When I shut my eyes like Hit told me to, I can just about see the colors. Oh, they’re far away, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope, but I can see them. This can’t be a delusion.
I’ve never heard of anyone who could sense grimspace when they weren’t jacked into the ship, but I’m not imagining this. From the pure, vast silence comes the pulse of the beacons. I hear it as an echo of my own heartbeat. Since I don’t know where we’re going, I can’t attempt to find the right ones, but I sense the navigator in the cockpit doing so.
He seems sluggish to me, unsure of our course. This jumper lacks my elation, my passion, my certainty. I never doubt I’ve targeted the right beacon, never have trouble translating the star charts from straight space. There’s something wrong here. I’ve never watched anyone work before, though instructors sometimes do. If I had a control button, I’d hit the override.
I feel the way we alter course, making for a beacon. But he’s overshot the jump. I don’t understand how I know, but this isn’t the place to phase out. Their jumper’s a hack, not an artist; he can barely perceive the beacons at all, and his best guess is our worst nightmare.
The phase drive rumbles, preparing to take us back. I shake my head, struggle against my harness, shouting, “No, no, no!”
It’s pandemonium. Everyone speaks at once, either telling me to shut the f**k up or trying to reassure me.
Vel squeezes my hand. “It is nearly over, Sirantha.”
“No shit it’s almost over, we—”
“Sit tight,” the Syndicate pilot barks over the comm. “Do not remove safety gear. This is going to get rough.”
Keller depresses a button on the arm of his chair. “What’s the problem, Mat?”
“We’ve emerged in an asteroid field, sir, two days off target. And these little bastards are surrounded by pockets of highly combustible gas.”
Oh Mary. I knew it. Well, not about the asteroid field, not exactly, but I knew he’d gotten the jump wrong. I knew it was dangerous.
But how? How did I know?
“Why are you chatting with me then?” Keller demands. “Get us out of this mess and then update me.”
“Roger that.”
“I never realized how good you are.” Because of Dina’s quiet tone, it takes me a moment to register that as a compliment. “Hell of a backseat driver, but good. You get us there, time after time. Never anything like this.”
I shift in my chair. “That’s not true. When Vel was chasing us, I jumped us eight days out.”
“Not into the middle of an asteroid field,” she mutters.
With a nod, I concede the point. Until now, I never wondered how I avoid jumping back under dangerous conditions. I can’t explain that knowledge; it works like a sixth sense, and I guess I assumed every other jumper has it, too.
Apparently not.
The ship tilts this way and that, testing the strength of my harness. We sling hard left and then roll. My stomach lurches as we make a full loop.
“Mary,” Jael groans. “I hope I don’t puke before we die.”
“Relax.” Keller sounds irritated. “Mat’s good. He’ll get us out.”
A distant boom and a grinding sound belie his words.
“We’re hit,” the pilot announces. “And we have breach. Droids are sealing off the second deck.”
Damn. Good-bye, spa. Maybe I’d better kiss my ass good-bye while I’m at it.
“Not good enough.” Hit starts unbuckling her safety gear. “Tell him to give me the chair. I’m not dying today.” Another explosion rocks the ship. “Go on, keep waffling, there won’t be enough of this thing left to tell what it was.”
Keller hesitates only a second before getting on the comm. “Mat, I’m sending someone up. Don’t argue, just let her fly.”
The pilot sounds oddly, inappropriately chipper. “Your funeral.”
We stare at each other, taut-faced, as Hit sprints down the corridor toward the cockpit. I hope she flies as well as she fights.
“She’s that good?” Dina asks.
“Better.” Coming from someone who hates her as much as Keller seems to, that’s high praise. He sighs. “Jewel will have my ass for messing up the new ship.”
“Space the guy in the nav chair.” I blurt the words before I think better of them. “He screwed up so bad—” I trail off, realizing there’s no way I can know that.
Everyone swivels to look at me, the same question burning in their eyes.
“How can you be sure?” Keller asks.
“I’m not. Forget I said anything.” Why give people another reason to think I’m a crazy egomaniac?
They don’t look particularly convinced, but a shift in the way the ship handles distracts them. We’ve got Hit in the pilot seat now. The swoops feel faster, more graceful. Smaller explosions trail in our wake, but they don’t touch the ship.
Maybe we’ll get out of this after all.
Ten minutes later, she comes strolling down the hall from the cockpit, looking pleased with herself. “And that’s how it’s done. Your boys should be able to take it from here.” She smiles at Keller. “And if they can’t, I’d have them killed.”
The Syndicate boss watches as she helps Dina from her chair, and the two of them head off to quarters. Our girl’s moving better already, less drag in her leg, more free movement. Her EMP band must be doing some good.
I think Grubb speaks for all of us when he says, “Damn.”
“Madame Kang’s best,” Boyle agrees with a sigh. “We should recruit her.”
Keller shakes his head. “Jewel won’t pay what she’s worth. If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to those idiots in the cockpit. Deck two is off-limits for obvious reasons, but you’re free to freshen up and rest.”
Rest. Finally.
I realize I’m still holding Vel’s hand, though I’ve damaged his skin some. “Thanks. I’m all right now.”
“My pleasure.” His vocalizer somehow grants the words a courtly inflection. “I believe I have some research to do now, if you will pardon me.”
Warmth floods through me. I need to spend some time with him, find out all about his people, their customs, and how they show affection. If they do. So far, I’ve been lax, and I only know that Ithtorians don’t hug.
“Of course.”
Then it’s just Jael and me left in the hub. He helps me untangle myself from my harness, and I haul myself to my feet. My bones pop as I arch my back.
Uneasy with the intensity of his regard, I try to smile. “What a day, right?”
“You did know, didn’t you?”
“Know what?” I begin a slow progress toward my room, which I hope will be as nice as I imagine.
“That the jumper messed things up. Somehow, you went out there with him. You saw . . . something.”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I tell him tiredly. “I need a shower and then a good eight hours of sleep. Don’t you have anything else to do?”
“No. You’re not getting out of this so easily, Jax. You may have distracted the others, but I was right beside you. I saw your eyes.”
“So what?”
The door to my room recognizes me. As it swishes open, I’m tempted to summon a bot to eject him, but that will only delay the inevitable. He’ll never stop once he’s got his teeth into something. I don’t understand why he wants to know so badly, but he’s the stubborn type.
I pause in the doorway, awestruck. This is mine? All of it? Forget the utilitarian quarters I’ve been used to; this is a suite. As I step onto the thick carpeting, I sink at least a centimeter.
In my inglorious past, I’ve stayed in hotels that weren’t this nice. I try to take in everything in a single visual sweep, blotting out Jael’s droning voice. Full-sized bed with shimmering blue blanket, a bar, a personal assistance unit with gourmet kitchen-mate. The bathroom steals my breath.
“So we’re going to talk about it. As your bodyguard, I have to know every last thing about you and try to figure out a way to compensate for every eventuality.”
Maybe it’s that simple. Maybe he just wants to be sure that whatever happened isn’t a threat to my well-being. After all, Tarn is paying him to take care of me, and if grimspace poses a danger, even when I’m not jumping—actually I don’t even know the answer. This is all new ground since I’m usually in the nav chair.
I sigh. “Good luck with that. I’ll be in the shower.”
With that, I start getting nak*d.
* * *
CHAPTER 43
lt’s funny how fast he averts his eyes.
Not that I blame him. The one good thing you can say about the Thermud caked all over me, it covers my scars. I pad into the bathroom, examining all the different settings. I’m used to a san-shower that just cleans you up. This one promises to unclog your pores, steam off the dead cells, and leave you glowing with health.
“Well, let’s see what this thing can do.”
Midway through my shower, Jael calls, “You all right in there?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? It’s pure bliss.”
Sound of throat clearing. “No reason.”
Half an hour later, I step out and wrap myself up in an ivory robe. I find Jael sprawled on the sofa, drink in hand. But he appears to be . . . blushing?
“What?” I check the tie to make sure I’m not showing skin.
“Have a good time?” he chokes out. “You were . . . loud.”
“Mmm. It was wonderful.” Just to tease him, I add, “You did say you’d know the next time—”
“So I did.” If anything, his embarrassment intensifies.
I can’t believe he really thinks I—well, maybe I can use it to my advantage. “You’d better get used to it since you’re determined to be my shadow. Privacy is overrated anyhow.”
“You’re mad, Jax.” But he smiles.
Freshly washed, my hair stands on end like down on a baby bird. I grimace at my reflection and head for the kitchen-mate. Jael tracks me with his eyes.
“You hungry? Don’t think I’ll make a habit of this, but if you go clean up, I’ll make us something to eat. Don’t just sit there. You’re crumbling all over my couch.”
Maybe I can distract him from the discussion he intends to have. It’s worth a shot anyway. I can’t make him understand what I don’t even get myself.
Jael slides to his feet. “Right, you’ve persuaded me, but don’t imagine you’re off the hook. We’ll talk about it over dinner.”
“The hell we will,” I mutter.
I half expect him to stride boldly into my bathroom, which offers the interesting dilemma of what he’s going to wear when he’s done. Instead he lets himself out, pausing to murmur, “I’m just next door.”
As if I’m likely to go into panic mode at the prospect of being alone. Well, it has been a while. Between sharing quarters with Vel and wandering the crowded Gunnar camp, this is certainly a change.