I’m starting to understand, and my stomach rolls over, full of that disgusting paste and burning shame. “So it was decided you each needed a…protector?” I can’t make myself say “master,” but that’s what it means. What we’ve done.
Loras nods. “At birth, we’re bonded to someone, who ostensibly will safeguard us and treat us well. Since many of us have a flair for languages, we are sought after on board ships.”
“You don’t stay with your protectors for life?”
“Generally,” he says. “But we can be inherited, like property. And if someone saves our lives, outside the family line to which we’re bound, then shinai transfers to that new person, a sort of life link, I suppose.”
“I got him from my great-uncle,” March says then. “But he’s yours now.”
Mother Mary of Anabolic Grace.
“And if I refuse—”
“I’ll die. It was decided that a quick death is preferable for any La’heng unfortunate enough to find himself without protection due to what might befall him thereafter.” Loras regards me, mouth compressed.
Which explains why they were all studiously ignoring his distress. It doesn’t make it more acceptable, but they all knew what might happen if they intervened. And March, who should’ve been looking out for him, probably couldn’t tell what was going on, all the way in front.
I exhale in a tired rush. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll try to be a good…whatever. I’ll watch your back and let you do as you please, okay? Can we think of it as friendship more than obligation?”
Loras stares at me for a long moment. “Could you think of one to whom you are wholly subservient as a friend?”
Guess not. I’m suddenly exhausted and still need to pee.
CHAPTER 12
“Do it outside,” March dares me. Mocking. I’d almost forgotten he could do that. “Go see if it’s safe for the rest of us.”
And for Mary’s sake, that’s the last straw. I just nod and make for the door. If that’s what he thinks I’m good for, live bait, the doll you dangle into the cage to see if the monster’s sleeping, then fragging fine. I don’t see what happens thereafter, but he catches me just before I go out, spinning me back to face him. Keri’s curled up on her side, where he presumably dumped her as he came scrambling after me.
“Are you crazy?” he demands.
“Yeah.” I hold his look, and I’m just too tired to try to hide anything from him, not that I could entirely. He gets it all, one way or another, then with a muffled oath, he pulls me into his arms, gentle as he was with Keri.
My whole world’s upside down as he runs his hands over my back. March is just never, ever nice to me. I don’t have any idea how long it’s been since he found me on Perlas Station, but it seems like eternity. I can’t remember not hating March at this point; it’s the one truth to which I cling.
“Let me go before I cut your nuts off,” I tell him, then wonder why I sound like that. Soft. Broken. A not-Jax voice.
“Will you just shag her already?” Dina throws a torch-tube at March, hitting him in the side of the head with a satisfying thunk. The light comes on as it lands at his feet.
I think I love that woman. Because he breaks away to glare at her, and I step back. “I was just trying to keep her from killing herself.”
“Sure you were.” Now the doc’s giving him hell. “And that’s why you were finger-checking her scapula and vertebrae so carefully for possible injuries, too.”
Can’t help but snicker.
“I hate you all,” March growls. His expression adds, What’d I do to deserve this?
It seems like Dina registers that because she answers the implicit question. “Duh. You hired us out of Gehenna. That’s where all the assholes hang out. You were there, weren’t you?”
“She makes a strong case,” I admit.
Oddly enough, I feel better, less alone. I still need to pee, but I’m not willing to feed myself to the Teras to do so. We’re all surprised to hear the Gunnar finally speak up; he’s been quiet so long.
“We need to recall the drones, get a look at their security cams,” he says. “If it seems clear, we can make a run for the house. Alternative is to play it safe, stay here until daybreak. It might be a long night, but at least we’ll get where we’re going.”
At that, March nods and snags Keri’s bag, rummages until he finds a remote. “Think this is it, let’s have a look at what’s out there.”
He inputs a few commands, and about five minutes later, there’s a metallic clang as the drones try to proceed through the closed door. Bright, they aren’t. We open it just enough for them to pass through, then close it. Bolt it again.
Everyone watches as the Gunnar reviews the footage, grainy, low-tech stuff. But nothing seems to be moving out there.
“You think they’re all dead?” Loras asks.
I can see why that’d be a particular concern for him, seeing as he can’t fight, at all. Not even monsters. He’s reliant on me now for his protection. And if that’s not the shittiest twist of fate ever, I don’t know what is.
“Hard telling. If they’ve all fed…” The Gunnar pauses, and I know he’s thinking about his brothers, taken within the compound proper. “Then they might be nesting.”
March folds his arms. “It’s choosing time. I’ll have to take Keri. I don’t think she’s going to wake up for a while, and even if she does, she won’t be fit to run.”
Saul clears his throat. “Especially given the fact that I sedated her.”
“We should wait,” I say quietly. “It’s stupid to go when we’re safe enough here. We have blood all over us, so if there are any in the compound, they’ll catch the scent.”
“Daylight won’t help us survive them,” Loras observes. “It’ll just give us longer to feel afraid.”
“They’ll be wanting to return to the caves by then.” For once, March seems to be agreeing with me. “We have a better shot of everyone making it if we do wait.”
The solution’s simple, and I have to wonder why I didn’t think of it before. “Got an idea. Saul, can I have your shirt?”
I’m not being a perv; he’s just got the most blood on his clothing. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he pulls it over his head, and I toss him back his coat. They watch as I tie the sleeves around the first drone and push it outside. And the Gunnar nods like it’s a sound notion—
But holy shit, I hear wings, and Loras trembles, hands over his ears, since they must be screaming right outside the door. One of them slams hard against the reinforced metal, and I swallow, hoping they can’t smell us through the building, that their claws aren’t strong enough to get through these walls. I hear the sound of the drone being smashed to bits.
Oh, Mother Mary, no, please don’t let me have fucked this up.
I don’t notice I’m rocking back and forth on my heels until March puts a hand on my shoulder to steady me. “It was a good idea,” he tells me softly. “We’d have died trying to get to the main house. We’re safe in here. And this way, nobody secretly feels we’re being too cautious.” A little louder, he adds, “Going to call the Dahlgren First and have him spread word that there are Teras inside the perimeter.” Shortly thereafter, he gets on the radio and does so.
Throat thick, I nod. I’ve just realized that if I’d gone outside to pee, well, what happened to the drone, that’d be me right now. He really did save my life. Oh shit. I have a smart-ass comment about being his shinai on the tip of my tongue when, for probably the first time in my life, I hold it. Not because March deserves something more sincere, although he does, but because what’s been done to the La’heng just isn’t something I should joke about. And at least I’ve caught myself before I can be an insensitive asshole.
“Thanks,” I answer. I’m not just saying that because he complimented me. And by the shine of his dark eyes, he knows that.
He just shrugs, but it feels like an apology, as if he knows he pushed too far. It’ll do. Dina’s watching us, and she just rolls her eyes, smirking. “Let’s get some bio in place if we’re staying the night,” is all she says.
All she really wants is two empty buckets, and we argue a little bit. I finally say, “Okay, you must get off on guys watching you piss, then. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
“Bitch.” But she’s smiling as she helps me rig a primitive setup of blankets on wire fastened to the shelving on either side.
I’m the first to test out the ladies’ bucket and man, I think I have a peegasm when I finally let go, groaning. The guys are all smirking when I come out. I know they heard me, but whatever, dammit. Can we try to be a little bit grown-up? Please?
March seems to think about that, then shakes his head. But he grins at me. He’s removed his jacket, tucked it underneath Keri’s head. I dislike seeing the gentle side of him; makes him harder to hate, and I’ve been doing that so well. Doing my best to ignore both him and Loras, who I swear is trying to piss me off with his attentive-slave impression, I walk past and drop down beside the Gunnar, who looks as sad as a human can without actually weeping.
“So what’s your name?” I mean obviously it’s something Gunnar, but surely they don’t just number the big lugs.
“Lex,” he answers tiredly. “Alexander.” His gaze goes to Keri, and I wonder what’s on his mind. “I’m going to have to marry her,” he adds, when he sees me looking. He sounds about as pleased about that as I’d be to hook up with March.
Really starting to like that glare, by the way.
“How come?” I think he needs to talk more than I want to know. And that’s fine.
“Clan competition is fierce here,” he tells me. “As I’m sure you’ve figured out. We have to race for new technology, resources. Everything. There’s a very definite hierarchy, and we two have been at each other for the top spot for years now. That’s why we went after you so hard. Couldn’t let Dahlgren get the edge.”
“How the hell do I qualify as either?”
“Commerce,” he tells me. “Right now, the only source of trained jumpers is via the Corp. They control all trade, more or less, although they would deny that’s their intent with their refusal to permit unaffiliated academies. Imagine the money that could be made if someone successfully created an alternative.”
“You not only want to try and figure out what makes me tick, you also want me to train jumpers for you.”
I’ve put the pieces together now. My disgrace on Matins IV probably seemed like a hell of an opportunity. How often does a jumper wind up like that? Ordinarily they’d have no hope of turning one of us; part of our indoctrination is a “Corp for life” mentality. That’s what No-chin meant when he said the Gunnars would pay more, and it’d be better for all concerned if I signed with them. Teaching…never even thought of that. Obviously, the Corp has instructors, former jumpers, who choose retirement over burnout, and they impart what we need to know about grimspace. We make our first practice jumps with them, all jacked into a test ship that simulates what we’ll one day do all by ourselves.