Halfway to the cockpit, the metal panels appear singed, as if there’s been a fire. Mary help us. “Dina!” I call. “Did you check electrical?”

“Do you want to fix this thing? Of course I did. It’s sound. I already told you that. That’s purely a cosmetic flaw.”

“What’s the obsession with this piece of junk anyway?” I mutter.

“If we decide to leave Ithiss-Tor unexpectedly, we can’t be accused of theft by the Conglomerate,” March answers from behind me.

After considering everything that could go wrong, I have to say, “I see the value in that.”

“I thought you might. Let’s take a look at the cockpit.”

Right. We continue to the front, where I intend to inspect the nav chair. That’s life or death for me. If it doesn’t look right, I’m not going up in this, no matter what. I can live with being accused of theft. In fact, that might make a nice change from mass murder and general, wanton acts of terrorism.

I’m pleasantly surprised to find a relatively clean environment. The newest pieces on the ship have been installed up here, no signs of systems failure, no loose wiring. The nav chair is an older model, but it looks like it’s in good shape. After checking the port, I don’t doubt this ship will run.

“How’s it look in your end?”

March shrugs. “Old interface, but I can manage. We’ll be all right, Jax.”

“We’re stopping on Lachion first, right?” He said something about it last night, but honestly I was half-asleep. “Is that Conglomerate approved?”

“I don’t give a shit.” He grins at me and runs a hand over my stubbly head. “We know our message went out clean, but I’m not so sure about Keri’s. I just want to make sure everything’s all right. I owe her that much.”

I am absolutely not jealous over his concern. It’s paternal, that’s all. So what if Keri is young, lovely, talented, and terribly important? For a moment, I remember how much I resented her at our first meeting.

“I don’t know about paternal,” March says, tormenting me with a thoughtful pause. “Fraternal. I’m not that old.”

Before I can hit him in the head as he so richly deserves, the sound of raised voices echoes toward us. The acoustics in here are such that I can’t make out what the fuss is about, so I head back toward the hub. March’s friend Surge towers over Dina, looking ready to clobber her.

“You cheated!” Surge roars. “If you think I’m letting you take my ship—”

“My ship,” she corrects. “I have all the documentation, and you better get your smelly ass off of it before we take you up and boost you out the garbage chute.”

I register March’s amusement as he comes up behind me. Funny, he hasn’t made a sound, but I can feel his smile. Wonder if this sensitivity results from jacking in with a Psi pilot.

“I see you’ve met Dina. I knew I’d heard that ship name somewhere. She rolled you in a game of Pick Five, huh? You must’ve been pretty drunk.”

“Maybe a little,” Surge admits. “I didn’t even realize what I wagered till this mornin’. Talk about a rude awakening. Now my crew’s stranded here.”

Dina snorts. “Serves them right for signing on with a scruffy, shamefaced mash-brain like you.”

“You can’t leave us here,” Surge protests. “Let us ship out with you. You could use an extra pilot and jumper to spell you, right? And my guys won’t eat much.” His tone turns wheedling. “Come on, mate, it’ll be like old times.”

There are seven of them and four of us. Even with March and me in the cockpit, that leaves a shortage of safety seats in the hub, and I doubt anyone is going to volunteer to have his brain scrambled. Staying on New Terra isn’t that bad.

By his expression, March is thinking along the same lines. “Look, I’m sorry you gambled away your ship, Bernard.” He does sound sympathetic. “But she won’t carry twelve. I can take three of you: pilot, jumper, plus one more. The rest of your crew stays dirtside. We’re on a diplomatic mission, but we’re stopping on Lachion first, so I can take you that far.”

“We might be able to find work with one of the clans,” Surge says with a sigh. “Right, then. Done. I’ll call my boy, Jael, and our jumper, Koratati. It’s rather urgent for her to get off world. She’s nonhuman, doesn’t have a valid visa. I expect you’ve heard about the new Conglomerate immigration laws?”

I haven’t, actually, but Velith has. “Yes, it shall likely prove difficult to move about once they enforce them.”

March shakes his head. “That’s one way to enforce the status quo.”

“They really want to get a lock on things, don’t they?” With a sigh, Dina fastens a tool belt around her waist. “I’m just afraid it’s going to backfire, like it did on Tarnus.”

“Periods of political upheaval are often accompanied by widespread disorder and lawlessness,” Vel observes.

“It used to be confined to the Outskirts,” I say. “And Corp patrols kept the tier worlds safe. You think the Conglomerate’s organized enough to prevent piracy and smuggling from becoming widespread?”

We all exchange a dubious glance.

“If nothing else, they can make life difficult for folks on the tier worlds,” Surge answers at last. “As for the wider reaches, I doubt it. It’s gonna be every man for himself out there for a while yet. I’d put money on the Syndicate running things before the Conglomerate gets itself sorted.”

Sadly, nobody disputes his assessment.

“Pick your bunks, people. Surge, I want your other two on board in under an hour. We’re taking off in seventy, hell or high water.” Now that’s the March I know and love.

I throw my meager possessions into a miniscule room at random and then return to the cockpit. March is already running diagnostics, a pretty array of lights glimmering on the instrument panel. I even know what some of them mean now, and I prove it by saying, “Isn’t that reading a little low for life support?”

He grins like he’s proud of me. “Yeah, give it some time to power up all the way. This ship won’t be doing any lightning-fast getaways in its current state. Give Dina some time with it on Lachion, though. She’ll upgrade, add all the pretty bells and whistles you admired on the Folly.”

I check the port one last time. “So what do you think?”

“Surge isn’t telling us something,” March says. “But I couldn’t get a read on what. I’ll be watching him, don’t worry.”

I raise a brow. “I thought he was a friend of yours.”

“More accurate to say, we belonged to the same companyat one time. He’s doing his best to appear affable, but I think there’s more to it.”

“You think he lost the ship to Dina on purpose, so he’d have a reason to attach himself to us?” There goes my paranoia again.

“I don’t discount it.” March wears a thundercloud scowl, long fingers dancing over the instrument panel. “Never forget, he’s a merc at heart, and he doesn’t own an ounce of sentiment. He goes for the biggest payday, every time.”

“If you think he’s out to get us, why is he on board this ship?” I ask. Seems like a basic error in judgment.

“I prefer to keep my enemies close enough that I can go for their throats.” By his grim expression, he’s remembering something he’d rather not discuss.

* * *

CHAPTER 10

lt feels good to be in the chair again.

We’ve finished diagnostics and everyone’s on board. Jael is a handsome, cocky bastard. I don’t know what he’s good for on a ship, but he makes fine eye candy. And he’s just the type I used to love: slim, blond, and too pretty for his own good. The way I look now, though, he spends his time flirting with Dina. He’s more likely to get blood from a stone than make headway with her.

That stings my feminine vanity a little. I used to be able to command a man’s attention by walking into a room. I had an indefinable something.

Now I’m damaged goods, but it’s enough that March loves me. I don’t care if some stupid space cowboy can’t appreciate what’s beneath the surface.

Koratati is . . . big. She arrived swathed in a gray cloak, and I didn’t get a good look at her before we came up front. We know she’s nonhuman, so she might be one of the jumbo races. Surge did right to get her off planet, as hiding her wouldn’t prove an easy task in Wickville. Hopefully, she can wedge her ass into the safety harness when we need to make the jump.

March contacts docking control on the relay, which crackles in a tinny, old-fashioned way. After a few minutes, they respond, “You have clearance, Bernard’s Luck. Have a good flight.”

Over the rush of the thrusters, I hear the hangar doors groan their way open. On some planets, the shipyards are out in the open, but it’s too cold for that in this part of New Terra. The subzero temps would damage the instruments if we didn’t keep the ships inside a climate-controlled hangar.

As always, I admire March’s skill on the controls, the smooth way we swoop out into the sky. I know from experience, that isn’t as easy as it looks. As we gain altitude, I feel it in my eardrums before the pressure inside the ship stabilizes.

The little Luck shudders as we push past the atmosphere and into stark, silent reaches where I feel most at home. There’s nothing like seeing stars through the sensor screen and knowing only a few centimeters of metal separate you from vacuum. Just thinking about it sends a thrill through me.

March shakes his head at me, I hope with affection. “You’re crazy, Jax.”

“I know.”

That’s not the first time he’s said so. I could counter that he’s mad for loving me, but that might make him question it. And I don’t want that, even though I’m afraid of hurting him, afraid of losing him.

Afraid of damn near everything.

But I refuse to let it paralyze me. I won’t be the woman who cowers behind four walls, never taking chances. I want to die like I’ve lived. I always wanted to be larger than life, but lately it feels like I’m shrinking—literally, like old women do.

March cuts me a sharp look—he hates when I think about dying. He says it’s macabre. Well, the subsequent thought should make him smile because I’m not ready to go anytime soon, not until I’ve seen more, done more. After this is all over, we’ll spend a glorious week on the beaches of New Venice, maybe luge down the glaciers on Ielos. There’s too much left to do for me to want the ride to end so soon.

“Glad to hear it,” he says softly. “I’d miss you.”

Understatement. I have no words for the holocaust I saw inside him when he thought he’d lost me. He went to a place beyond loss, beyond madness. I don’t deserve him. But I put aside those thoughts because they make me ache.

He seems a little tense. The last time March and I left the cockpit, the Folly wound up targeted by New Terra’s Satellite Defense Installations, and we were lucky to reach the surface in one piece. I don’t blame him for wanting to make sure we make it to the first jump intact.