Wanderlust (Sirantha Jax 2)

“I have a better idea. No talk. That’s been working like a charm for hours.”

The bounty hunter glances back at me. In this light, his faux-human skin looks a little mottled. It’s probably time for him to slough it off and grow new, but he won’t do that while he needs the insulation.

“Sirantha, it will serve no purpose if you become ill.” With an annoyed sound, he delves into his pack and fishes out a tissue-thin insulated suit, maybe the same one I wore on the Teresengi Basin.

It’s not that cold, but I scramble into it. I hope my body heat, thus trapped, will warm me up soon. I wince in anticipation because when the feeling returns, it’s going to hurt.

Ahead, Dina asks Vel, “How much farther?”

She isn’t asking out of weariness or personal discomfort. Shit, now I know what the lights at the base of her sled mean. They’ve all dimmed but two. If we don’t find a power source before that last light goes out, she’ll be stranded.

“Four kilometers due west from here,” Vel answers. “We’ll find a hangar.”

Like the one where we landed the first time instead of going directly to the compound. They’re maintained by droids and bots, officially independent of clan allegiance. Merchant ships often put down there when they have to deliver supplies on planet to multiple stops; it forestalls accusations of partisan dealings.

I nearly crack my jaw with a yawn. Four kilometers. Under optimum conditions in the training room, I ran that without breaking a sweat.

That was a long time, another lifetime, ago.

Far be it for me to question the leadership that’s gotten us this far, but . . . well, someone has to. “What if no ships are docked there?”

They don’t tend to stay long between dirtside deliveries anyway. Plus, the recent unrest on Lachion will have made some merchant vessels reluctant to risk it. Things won’t return to normal here for a while, though weapons vendors may try their luck. They always do a brisk trade on Nicuan.

“Why borrow trouble?” Jael shakes his head and sighs.

“I never borrow it. That implies it wasn’t mine to start with.”

“It’s a good question,” Hit puts in quietly. “And I’d like it answered.”

Perhaps it’s simply the hollow hills, but in the silence that follows, the wind carries in a dolorous howl. I imagine wild animals just beyond my line of sight, less terrible than the Teras, but just as hungry. How do the clans survive such a savage world, so far from city lights and the safety of space?

“I do not know,” Vel says at last. By Jael’s astonished look, he didn’t expect that answer either. We wait, hoping there’s more. “If nothing else, we will find a secure place to rest and bounce a message to New Terra. The McCulloughs cannot attack us on neutral territory without breaching seven interstellar accords.”

I don’t like the thought of waiting for rescue when anything can go wrong and usually does. As if in response, the first delicate snowflakes drift down, stick and shimmer in Hit’s dark hair. She brushes them away and spins to see the white curtain coming down. Soon this winter loveliness will sting.

“At least I’ll be able to charge this thing.” Dina slaps the side of the sled and then tips her head back to study the sky. “But I think we need to pick up the pace.”

“Got that right.” Beside me, Jael breaks into a jog that looks disgustingly effortless. “Don’t fall behind, Jax.”

He should be exhausted by now, scruffy and unshaven. Instead he’s just bloodstained and dirty like the rest of us. I don’t see weariness in his eyes, just a stupidly teasing light, like this is some big adventure.

Well, maybe to him, it is. Maybe Jael has endless reserves, thanks to his Bred heritage. I know he can heal from wounds that would kill anyone else.

As for me, I miss March, and I want a shower. I wouldn’t say no to some of the perks that an ambassador is reputed to receive. Thus far, I’ve gotten nothing but murder attempts out of my time on the job.

With a scowl, I raise my knees and force myself to run. Each jolt over rocky ground sends a shock of pain down my side. No problem. I’ll just pretend this is the training room, and I’m in peak form. No injury, no illness.

Shit, if I can do all that, why don’t I just wish us off this rock?

When Dina accelerates, the second-to-last light flickers and blinks out. Hope that single cell has enough juice to take her four kilometers. Vel doesn’t let her pass him, though. He increases his own rate of movement to stay a meter ahead of us.

I don’t know how he monitors his handheld and keeps an eye on the horizon at the same time. It must be an Ithtorian gift because I would’ve tripped over my own feet by now. He keeps one eye on each object, something humans just can’t do.

The snow falls heavier with each passing moment. In a way it’s good because it’ll cover our tracks. Thanks to the Thermud, that also means we’re five dark figures streaking over a white hillside and down into the valley.

Nothing but open plains from here on out.

Our “camouflage” makes us easier to spot, so I hope no McCulloughs lie between us and the hangar. The snow stings, catching in my lashes and numbing the visible portion of my face. Though I’m not the praying sort, I cycle certain thoughts in a mantra timed to my racing heart.

Please let there be a ship.

Please let us get there safely.

Please let Dina’s sled hold out.

Whether I’m entreating Mother Mary or Lady Luck herself, I couldn’t say. I just know when the building looms up out of the storm, blocky and ugly as an old Gehenna whore, I’ve never been so glad to see anything in my life.

Because I don’t think I can go another step.

* * *

CHAPTER 39

Jael winds up carrying me the last two hundred meters.

I don’t even bitch about it, though I know he’ll never let me live it down. No, I didn’t ask for help, but I guess the part where I stumbled and fell on my face sort of clued him in. He’s not an idiot, even if he’s beyond annoying.

Because he knows the emergency protocols, Vel keys us into the hangar. The doors hiss open, hinting at the delicious warmth awaiting us within. Since our luck usually works that way, I expect a firing squad to be waiting for us, or maybe a random pack of Morgut. I peer around the place.

Nothing so far.

After everything we’ve gone through in this hellhole, it can’t be so easy, can it? But maybe we’re due a break. Maybe.

Like desperate pilgrims, we stumble inside. Hard light floods my eyes, a shocking change from the winter landscape. I take quick stock of our surroundings: thick metal walls, high, open ceilings with fans and ducts in plain view. Apart from droids going about routine maintenance, the hangar is quiet.

There’s a ship.

A big one, too. Shiny and silver, it dominates the docking area. If there’s anyone aboard, they’re likely asleep since we’ve arrived just before dawn. Hopefully, the vessel belongs to some unsuspecting merchant who’s out in a land vehicle, innocently delivering spare parts. Maybe stuck in the snowstorm.

And I don’t give a shit about stranding him. If things go poorly out there, he might not need his ship back after all. But first we have to figure out how to steal it. I don’t expect that’ll be instantaneous, because only a fool would outfit a fine cruiser like this and then not lock it up tight as a virgin’s legs.

The AI greets us politely as we cross the floor. “Welcome to Hangar 47-A. It is unlawful to participate in aggressive activity in this space. If you use projectile weapons, please activate the safety mechanisms now. Please remove power cells from items such as sonicblades and disruptors. Please stow all other dangerous devices. If you refuse to comply, a Peacemaker unit will be dispatched to your location, you will be neutralized, and we will conduct a thorough inspection of your belongings. All contraband will be confiscated to fund the operation of Hangar 47-A. Thank you for your cooperation.”

I laugh softly because all I have is a shockstick. I drop it into my backpack and I’m done. Swaying on my feet, I watch the others scramble to deal with their weapons before we’re dubbed dangerous, and the droids react accordingly. Hit removes a ridiculous amount of armament from her person, cursing all the while.

Small circular units hover nearby, monitoring our progress. When we finish, the courteous, inhuman voice says, “Thank you. Please avail yourself of all public facilities until departure.”

I’m surprised it didn’t ask us to visit the gift shop. We didn’t linger long in the hangar, the first time I visited, and I’m starting to see why. Having everything so well orchestrated by machines makes me feel oddly extraneous.

“Is it me, or is there something spooky about being the only living things around here?” Hit asks, glancing around.

She rubs her hands up and down her arms, the first outward sign of nervousness I’ve seen from her. So the pilot doesn’t like droids. Interesting, considering that she’ll jack into the ship right next to me.

“Droids are more reliable than people,” Dina mutters.

Her sled gives an ominous whine, and I start looking for a place she can recharge. I point. “Over there. You can patch into that power station, I think. Might want to do it soon.”

She gives a nod. Hit follows her, as if expecting the mechanic will need a hand. I was going to, but it’s probably better if Hit helps. I’m not sure I’m strong enough.

To my vast delight, the climate control works just fine. Heat drifts down from the vents overhead, compensating for the weather. My teeth chatter as I strip out of the insulated suit and return it to Vel with a murmur of thanks. He stashes it in his pack, conduit to all good things.

I’ve lost count of how many times he’s saved my ass now. At this point I should just hand over the deed. Or maybe tattoo it with Property of Velith Il-Nok. That clinches it.

I’m so fucking tired I’m losing my mind.

“I need some time with the computer.” Vel pitches his voice loud enough to reach the other two, working on the sled. “I can get the boarding codes and access the ship via remote, but I do not know how long that will take. I recommend the rest of you get warmed up and have something to eat. There should be a waiting area over there with basic amenities.” He inclines his head. “In case of mechanical difficulties.”

I watch Dina’s halting steps toward the lounge, one arm slung around the pilot’s neck. As they move off, Hit tells Dina, “I’ll help you get comfortable, and then scrounge up something to eat. Sound good?”

The mechanic’s voice carries back to me. “Mmm, prepacked vending chow. I’ll buy. I need to get started on those rehab exercises, though. I’ve been wearing an EMP band on my thigh, but that can’t make up for plain hard work.”

I definitely notice a vibe between those two, but then Dina scores more than any man I ever met. More than once, I’ve seen her take home a girl who never looked twice at her own sex before. She’s definitely gifted.

Don’t ask me why I’m not right there with them, looking for a place to crash. Or a vending unit that will sell me something to eat that isn’t nutri-paste. Anything. I’d kill for some choclaste right about now.