Killbox

I realize March isn’t alone. Most likely I should stride up and announce myself—that, or back away before they know I’m here. But when I hear Hon’s bass rumble in response, I decide I’m going to do neither. Instead, I slip a little closer and lean against the wall, waiting for March to answer.



“Sometimes, it’s like I think she’ll be back.”



“It’s hard,” Hon says. “Back on DuPont, I didn’t know. I would’ve said something. She was a good kid, your sister. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to Shan.”



That strikes a chord. I remember the glass dancer from Hon’s Kingdom, a woman Hon didn’t introduce me to. Though she doesn’t favor the pirate, they share the same aura of absolute confidence. It makes sense he wouldn’t want his enemies to know about her; she’s a weakness. I wonder where she is now.



March makes a wry sound. “I know. But it wasn’t like I was going to come in on a line like, ‘Be nice to me for a change; I’m bereaved.’ ”



Hon laughs. “For a change? Who mistreats who again?”



“Frankly, I figure we’re about even.”



“I guess so. You said . . .” Hon’s tone gains a delicacy I wouldn’t have credited. “You want to talk about her?”



“It’s more accurate to say I want to hear you talk about her. Tell me everything you know.” Longing fills his voice—and I understand now how he feels about Kai. Oh, it’s not the same kind of love; I understand that, but for the first time, I grasp fully that there’s a hole in him I can never completely fill.



“Well, I never took her to my bed, so there’s a limit to how accurate I can be.” I can hear the smile in the pirate’s voice.



A thwack as March hits him.



“All right, I’ll tell you a story, man. She was a pretty thing. Looked nothing like you, bless her. I remember thinking you had to be joking me when you first introduced us, that there was no way you could be related to a fair little kitty like that.”



“Don’t call my sister that,” March warns him.



“You want the story, you get my words.”



I figure they’re exchanging looks right about now, testing who’s the most serious, but in the end, March agrees, “Fine.”



“As I was saying . . . I’ll confess now, once I tried to score her, but she knew your friends, and she was having none of it.”



“You tried for my sister?” March sputters, torn between outrage and amusement that Svet shut him down.



Now I wish I’d met her. Small, fair? Does that mean blond? At any point, I could’ve called up a picture from Farwan’s records. I don’t know why I didn’t, except that perhaps until this moment, Svetlana didn’t seem quite real to me. Setting my handheld on mute, I tap a few commands and access the records via the station satellite uplink.



Within seconds, I have an image: heart-shaped face, mouth curved into a gentle smile, and eyes of a shade that wavers between blue and green. Warm, shallow seas have water like that. I can see nothing of March in her, but I know he loved her.



“After that,” Hon continues, “I made point of looking out for her whenever I was on Gehenna. I stopped by that place she worked, two or three times a trip. We got to be friends, but don’t go telling that around.”



“Of course not.”



“Most of all I remember she liked shiny things. Didn’t matter if it cost ten credits or ten thousand; she loved the sparkle. Sometimes I’d bring her back a little something, just to see that smile. No strings,” he hastened to add, doubtless forestalling March’s wrath.



March lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. I’ve got a bagful of stuff I never gave her. I kept thinking I’d surprise her, then I’d take another tour working for some Nicuan asshole. It was always going to be, ‘Just one more, and I’ll be set. I can get a ship and get Svet out of there.’ ”



My legs are aching, so I shift quietly. I hadn’t realized his guilt went quite so deep, but I should have. He blames himself for everything, even when it doesn’t make sense. Thankfully, Hon is on his game.



“You can’t beat yourself up over that. You didn’t make her turn to Farwan when she got in trouble.”



Wait, what? What trouble?



That’s exactly what March wants to know. “What’re you talking about?”



The pirate inhales sharply, and I can hear his chair rock back, a nervous shift. “I saw Svet for the last time on Gehenna, maybe five turns back. She didn’t know about our contretemps on Nicu Tertius, so she still had a smile for me.”



“And?” March demands.



“She was with child, man. I thought you knew.”



CHAPTER 15



There’s a crash from within the room, and I figure that’s my cue. Pushing away from the wall, I head for the lounge at a dead run, and when I come in, I find March on the verge of pounding Hon’s face in. Probably out of respect for March’s shock, the pirate isn’t fighting back, but he’s not going to take a beating docilely, nor should he.



“Let him go.” My tone brooks no refusal, but I’m still a little surprised when he listens to me. “Now, you two want to tell me what this is all about?”



March spares me a scathing glance. “Cut the crap, Jax. Do you really think I don’t know anytime you’re nearby?”



I hadn’t, actually. I didn’t realize his Psi worked in that way. Sheepish, I duck my head and shrug. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”



“Better to spy,” he growls.



But I know he’s just angry, not necessarily with me.



“Let’s sit down and talk about this.” I put my words into practice.



Hon straightens and gives March a narrow-eyed look. “You go after me again, for any reason, and I’m outta here, bwoy.”



“I’m sorry,” March says grudgingly. “I was just . . .”



“Shocked?” I supply, when it becomes obvious his clenched jaw it makes it hard for him to speak.



“What else can you tell me?” he asks at length.



Hon spreads his palms in a universal gesture. “Nothing. I never saw her again. Later, I heard she went to work for Farwan.”



“Why didn’t I know?” March whispers, looking inward.



“So you don’t know what happened to the child.” She might’ve lost it or had the pregnancy terminated.



“No.” The pirate seems sorry, but he’s telling the truth. There’s no satisfaction in Hon at leveling March like this, which raises him in my estimation. “I think you two have some things to talk about. I’m gone.” So saying, he makes good on the words and slides out of the lounge.



March buries his face in his hands, and though it’s late, I take the precaution of securing the door. I don’t want anyone else listening in like I did. Do as I say, not as I do.



Coming up behind him, I sink my hands into his hair, shaping my fingers to his skull. The warmth feels good, and he rubs his head against me like a big cat.



“Why didn’t she tell me?” he asks.



“I don’t know. Where were you, five turns ago?”



His jaw tightens. “Lachion. Mair had me on the road to recovery by then, but I hadn’t earned off-world privileges yet. She didn’t trust me not to return to Nicu Tertius.”



Mair was Keri’s grandmother, and the onetime leader of the Gunnar clan. She had saved March’s sanity—and possibly his life—when her Rodeisian second, Tanze, stole Hon’s ship with March aboard. Instead of just ending him, she’d worked to heal him and turn him from a ruthless killer to a decent human being. Being Psi had driven all the empathy out of him from years of unshielded exposure to people’s worst natures. When you’re fed nothing but ugliness, that’s all you have to give back.



“That’s why, then,” I say aloud. “She couldn’t get in touch with you.”



“Whose fault is that?” he rages. “While she was growing up, I spent more time away than I did with her. And when she needed me most, I wasn’t there, either.”



Mary, this is going to bury him. I lean down and press my cheek against the top of his head. In answer, he tips his face back, arms curling around me from an awkward angle.



“I think you’re asking the wrong questions,” I say softly.



“Oh?”



“You can’t help Svet. There’s nothing you can do for her now, and it doesn’t matter why she acted as she did. You can’t impact that.”



“So what should I be asking instead?” Anyone else might be surprised to see him look to me for guidance; I’m the only one he’d let see him like this.



“What happened to her baby.”



“Mother Mary,” he swears, bolting to his feet. “Is it possible?”



By his expression, he’s ready to take the ship and leave right now. I stay him with a hand on his arm. He looks at me, muscles coiled.



“There’s nothing we can do tonight,” I tell him, hating that it’s so. “Put Constance on the problem, and maybe she’ll have an answer in the morning. In the meantime, maybe you can look at this as a good thing?”



He considers, then shakes his head. “I can’t see it.”



“If you can find him . . . or her, this child will be like having a little of Svetlana back again. You won’t be completely bereft of family anymore.”



His arms enfold me then. “I’m not, Jax.”



Well, I’m not sure if we could call ourselves family. After all, we’re not married, and I don’t want to be. That didn’t work out so well the first time, and I have enough of Kai left in me that promises kept through desire mean more to me than those imposed by law.



We stand like that for another moment before I pull back. “Do we have a berth here, or should we head for the ship?”



“The ship,” he says.



That’s right; the kids are sleeping on the station.



As we walk, I fill him in on everything I’ve accomplished. Though he’s still obviously distracted, he agrees the uniform is a step in the right direction. Knowing he won’t get any sleep until I do, once we reach our quarters, I ping Constance one last time. How did we ever get along without her?



“Can you do me a favor?” Pointless—it’s not like she can say no.



“Of course, Sirantha Jax. What do you need?”



“Can you do some digging on Svetlana March? She signed with Farwan . . .” I glance at March, who supplies the date.



That’s when it occurs to me. March must be his last name. I’ve been with him this long, and I don’t even know his name? The absurdity amuses me.



“Find out if there are any records of her giving birth. You may have to search a lot of different databases, so we understand if it takes time.”



“Does this take precedence over the compilation of suitable manufacturers?”



I don’t even need to look at March to answer. “Yes. The sooner you can tell us, the better off we’ll be.”