* * *

CHAPTER 23

lt’s just like that first time, all over again.

I’ve finally got what I wanted so bad. Here I sit in the nav chair, ready to jack in, next to a pilot who wants nothing to do with me. I already tried to apologize, but he’s having none of it.

That scrapes the wrong way since I want to keep us from making a terrible mistake. If I pull back, then hearing the worst will be easier on us both. And if we get good news, then we’ll be dying to get back in bed, anticipation and all that.

March thinks I’m full of shit—that I’m inventing reasons to push him away. That’s not true. I just don’t want him to suffer like I did when I lost Kai. I have to know there’s hope before I let this thing between us go any further. So maybe it’s better this way, better if he hates me. He’s so afraid of losing me that he can’t see I’m scared out of my mind, too. I’m trying to be strong.

How can you miss someone who’s right beside you?

I put all that aside as we run a systems check and prepare to depart. I’m a professional. Doesn’t matter how I feel, or that my stomach flips like a dying fish at the thought of being part of him again. The desire to jump twines painfully with the desire to jump March.

This ship vibrates a lot more than the Folly. It’s smaller, for one thing. Not sure if we possess any weapons at all. If we don’t, Dina’ll want to collaborate with Jael on it. I haven’t had a chance to ask if she made any upgrades while we waited.

All told, we spent fourteen days on Emry Station, but the cavalry has arrived. Surge and family will remain on station, but Jael’s coming with us. I’m not sure we need a gunner on a diplomatic mission, but given my track record, it’s not a terrible idea.

“We’ll stop on Lachion first,” March says. “Doc needs to see you, and I need to take care of personal business there, too.”

“Tarn isn’t going to like it.”

“He’ll like it less if you drop dead.”

Yeah, he’s back to the old March where I’m concerned. It hurts to look at him, so I jack in, though we haven’t left the station. The cockpit disappears.

We’re waiting for clearance. I’ve already checked the star charts to translate the distance I need to navigate.

They’ve disabled the automated docking system until they decide what to do about the Morgut threat. I heard them kicking around the idea of having Conglomerate ships outfitted with a special device that signals the system it’s safe. Such technology can be cracked, though. The other solution is requiring the docking bays be manned twenty-four/seven. Either option requires a bigger budget.

March gets on the comm, hailing the guys in the office. “We’re good to go.”

“Roger that. Thanks for everything, Bernard’s Luck. We’d have lost a lot more lives out here if you hadn’t happened by.”

I feel the lift as we maneuver out. Though I can’t see, I picture March’s hands on the controls. He’s sure and graceful as he flies. I hear him telling the crew to strap in, so we’ll be making the jump soon.

“You ready?”

No.

But I nod, bracing myself for the moment when the universe unfurls. And then March jacks in beside me. Partitioned, of course. He doesn’t want to share anything with me right now. Well, I can do it, too; I’ve learned a lot from him. I won’t give him a damn thing either.

The ship shudders as the phase drive powers up. Dina reports all clear just before we make the jump, and then the world flashes out.

Fucking beautiful.

My mind expands to infinite space. Grimspace feels like flying, the only place I’m completely free. I sense the beacons, alluring as innumerable heartbeats thudding in time. Somehow there’s harmony in the chaos.

For a moment, just a moment, I think I might understand everything, but then it shifts to something else and floats away. I can’t hold on to anything here, not even my own soul. The sense that everything’s connected on some level I can’t grasp haunts me. But I’m not here to suss out the secrets of the universe today.

I just need to find the beacon nearest Lachion. I’ve made this run more than once, so the path comes easy. Funny how March and I can do this so coolly, sharing nothing, where we used to be one mind.

Well. Funny, like a needle in the eye.

He knows what grimspace looks like, its mad, consuming beauty. Few people do if they aren’t jumpers themselves. They’ve never managed to develop a camera that can reproduce what it sees, the impossible patterns and oscillations found here.

I sense the adjustments he makes, guiding the ship in response to my cues. The pulse roars in my ears. We’re here.

And then I go blind again while the ship trembles its way back into straight space. No wonder mudsiders think spacers are crazy. Anytime we make a long haul, we could be lost forever. Over the years, they’ve reduced the odds considerably, but freighters still vanish now and then. A gamble at good odds is still a gamble.

Taking care with my bad hand, I unplug. My head hurts, more than it used to when I left. It sucks a little more of my soul each time. There will come a day when I’ll simply be empty. Even if March manages to drag me back again, the next time I cruise too close to burnout—assuming he’d bother now—I’m not sure there would be anything left.

And I don’t care. Beneath the tired aches, serenity flows through me like a river dammed too long. This is a jumper’s lot. I don’t know how the instructors do it. Since they want me to teach on Lachion, though, I guess I need to figure it out.

His voice startles me. I thought we wouldn’t be speaking for a while. “We’ll be there in a couple of hours. You did well.”

“Thanks.” Courtesy feels awkward.

I want to tell him to go fuck himself if he can’t understand what I’m going through. It’s not all about him. March has abandonment issues, and it’s not my job to soothe them. Just now I can’t muster up the energy.

“Your fire’s gone out,” March says. “You used to feel like a live wire, Jax.”

“All the more reason for me to step back,” I tell him with a fraction of my old bite. “If that was what you loved about me, and I’ve lost it, then what’s left?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

“No.”

March rakes a hand through his dark hair. Over the past weeks, his has actually gotten longer where mine has stopped growing entirely. He looks rough and a little menacing with the stubble on his jaw.

“You’re killing me here. You’re asking me to leave you the fuck alone just when you need me most. How can I do that?”

“I’ll make it easy for you.” I push from the nav chair and duck out of the cockpit. Nothing ever hurt like walking away from him.

I can’t accept that I’m crazy for asking for time, though. Why can’t he understand that I need some chance to be strong again? I don’t want to lose myself in leaning on him. If I can’t stand on my own two feet when I need to, then I might as well be dead.

Suddenly my dad’s plan—the Eutha-booth—doesn’t look half-bad.

Instead of stopping to chat with the others, I pass straight through the hub and head for my quarters. I have two hours to kill. Maybe I’ll dump my problems on 245 and see what she suggests.

To my vast annoyance, the AI tells me I have company, almost as soon as I flop down on my bunk. As the door slides open, I growl, “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

Dina steps back, feigning surprise. “Did you? I didn’t hear for all the bitchy stomping around you’ve been doing for the last few weeks. You need to get laid.”

I lie back with a sigh. “No, I don’t. I need to find out from Doc just how bad off I am.”

“You’re completely fucked,” she says at once, but it’s more of a reflex. “I brought biscuits and choclaste. I thought we could talk about hot guys.”

That makes me raise up on an elbow. “You don’t do hot guys.”

“But you do. We can talk hot chicks if it makes you feel better,” she offers. “Kora wasn’t my type, but I liked the doc they sent along from New Terra.”

“I bet you did.” Despite my misery, I eat a cookie. “Wonder who she pissed off to get that assignment.”

“She punched someone for feeling her up.” Dina grins.

I raise a brow. “And you discovered this while feeling her up?”

Dina shakes her head as she commandeers the chair beside my workstation. “Afterward.”

“Of course. Why are you being so nice to me?”

She shrugs. “Someone has to be. You look like a fucking death’s-head.”

Nobody else on the ship knows. Since she’s a smart woman, she noticed something’s wrong. But she doesn’t know what. It might do me good to confide in a human being for a change, one who isn’t interested in screwing me.

So I do.

* * *

CHAPTER 24

Talking with Dina eats up the hours.

“Fuck it,” she says, downing the last biscuit. “We all die. If Doc can’t sort you out, then go do whatever the hell you like. Don’t waste the time you have left.”

“Always thought I’d go out jumping, you know? I think I was meant to, earlier. March called me back.” That spills out before I can stop it.

She dips her chin, studies her booted feet for a moment. “He loves you, Mary knows why. I don’t know what you mean to do about it. Not my business, really—”

“But you’re presuming to advise me about het-sex relationships, even though you don’t know the first thing about them?” I lick my finger and collect some of the crumbs from the cookie plate.

“It’s the same principle, you stupid twat. You don’t deserve my advice.”

“Probably not, but you can’t resist. That way, when I ignore it, you can call me an ignorant bitch later, after I’ve fucked things up beyond all recognition.”

“At least you’re honest,” she says with a grin. “And reasonably self-aware.”

“It’s a gift. Go on then.”

“Be gentle with him.” Dina sits forward, arms crossed on her knees. “I’ve known him a long time, and I don’t want to see him hurt again.”

That makes two of us. The silence builds, charged with things I don’t feel able to articulate. Finally, I answer, “Noted.”

It’s not nearly enough.

My first clue that we’ve arrived comes from the bump that signals planetfall. They’ve built a hangar inside the Gunnar-Dahlgren compound, so the merger must be going well. I can’t wait to see Doc, even Lex and Keri for that matter.

It’s not quite a homecoming. I won’t feel like that until I return to the glastique garret that didn’t have a shower. Inexplicable, the places our hearts tie us to. I miss Adele. She was like the mother I always wanted, not the one I’ve got.

“We should get the hell off this ship,” Dina says then.

With a stretch, she pushes to her feet, leaving the dirty dishes for me to worry about. I grin a little over that. I’d worry if she ever turned up too nice. I might find her laying out my funeral clothes the moment my back was turned.