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Authors: Ann Aguirre

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BOOK: Wanderlust
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Too bad Lady Luck’s so often a bitch.

Watching Jael daub himself, I can definitely tell he’s used it before. His hands practically blur in the speed of the motions. “We all set?”

“How come he doesn’t have to use it?” Hit jerks her head toward Vel.

Who manages an approximation of a smile. He’s getting better at pretending to be human. “Because I am special, of course.”

He ignores her pissed-off exclamation as he goes to work on the electronic lock. Right now the display shows red. If it requires a ret-scan or a handprint, we are utterly screwed.

Or not.

Vel slips on a clear synthetic glove, pulls the tips tight, and lays his palm on the panel. The AI intones, “Thank you, Dr. Solaith. Clearance granted.”

The light flashes green, and the heavy door swings wide. That hint of a breeze we’ve been feeling for a while turns into a gust. I drink it in without minding the chill racing over me. It’s still winter, a lot of darkness and short daylight hours.

“He was kind enough to let me borrow his fingerprints before we left,” Vel says as he steps out.

Tentatively, we follow suit, single file, coming up against what seems to be a rockslide. We sidle past the narrow gap, and for a moment, I’m afraid Dina will have to leave the sled. I don’t know how the hell we’ll carry her.

Without a word, she straps herself in, lowers the back so she’s fully horizontal. She tests the strength of her belts and then flips to vertical. Her fingers seem sure on the buttons.

“I’m fine,” she says, when Hit tries to help guide the sled. “I got this.”

Now and then she scrapes the stone, throwing sparks, but she manages. I admire her so damn much. But her face is taut with tension by the time we step out onto the hillside.

“You okay?” I step closer as she switches the sled back to chair configuration.

“I gotta get out of this thing,” she tells me, jaw set. “Or I’ll kill somebody.”

“You will,” I promise. “Get out of it, I mean. I’ll help. The killing probably depends on how much they piss you off.”

I want to say more, but this isn’t the time. We need to move. For just a moment, though, I tip my head back, glorying in the icy stars.

From this higher vantage, I see that the clansmen piled those rocks before the opening to make it look like a natural formation. They did a good job concealing their escape route; I’ll give them that. But it’s not as impregnable as they thought. It’s compromised now, full of dying McCulloughs and hungry monsters.

Mary, I hope March makes it out of there. I touch the ring on my finger out of superstition, faith, or some awkward marriage between the two. In an effort to push back the pain trying to drown me, I suck in several deep, gulping breaths of cold air.

He’s
my
pilot, and I have to fly without him soon.

Jumpers aren’t made for this.

I expected to emerge amid the wreckage of the Gunnar-Dahlgren compound, but we’ve surfaced well away from there. No broken machinery, no rubble. No signs of bombardment. There are just barren hills, riddled with signs of the honeycomb caverns that house the Teras.

The open worries me more than the tunnels. Down there we could control the approach, limit how many could get at us. Up here we’re free targets, dinner afoot.

“No running,” Vel cautions again. “We have no way of knowing how the Teras interpret rapid footfalls or how far sound travels through the caverns.”

“Do our best to step lightly,” I say. “Check.”

The bounty hunter pauses a moment to check the readings, and then adds, “This way. We need to get as far from here as we can before daylight.”

“Why?” I ask before Hit gets the chance, and she acknowledges it with a grin. I really like her. She’s competent, confident, and doesn’t accept things at face value.

If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m missing March like a lost limb—glad I didn’t say that aloud, or Dina would hurt me—I’d even be glad to have Hit as my new pilot. I’m just not ready to make her part of me.

But when am I ever?

“Because there’s a storm coming.” Vel flashes his handheld.

The merc sighs. “Looks like a lot of snow. We don’t have nearly enough survival gear to handle that. We need to find a ship and fast. All right, people, forced march, double time.”

We fall in behind Vel in twos, Dina and Hit, then Jael and me. I hate how he won’t leave my side now, as if trying to make up for his prior lack of vigilance. I’m too tired to care at this point or work up any rancor. I just wish he’d leave me alone.

“Damn, it’s cold.” I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until I see his smirk.

“You should really keep a coat in that pack.”

“You should really fuck off and die.”

“Then who’ll save your ass when you panic over a bit of barbecue?”

I give the response my most withering tone. “The next monkey Tarn hires. See, that’s my gift. Being the last one standing.”

“If everyone you give a shit about is gone, sounds more like a curse.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 38

He gets it.

That startles me. I don’t offer confirmation that he’s right, though. I don’t want to talk.

But yeah, some days it does seem more like a curse, just like that guy from mythology who doesn’t die, who’s destined to wander and suffer. But I can’t sustain that level of mental melodrama.

Pure physical discomfort edges out such self-pity. I can’t even find the energy to fret about working with Hit, or how the next jump will affect my condition. I know Doc doesn’t want me to jump, but he should’ve cut off my arm if he wanted to prevent me from jacking in.

Nothing else will keep me from grimspace. Even now, the siren song makes me feel itchy with need. The colors, the feeling that comes howling through me as my mind expands. I need to be there like I need nothing else.

More than March even. I’m sure he knows that. That’s what happens when you love a junkie.

As we walk, clouds blot out the shimmer of the stars overhead. The storm Vel predicted appears to be rolling in on schedule, and as the wind kicks up, it goes right through me. You’d think I’d have remembered how cold it is here, though to be fair, I didn’t realize I’d never be returning to the ship.

I feel like a prisoner of war.

We can’t stop moving, but I can barely put one foot in front of the other. I hate this weakness. Though I feel better than I did on Emry, I’m a long way from full strength. The others seem to be bearing up all right. Up ahead, I hear the low susurration of voices: Dina and Hit, getting to know each other.

As always, Vel leads the way in silence. Though I count him among my closest friends, I don’t know much about him. That’s not likely to change while we forge a desperate path through these hills.

Up and down we climb, avoiding scout droids, McCullough patrols, and, of course, the Teras, who will swarm and devour us if they catch our scent. But between the liquid skin and Thermud, we’ve taken as many precautions against that outcome as we can. My thighs and calves burn, taut as drawn wire.

Add that to various aches, including a stabbing pain where Jael landed on me, and I’d give just about anything to lie down. Of course I suspect I’d never get up again. I didn’t realize how soft I’d gotten, but a jumper’s life
is
well padded.

“You holding up all right?” Jael asks, well after I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been walking.

“Does it matter?” I mumble.

I don’t see how we’ll be in any shape to steal a ship once we finally get there. But we can’t pitch camp in the open, and a cavern in these hills would be worse.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’m just making small talk.”

“I have a better idea.
No
talk. That’s been working like a charm for hours.”

The bounty hunter glances back at me. In this light, his faux-human skin looks a little mottled. It’s probably time for him to slough it off and grow new, but he won’t do that while he needs the insulation.

“Sirantha, it will serve no purpose if you become ill.” With an annoyed sound, he delves into his pack and fishes out a tissue-thin insulated suit, maybe the same one I wore on the Teresengi Basin.

It’s not
that
cold, but I scramble into it. I hope my body heat, thus trapped, will warm me up soon. I wince in anticipation because when the feeling returns, it’s going to hurt.

Ahead, Dina asks Vel, “How much farther?”

She isn’t asking out of weariness or personal discomfort. Shit, now I know what the lights at the base of her sled mean. They’ve all dimmed but two. If we don’t find a power source before that last light goes out, she’ll be stranded.

“Four kilometers due west from here,” Vel answers. “We’ll find a hangar.”

Like the one where we landed the first time instead of going directly to the compound. They’re maintained by droids and bots, officially independent of clan allegiance. Merchant ships often put down there when they have to deliver supplies on planet to multiple stops; it forestalls accusations of partisan dealings.

I nearly crack my jaw with a yawn. Four kilometers. Under optimum conditions in the training room, I
ran
that without breaking a sweat.

That was a long time, another lifetime, ago.

Far be it for me to question the leadership that’s gotten us this far, but . . . well, someone has to. “What if no ships are docked there?”

They don’t tend to stay long between dirtside deliveries anyway. Plus, the recent unrest on Lachion will have made some merchant vessels reluctant to risk it. Things won’t return to normal here for a while, though weapons vendors may try their luck. They always do a brisk trade on Nicuan.

“Why borrow trouble?” Jael shakes his head and sighs.

“I never
borrow
it. That implies it wasn’t mine to start with.”

“It’s a good question,” Hit puts in quietly. “And I’d like it answered.”

Perhaps it’s simply the hollow hills, but in the silence that follows, the wind carries in a dolorous howl. I imagine wild animals just beyond my line of sight, less terrible than the Teras, but just as hungry. How do the clans survive such a savage world, so far from city lights and the safety of space?

“I do not know,” Vel says at last. By Jael’s astonished look, he didn’t expect that answer either. We wait, hoping there’s more. “If nothing else, we will find a secure place to rest and bounce a message to New Terra. The McCulloughs cannot attack us on neutral territory without breaching seven interstellar accords.”

I don’t like the thought of waiting for rescue when anything can go wrong and usually does. As if in response, the first delicate snowflakes drift down, stick and shimmer in Hit’s dark hair. She brushes them away and spins to see the white curtain coming down. Soon this winter loveliness will sting.

“At least I’ll be able to charge this thing.” Dina slaps the side of the sled and then tips her head back to study the sky. “But I think we need to pick up the pace.”

“Got that right.” Beside me, Jael breaks into a jog that looks disgustingly effortless. “Don’t fall behind, Jax.”

He should be exhausted by now, scruffy and unshaven. Instead he’s just bloodstained and dirty like the rest of us. I don’t see weariness in his eyes, just a stupidly teasing light, like this is some big adventure.

Well, maybe to him, it is. Maybe Jael has endless reserves, thanks to his Bred heritage. I know he can heal from wounds that would kill anyone else.

As for me, I miss March, and I want a shower. I wouldn’t say no to some of the perks that an ambassador is reputed to receive. Thus far, I’ve gotten nothing but murder attempts out of my time on the job.

With a scowl, I raise my knees and force myself to run. Each jolt over rocky ground sends a shock of pain down my side. No problem. I’ll just pretend this is the training room, and I’m in peak form. No injury, no illness.

Shit, if I can do all that, why don’t I just
wish
us off this rock?

When Dina accelerates, the second-to-last light flickers and blinks out. Hope that single cell has enough juice to take her four kilometers. Vel doesn’t let her pass him, though. He increases his own rate of movement to stay a meter ahead of us.

I don’t know how he monitors his handheld and keeps an eye on the horizon at the same time. It must be an Ithtorian gift because I would’ve tripped over my own feet by now. He keeps one eye on each object, something humans just can’t do.

The snow falls heavier with each passing moment. In a way it’s good because it’ll cover our tracks. Thanks to the Thermud, that also means we’re five dark figures streaking over a white hillside and down into the valley.

Nothing but open plains from here on out.

Our “camouflage” makes us easier to spot, so I hope no McCulloughs lie between us and the hangar. The snow stings, catching in my lashes and numbing the visible portion of my face. Though I’m not the praying sort, I cycle certain thoughts in a mantra timed to my racing heart.

Please let there be a ship.

Please let us get there safely.

Please let Dina’s sled hold out.

Whether I’m entreating Mother Mary or Lady Luck herself, I couldn’t say. I just know when the building looms up out of the storm, blocky and ugly as an old Gehenna whore, I’ve never been so glad to see anything in my life.

Because I don’t think I can go another step.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 39

BOOK: Wanderlust
6.69Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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