Aftermath

“Just sick,” he clicks in reply.



Odd, I can detect his misery when we speak his native tongue. The vocalizer only offers a limited number of normal human inflections, so I wouldn’t be able to hear his distress or confusion like I can right now. It’s a low thrum that coats each intonation, and I feel it inside my head, more than hear it with my too-human ears.



Pushing up, I find my limbs are shaky. This pad is similar to the one Dace showed us, but the arch has crumbled, and these crystals are broken, unlit. Powdery fragments litter the ground, as if the power has been expelled in a tremendous burst.



“Anything I can do?” Crawling over to him, I check for obvious physical damage and find none.



“It will pass. I think.”



At his gesture, I rest beside him and wait for the shakes to abate. I’m a little queasy myself, as if my bits and pieces might not be connected in the same order in which they flew apart. I take stock in our surroundings; it’s a mirror of Mareq, only brighter and more colorful. The plants are more vibrant, blooms in rainbow hues sprouting from the canopy.



Eventually, I ask, “Better?” because he’s rummaging in his pack. Thank Mary it made the journey with us, or we’d really be fragged.



“Much.”



“Any idea where we are?”



“I suspect we activated a gate of some sort.”



Yeah, I’ve been thinking along those lines myself. “Wonder if Dace made up that omen stuff, if she meant to dump us here in revenge?”



“I do not believe so. She seemed sincere.”



Which means she thinks there’s something on this side of the gate we need to see. I recall she believed we’re akin to the ancients and the gods they worship. Maybe the ancients passed through these gates. Maybe we’ll find them. Despite the lingering sickness, that sends a thrill through me. A discovery like that is almost as awe-inspiring as charting a new beacon. In fact, you could argue there are certain similarities though we’re exploring a new world, not grimspace.



But close enough to delight my adrenaline-junkie soul.



“So what now?”



“The logical course would be to attempt to find some means of returning whence we came.”



“Too bad this gate’s broken.” I think maybe our passage overloaded it.



“Indeed.”



I push to my feet and offer Vel a hand up. He regards me for a long moment, then accepts my aid. That makes me feel good, despite the generally catastrophic nature of our situation. I can’t think when I’ve ever helped him, except, maybe, for those moments in the swamp where we sang for Adele together. It’s always been him saving me . . . and I’m not used to that.



He activates his handheld . . . or tries to. He clicks in disgust as he spins with the device, trying to coax a spark of life. Even I can tell it’s not working properly. There’s no response at all, just a dead, flat screen.



“That doesn’t bode well.”



“Check your comm,” he says.



I tap it, and nothing happens. No juice. No signal. Wherever we’ve gone, it’s far the hell enough away that our technology can’t keep up. Frag me, that’s terrifying. This is the farthest I’ve ever jumped, no question about it, and I didn’t even do it on purpose. I guess that sums up my life, when you come right down to it.



“You have to question what she thought this would accomplish,” I say, shaking my head.



“We are destined,” he repeats with a mocking twitch of his mandible. “It is written.”



But Mary, I’m relieved to see him finding humor in anything. He got so cold and distant after Gehenna, pulled back to a place where I couldn’t reach him. And that hurt because he’s mine. The connection between us makes no sense on the surface; you’d think I would drive him crazy.



“Funny. In the absence of functional technology, I’m thinking we can only guess which way to go. Unless you have some idea?” I eye him hopefully.



Unfortunately, he shakes his head. “This is all new to me though I think it may become quite an adventure. Provided we survive it.”



“There is that.” I turn in a slow circle, studying the slant of the light, the way the trees are growing, and the tilt of the plants. “If my old science lessons can be believed, then the sun sets that way.”



“Your recommendation?”



I shrug. “Hell, I don’t know. If anyone was monitoring this gate, they’d have come to see about us by now, wouldn’t they?”



“I would think so.”



“But there has to be a working gate somewhere, doesn’t there? This can’t be the only one.”



Vel appears thoughtful. “I surmise that they used these gates for transportation, and if that is the case, then it is only logical to deduce that the star-walkers to whom Dace referred required more than one access point.”



“Do you have any clue how we might find one?”



“Not without working tech, Sirantha.”



Dammit. I feared as much. If we had the capability to scan the area, he could pinpoint energy signatures, and we’d head that way. Unfortunately, our gizmos are fried for the time being. We’ll have to be clever.



“Let’s look,” I say with grim determination. “There has to be way back where we came from.”



“If so, we shall find it.” His calm, as ever, reassures me and makes it possible for me to take the first step of what might be a thousand-kilometer journey.



[Vid-mail from March, arrived on the four-day bounce]



Still haven’t found him. As I feared, they deleted all references to Svet in the records, which means they’re screening male students of appropriate age at all the training academies, a process slowed by the fact that many of these kids still have parents, but they’re buried in bureaucratic layers. It takes a ridiculously long time to get a straight answer about a student’s status, let alone whether he’s a candidate for genetic testing.



I’m telling myself to be patient, but it’s hard—and complicated by the fact that people remember me here. I’ve deflected four attacks now, but I didn’t kill any of the hitters. I turned them over to the Nicuan imperial guard. How do you convince people you’ve changed when they’re trying to stick a knife in your neck?



You’re not on the bounce anymore, so until I hear from you, I won’t know where you are, or what you’re doing. I sent this message to your barrister and asked her to forward. I assume you’ve left your comm code. I’m sorry we’re out of touch, but I’m including my new code here. I’ve taken an apartment in the capital while the officials deal with my request. So strange to find myself living here of all places. It doesn’t feel like home, but you are home.



Hon and Loras have moved on. I didn’t expect them to stick around, though. Hon’s got itchy feet, but now I’m very much alone in this. I know I chose this course, but it’s odd how alone you can feel, surrounded by people. This is a huge city by any standards, and there’s nobody here who gives a damn about me.



I’m afraid of forgetting how you feel in my arms; I’m afraid I dreamed you. I play that message you left before you jumped from Venice Minor sometimes, and I see how much you love me. But unless I’m watching your face, it gets hard to remember how we are together, if it can be as good as I remember.



Reply soon, Jax.



[message ends]



CHAPTER 25



The jungle sprawls around us like a carnivorous plant. Strange noises, chattering and growling, echo within the dense undergrowth, making me feel like predators lurk all around us. I glance back at Vel, braced for the worst.



“Do our weapons work?”



We should’ve checked that first thing. He digs into his pack and brings out a shockstick and laser pistol; neither will power up. I take the former and shove it through my belt, as we both know it’s better than nothing. Without the shock aspect, it can still be used as a baton or a club, and I’m trained in its use for close combat. He has his twin, curved blades, which require no juice at all, and he’s deadly with them. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Probably.



“Transport shorted out all our devices.”



“Can you fix them?”



He spreads his claws in an I don’t know gesture. “I would need a clean, dry place to disassemble them and assess the damage. If replacement parts or wiring is required to affect said repairs, then no, not unless we locate salvage.”



Glancing around at the impenetrable wall of greenery, that doesn’t seem too likely here, wherever here is. I wish I knew whether we’re still on Marakeq or if we’ve gone elsewhere entirely. That would be the difference between teleportation and a gate between ’verses. The former would be amazing enough, especially discovered on a class-P world. Humans have been unable to perfect that technology, despite finding snippets of ancient schematics. The closest we’ve come is the disruptor, which scrambles the molecules in the body for a hideous death.



As for the latter, I’ve speculated that other realities might exist, but it’s never been proven. Until now, maybe. Of course, delivering that evidence depends on us getting home. Maybe people passed over before; they just never found their way back.



March. Shit. If I don’t return, he’ll think I left him for good and with no explanations, no good-byes. Surely he’ll know I’d never do that of my own free will—just disappear on him. Urgency possesses me, and I quicken my step, bounding over spiky-leafed plants. Vines writhe on the ground, snapping at my ankles, likely attached to some sentient flora.



Running doesn’t solve anything, though. It just makes me tired, and when I finally have no more breath, and stop, panting, we’re still in the middle of this Mary-forsaken jungle. So far, nothing has attacked us, but I sense things stirring in the undergrowth, circling us to determine our weaknesses. Fear percolating anew, I spin to face Vel. He’s already got his twin blades in hand, so I guess he feels it, too.



“Back to back, Sirantha. We are about to meet our first natives.”



Without speaking, I ready my weapon and fall in behind him. I’d feel better if I had the live hum for insurance; as it is, we must win this fight on skill and strength. Monsters burst out of the bushes from all sides. I have only seconds to take in an impression of green mottled fur, razor-sharp talons, and long, yellow teeth. There are holes where their ears ought to be, and their eyes are oddly placed. They’re also convinced we’re their next meal.



Not today.



Four of them, which means taking two at once. My time in prison has left me stronger than ever, even more than when I graduated as a combat jumper, and I haven’t forgotten any of my training. In a way, it feels good to have an enemy I can fight instead of the tide of public opinion or a jury’s good graces. When the first one lunges at me, I crack it soundly across the skull with my shockstick, a two- handed swing. If I had any juice, the thing would be twitching on the ground, its nervous system blown to hell. Instead, the beast reels back with a high-pitched sound.



Dark fluid trickles from its maw, brown-black, much darker than human blood. The viscosity is different too, stickier, more like tree sap. Could these creatures be evolved from the native flora? Shit, that’s not fur. It’s . . . moss. I don’t have time to ponder as it communicates with its hunting partner, and they both dive at me at once. I counter with another hard swing and a snap kick aimed at the vulnerable throat.