Killbox

So I drag myself to the cockpit, time and again. For the last ten days, we’ve gone from fight to fight, and the ship is limping. The constant repairs have been hard on her, and we don’t have Dina on board to work her usual magic. Torrance is doing his best, but he doesn’t have the skill or experience to keep up long term.



The good news is, more Armada ships have joined us on patrol, fully upgraded. The Dauntless arrived first, and Hon’s jumper, Jory, handles the new direct-jump technology like a pro. She stays with me every step of the way. It gives me strength to glance out the view screen and see them pacing us. We’re not in this alone anymore.



We try to stay within one satellite bounce of our next target, however, which means raiders can wreak havoc in other parts of the universe. Unfortunately, we can’t worry about smugglers and pirates anymore. My mother must be thrilled.



During one of my rare down moments, I’m lying on my bunk, arms beneath my head, when the door bot announces: “You have a visitor, LC Jax.”



No nap, I guess. “Allow entry.”



To my surprise, it’s Rose. She steps inside, looking hesitant, but I can see grief shadowing her gaze. The time on the Triumph has aged her, put new lines on her face.



“Sorry to bother you,” she says. “But I don’t have anyone else.”



Her stark tone makes me sit up at once. “Everything all right?”



She shakes her head, sinking into a chair near my terminal. “No. And it hasn’t been for the longest time.”



“What happened?” I fold myself in the lotus position, preparing to listen.



It takes her a moment to compose herself. “I went to the med lab, intending to bring Saul some food. I hadn’t seen him at meals for days.”



Uh-oh. I keep my face impassive. “Maybe he was working?”



Mary knows, between finding a cure for Loras and postulating long-term effects of my various implants could keep him busy for turns. Somehow, I don’t think competing with genetic data has her so upset, though.



“Not so that I could see.”



“What did you see?”



“He was holding her.” Anguish bleeds through her flat tone and finds an echo in her trembling chin.



I can see she wants to cry, but I don’t want her to get started because then I won’t know what to do with her. We’re not close enough for me to comfort her, not that I’m generally any good at it even when such emotional ties are present. I picture myself thumping her on the shoulder while saying, “It will be all right.” No, we have to avoid that scenario. No tears; therefore, I need to keep her talking.



“Were they celebrating some accomplishment?” I ask lamely.



She raises a bleak gaze to mine. “Would you do that by nestling someone close and stroking her hair?”



I have to admit, “That doesn’t sound like a happy, way-to-go hug.”



“It wasn’t. He was comforting her, I think.”



“Maybe that’s all it was. You should talk to him about it. Tell him how you feel.” Unfortunately, that’s all I can offer her.



I don’t think Doc is the kind of guy who’d play fast and loose, but sometimes the heart can surprise us. Maybe he loves them both. Or maybe he doesn’t realize how this looks; he suffers from tunnel vision sometimes.



“You’re right,” she murmurs. “I know you’re right. But I’m afraid of hearing how he feels in return.”



“You think his feelings have changed.”



“Maybe.” A jerky nod. “Yes. She’s perfect for him, after all. They can share everything. She’s young and clever, educated and—”



“Not you. The two of you have weathered worse, right? Don’t write him off without letting him explain.”



Giving relationship advice when I’m not even allowed to touch the man I love strikes me as rather backward, but I do want to help her. She has no close friends on board, just acquaintances from Lachion who were mad to get off world, and I have the feeling she never would’ve left home if not for Doc.



“If by ‘weather’ you mean his going away and my waiting, then yes. We have.”



“Talk to him? Please?”



She seems reluctant, but by the time we’ve sipped through two cups of hot choclaste, she agrees it’s the best course. When Rose leaves, she is dry-eyed and full of resolve. I don’t envy her the coming conversation.



Thus denied my nap, I gaze at the comm, tempted. As lieutenant commander, I can access any public vid com and listen in. Generally, I don’t because it’s boring and banal. March can as well, but hell, he can do it without technology. I’m sure he skims now and then, making sure morale is high without intruding on personal privacy.



It takes me all of two minutes to lose the fight. This has personal bearing on me, I tell myself. Rose brought the concern to me. I should follow up.



Feeling guilty, I input my command codes and hijack the vid com in med bay. I won’t follow them elsewhere if they seek greater privacy. That’s a reasonable compromise, right? The fact is, I’m dead nosy, and now I have the power to indulge myself.



For a few moments, it just shows me Doc and Evelyn working at various stations. I don’t see any evidence of intimacy; but they can’t go around canoodling all the time, or they wouldn’t ever get any work done. Then the door swishes open, showing Rose on the other side.



She went straight to him. Good for her.



Doc turns to greet her with an absent smile. No kiss. There’s strike one. Stupid man. I narrow my eyes at the screen.



“May I speak to you in private?” she asks without preamble.



To her credit, Evelyn straightens from her work, taking the cue at once. “I’ll head down to the mess for a bite to eat.”



Then it’s just Doc and Rose. He looks perplexed, setting aside some samples with a faint crease of his brow. “Is something wrong? Are you ill?”



And there’s strike two, implying she needs to be sick to come see you.



“No. I just think we need to talk.”



“Can it wait?” I wince. That was beyond clumsy. Sometimes there’s so much scientist in him, I’m surprised it left any room for Rose at all. “I’m on the verge of—”



“No, it can’t,” she says firmly.



He folds his arms. Defensive posture, not good. It hints at a guilty conscience at worst, or impatience, at best. “You have my complete attention.”



“I’m going to ask straight-out, Saul. Is there something between you and Evelyn?” Rose fixes her gaze on his, and I can see her intensity from here.



“Why in Mary’s name would you think that? I’m sorry if you feel neglected, but we’re at war, Rose. Certain sacrifices must be made.”



Wrong. That was the wrong answer in so many ways that I can’t even list them all. She needed an immediate, emphatic denial. Maybe he’s legitimately bewildered by the suggestion, but answering a question with a question smacks of prevarication. As for the rest, well, he dismissed her feelings as minor pique. Funny how such a smart man can act like such an idiot.



“It’s not about my feelings, at least not entirely. Because I saw you with her, two days past.”



If I wasn’t watching closely, I might have missed the way he stiffens. “What did you see?”



Son of a bitch. You just broke her heart, Doc.



She deflates, her bravado replaced with defeat. “Ah. I won’t keep you further.”



“Rose, wait!” But he’s too late. She’s out of med bay and running. Doc lingers in the doorway for a moment, as if pondering whether to chase her.



Yes, go, I urge him silently.



I see the moment he decides it will be better to let her cool off before he pleads his case, offering his excuse for that embrace. Certainly, that’s the logical course. He goes back into med bay and returns to work. Mary, but I’d like to smack him.



That’s not my purview, though, and I’ve snooped enough. I don’t want to know what he says to Evelyn when she returns. I don’t want to see what comes next. So I turn off the feed.



Before I settle back on my bunk, the comm beeps, delivering March’s voice. “LC to the cockpit.”



Stifling a curse, I head off to another fight.



.CLASSIFIED-TRANSMISSION.



.UNREST.



.FROM-SUNI_TARN.



.TO-EDUN_LEVITER.



.ENCRYPT-DESTR UCT-ENABLED.



It has been too long since I heard from you.



Worry eats at me. I fear that all we have done, for all your great craft, is not enough. The Syndicate vanquished is a great boon, but they were not the true threat. We move too slowly, weighted with a history of error and indecision.



A dark army gathers overhead, and I do not know if I have the wherewithal to drive it back. What right have I to ask other men to die for me while I talk? Such endless talk.



So many futures hang in the balance. I am not worthy of this charge.



Where are you? What news of the gray men?



My intel from other sources indicates there is a new threat rising. The Morgut come in great swarms, and there are rumors—well, they are too dreadful to contemplate. We are not ready. Dear Leviter, we are not ready. We need the gray men. We need the promised ships from our allies. You own the grease that makes such colossal wheels turn at your whim.



What can we do? You say you always keep your word, and I pray that is so. Mary grant that you have not abandoned us, finding another face and another shadow from which to weave your webs. Would you be a hero in our darkest hour? Come, if you are alive and able, I beg you. You are needed.



.END-TRANSMISSION.



CHAPTER 51



Putting Doc and Rose out of my mind, I go at a run. Crisis mode is normal these days. On the way, I pass crew members who salute when they recognize me. I spot Drake among them, so I call, “Head for medical. Doc might need a hand before we’re through.”



“Are we headed for action, then?”



“Think so,” I answer over my shoulder.



March looks tired. I notice that much in his eyes before the walls come up between us. The expression I caught on him beforehand will have to hold me for a while—that and the feel of his fingers brushing over my bare skin.



Miss you. I whisper it in the silence of my own head, knowing he won’t hear me. He’s promised not to touch while we’re thus separated, and for the most part, he’s kept his word. I’m trying not to mind that he can.



The cockpit is positively commodious, compared to some we’ve shared. Before we left, Dina overhauled everything, and the instruments positively shine. At this point, I’ve spent so much time in here, I could do this in my sleep.



I slide into the nav chair and glance at March. “What’s our target?” I could check the coordinates myself, but I figure he’s already done so.



“Venice Minor.”



Shock spikes through me. The last time I was there, my mother was holding me hostage, trying to destroy any chance of alliance with Ithiss-Tor. It’s a beautiful planet, rich in natural resources and with a lush ecosystem. I hate the thought of a Morgut occupation, but there’s plenty to eat on world, not just humans. As ultimate carnivores, they don’t subsist solely on us; they just like how we taste.