.” I clamber to my feet and jerk my head toward the tunnel for emphasis.

His eyes go very dark and still. March studies me for a moment in silence, and then the saddest smile curves his lips. He takes my hands in his and seals a kiss into each palm. I can’t
feel
him at all; he hasn’t touched my mind in days, and the physical contact seems sharper in contrast.

“Good luck,” he says quietly.

Two words. How can two words make me feel like this?

For a moment, I can’t breathe for the bands tightening around my chest. My eyes sting. I tug my hands away from him and curl them into fists. Against my best efforts to wear a poker face, I feel the tears slipping down my cheeks.

“You don’t mean—” I try to say, but my voice comes out strange and strangled.

People passing by give us odd looks, and March tries to take my arm, draw me to a quieter place to talk.
Fuck that
. I jerk away and glare at him through blurry eyes, jaw clenched.

Say it here, damn you. Right now.

He offers an almost imperceptible nod. “I’m staying. I owe it to Mair’s memory,
and
the clan, after all they’ve done for me. They took me in, after I walked away from the merc life. And Mair asked me to look after Keri, when she was just ten years old. You don’t need me, Jax. Keri does. This is
my
war—I have the training, the experience, and I’ll make the difference between their survival and annihilation here. I have to see this through. But you don’t need my help getting to Ithiss-Tor; another pilot can get you there.”

So he’s cutting me loose. I raise my chin and wipe my face with the backs of my hands. In my heart, I know I’ve already lost him.

He’s going to die down here, and it’s killing me. I feel a scream building in my lungs, raw and angry. I don’t want him to become a martyr. I want him beside me.

No surprise when he reads me. I’m an open book where he’s concerned. His expression softens, and March pulls me into his arms. At first I resist on principle because the bastard is
leaving
me—

“No,” he whispers. “I’m not. You’ll see me again, I swear. This isn’t forever.”

Tears course down my cheeks. I squeeze them shut, but it doesn’t help. They don’t stop falling.

Because I don’t believe him. I know a good-bye when I feel one.

His mouth finds mine, blind and hungry. March hasn’t kissed me in days, but suddenly it’s like the only thing he knows how to do. Lips clinging, he tastes salty and bittersweet from my weeping. Again and again, until we gasp for air and lean our foreheads together.

Grief roars inside me. His breath stirs against my damp cheeks, and I try to memorize everything about this moment. How he feels against me, his scent, and the weight of his arms curled around my back.

I never thought he’d leave me. Whatever he thinks, I
do
need him. Just not in the way he wants. I can’t be someone other than I am; I can’t love him except the way I know how.

BOOK: Wanderlust
5.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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