Wanderlust

“Fine,” Keller says. “I’m sorry, all right? I had nothing to do with that. It was all Jewel. If Suraya will just let me go, we can get under way, all nice and peaceful, and then you can take it up with him in person. That’s a rare honor, you know. He seldom participates in face-to-face meets anymore.”



“Too many people trying to kill him?” Hit asks, butter smooth. “Now, before I step back,” she adds, “I’m going to need your word as a gentleman that there will be no reprisals. I don’t want your boys coming in on me while I sleep.”



“Yeah, I want a guarantee of safe passage for me and my crew,” I add.



“Is your friend sick?” the goon beside Vel asks.



I shake my head quickly. “No. It’s just a skin condition.”



He really needs to molt.



“You have my word,” Keller growls.



Personally I don’t give two shits for his sworn vow, written in blood, but Hit seemed to want to hear it. In a feline motion, she drops back a few meters. Keller blots the sweat from his forehead with his forearm.



One of the goons says, “Can I—”



“No,” Keller snaps. “We have a deal, and we need this truce to hold, unless you want to die in your sleep.”



Damn, I’m glad Hit’s on our side. If she is. As it stands, I think we need to find out more about this Madame Kang.



Both his boys mutter, “Yes, boss,” as they head back up the ramp.



“Everyone on board before this Mary-sucking storm grounds us,” Keller adds.



Well, since he put it that way, we collect Dina and follow as fast as we can.



* * *



CHAPTER 41



Their pilot is good.



Despite adverse atmospheric factors, our departure goes smooth as s-silk. I’ve never been on a ship like this one. Instead of worn fittings, scarred and grimy conduits covered by mismatched panels, and ratty seats, everything looks brand-new. They went the extra mile and outfitted the public areas with a high-quality synth that gleams like mahogany.



With its burgundy s-leather chairs, the hub looks more like a swanky executive lounge than where the crew straps in for a jump. Even the safety harnesses manage to look decorative. At first I’m afraid to touch anything, and then I realize I don’t care because I’m not paying for it.



Dina drops down and puts her head back. “I’ll wait here for jump.”



I’m glad, because watching her struggle breaks my heart. We pause by our assigned rooms and drop off our stuff. Then the rest of us continue learning the lay of the land.



I notice how the light fixtures shine with gilt trim. And droids going about their business have an ultrasleek look, including the cleaning bots. This is a star-class vessel, sold to those with credit ratings I can’t even imagine.



It’s about time we got a break. I’m not sure this qualifies, but at least it’s a nice ride, and we’re passengers for a change. That implies a certain loss of control over our circumstances, but tired as I am, I’ll take it in trade.



While the pilot gets out of the atmosphere, Keller gives us a quick tour and introduces us to his boys. The blue-eyed one who wants to kill Hit is named Grubbs. His partner’s name is Boyle. They aren’t in the mood to chat, however, and disappear into the game room, our first stop. Huge wall-screen view panel, four terminals, rigged with virtual sims, and a variety of a comfortable chairs.



Keller’s guys mess with the equipment, and then the room reverberates with the distinctive sound of Real Killer. I guess that’s how enforcers relax. When they aren’t cracking heads, they sim it. For a moment I stand in the doorway watching the wall screen mimic the moves they make. That might be fun later.



Keller clears his throat. “Let me show you the rest.”



With a nod, I step back, realizing I’m holding up progress. I walk on, only half listening to Keller’s running commentary. Vel comments now and then. So does Jael. But it sounds muzzy to me, faraway and indistinct.



As we go along, nobody says much, probably eager to clean up and crash. We can’t do that until after jump, though, and we can’t power up the phase drive until we’re away from the planet’s gravitational pull.



I pause on the observation deck, watching Lachion recede. From this height, it’s a pale world except for splashes of blue where waters lie. March seems both infinitesimal and ephemeral to me now. Touching the ring on my left hand, like a talisman, doesn’t bring him back.



From this height, it’s like I imagined him. I ache in body and soul. Forgetting the others behind me, I lean my head against the screen for a moment, distorting the image. This isn’t the real Lachion, but an array of light that forms a likeness.



His kiss, his smile, my frozen tears in the Teresengi Basin—a dozen moments run behind my closed eyelids, fragments of how we were together. And aren’t anymore. I don’t know how I’ll bear it.



Vel comes up beside me and puts his hand on my shoulder. Don’t ask me how I know it’s him, but I’ve come to expect this kind of quiet, understated comfort from him. He doesn’t speak, just tilts his head toward the corridor.



Come away, Jax. There’s a new life waiting for you.



Maybe he doesn’t mean that, or even think it, but I ascribe those words to him as I suck in a deep breath. My eyes sting, but I blink the tears back. Sometimes giving up the old life is fucking hard.



I trail the others as we continue the tour. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a vessel so big. It must cost the annual per capita income of some small colonies to power it. Game room, observation deck, spa: This ship is like a roving resort.



I’m definitely coming back to the spa when I get a chance. I’d love a massage, a facial, and anything else I can think of. The droid attendant bears the Pretty Robotics logo, which means she’s top-of-the-line. Even in my nav-star days, I never traveled in such luxury. Since the Corp wanted to maximize profit, they squeezed each credit until it squeaked.



Huh. Apparently crime does pay.



Just then, the pilot’s voice comes over the comm. Deep. Masculine. He has an accent I can’t place. “We’re ready for jump. Strap in, we go in five.”



“How far are we traveling?” I ask.



Jael quirks a brow at me, as if to say, I thought you’d gone mute. Too bad. I flick my fingers at him and turn back to Keller.



“One jump and an eighteen-hour haul,” he answers.



Pity. That doesn’t tell me anything about our destination. We head for the hub, and for the first time in more years than I can count, I don the protective headgear along with everyone else. Envy bubbles in my gut.



Someone else will make this leap. Another jumper gets to blaze through grimspace and find the beacons. Shit, withdrawal might kill me faster than anything else. My palms feel clammy as I try to strap in.



I fumble. Hell, how does this even work? I haven’t been a passenger since I was thirteen years old.



“You look funny, Jax.” Jael takes the seat next to me. “You all right?”



No. I can’t do the one thing I love more than anything else in the world, unless I want to die. My reassuring smile comes out stiff and scary, if the way the merc recoils offers any clue about my appearance.



Dina answers for me. “Of course she’s not, jackass. She’s tired, dirty, and she doesn’t know how to put on her harness.”



“Here,” he says, oddly gentle. “You crisscross this, and then this one buckles to the helmet. This last one goes over the top.”



“Thanks,” I mutter.



I feel helpless. Old. Used up. I never minded the scars on my body, but this . . . I rub my foot over the plush carpet like a sullen child.



He studies me a moment, his pale eyes eerie in his muddy face. “You’ve never ridden like this? Not even on vacation?”



“Not in a really long time.” Twenty years, to be exact.



He just doesn’t get it. Non-jumpers never do, and there’s a thrill I can’t articulate. But because it might distract me, I try.



“Everyone has something that makes them special.” I slant him a pointed look to make sure he takes my meaning. Jael gives me a curt nod. “So imagine if you couldn’t do it anymore. Whether your gift is good or bad, losing it cuts out a large core of what made you unique.”



Dina cracks, “Your big mouth covers that, Jax.”



“I get it,” Jael says, after thinking it over. “But you’re still you.”



No, I’m human detritus, what remains when the best burns away. I quash that thought on my own since March isn’t here to do it for me.



Hit offers the best piece of advice. “Just close your eyes and don’t think about it. Pretend you’re not missing the jump.”



I’ll try. Even a ship this size shudders a little when the phase drive comes online. So much energy coursing through the conduits, it couldn’t be otherwise.



A minute later, Keller arrives with his goons and they strap in across from me. I’m glad they didn’t witness my weakness. I tell myself I’m being a baby, letting the loss hit me so hard. Jumpers retire all the time. They teach. They live otherwise productive lives.



Why am I determined to make such a big deal out of it? Maybe I’m used to being the hero. I expected us to steal a ship, and me to sacrifice more health because my crew counted on me to jump. Take them to safety.



Am I disappointed that I don’t get to be a martyr? Shit. I don’t like what that says about me. I don’t have to be the center of attention. I can sit back and ride like everyone else. I can.



I don’t remember what that first trip was like back when I was a kid. Too many active jumps have nudged that memory aside. So I don’t know what to expect.



Vel sits on my left. He leans over as much as he can within the harness and says, “You will experience some pressure, but it is not unpleasant. Electrical sometimes destabilizes while we pass through grimspace, so the lights may go off or flicker uncontrollably.”



He’s trying to make it easier. The raw place inside me eases a little. “Anything else I should know?”



“It helps to hang on to something.” The bounty hunter offers his hand.



* * *



CHAPTER 42



Smiling, l curl my fingers through his.



Vel’s hand feels slightly sticky and indefinably wrong. While sight may deceive you, touch rarely does. He’s starting to smell moldy, too. After we jump, I don’t imagine we’ll see him out of quarters until we arrive. I hope that’s long enough for him to generate more skin, unless he intends to go as himself. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.



Then again, if Syndicate intelligence is worth anything, they already know about him. So perhaps it’s a moot point. I remember how Jewel said Bugs couldn’t be permitted to mingle freely with humanity. Does he pose a danger to Vel?



Maybe they’re using me as a blind when they intended to capture the infamous bounty hunter all along. Though I shake my head at the notion, I can’t dismiss it entirely. Good to know my paranoia continues to thrive. It would help if I knew who wanted me dead.



Lightning streams over my skin. I know when we enter grimspace. Not because the lights flicker, although they do. No, I can feel it in my blood, in my bones. Like I’m part of the primordial matter boiling all around the ship.