Killbox (Sirantha Jax 4)

Unlike the rest of the jumpers, I’m not shocked to find a hologram giving our lessons. It makes sense from a time-allocation standpoint. Who can learn and present new information faster than an AI?

We spend weeks learning old patterns and formations. Drill myself on the information until I can recite it in my sleep. March pokes me awake some nights because apparently I’m doing precisely that. We have to be ready for anything: ready to assume command of the ship, ready to reroute weapons to the cockpit. Navigators used to be more versatile than we are now. Farwan turned us into one-trick wonders, content to rest upon our genetic laurels.

This includes a physical component, too. In addition to our classroom time, we spend hours in the workout room, practicing our hand-to-hand. In case our vessel is boarded, we’re not just jumpers—we’re soldiers, and this is war.

March comes to check up on us periodically. I’m sparring when he pops in this time, thankfully not with Koratati. We all draw lots on a daily basis to see who will go round with her; because of her greater size and strength, she beats the rest of us too easily for it to be a fair assessment of our skills. I’m up against a jumper named Sirius, who, despite what his name would imply, is quite a joker in the usual course.

I block one of his blows with my forearm. It’s a solid hit, and it’ll leave a mark, but I don’t let the pain distract me. Since I know he leads with his right, I sweep his left leg and take him down, but I’m too slight to control him with my weight. My best hope lies in being faster and smarter. Since that’s the way I fought even before I had this training, the experience benefits me considerably.

Instead of singling me out, he merely walks among us, inspecting the troops. March offers a comment or criticism here and there, telling a fighter where he can improve. When he stops at our mat, he says, “Keep yourself centered, Jax,” then moves on.

What does that mean, exactly? Oh, yes. Women generally have a lower center of gravity than men. In a moment, I know how I can use that. I combine an arm twist with a sweep, and soon I have Sirius at my mercy. If he struggles, I’ll pop his shoulder out of its socket; this is a lovely hold that offers excruciating pain in exchange for little harm.

Constance names the winners: “Jax, Michelin, Koratati, Wells, Jory, Finbar.”

We each take a bow, knowing it’ll come out different tomorrow. After we finish sparring, we begin our cooldown, light exercise designed to enhance stamina and overall fitness. I haven’t felt this strong in ages. Constance watches over us, monitoring our vitals to make sure nobody is pushing too hard.

Later, there will be weapons practice. I had no idea the training would be so complex, but I’m glad for it. I’m starting to feel downright dangerous. All the drilling contributes to a sense of battle-readiness, of course, so we don’t panic when our ship is being blown to bits around us.

I try not to think about that.

Evelyn has adapted well.

I stop by to check on her and find her in the lab. “How are things?”

She pauses in her work to smile at me. There are haunted depths in her dark eyes, but she looks better than she did when we found her on Perlas. “Good. I love working with Saul. He’s brilliant.”

“The way I hear it told, so are you.”

“Well, we make a great team. We’re working with Dina on a biomechanical matrix to make the connection between phase drive and nav com.”

I perk up. “The one that lets the Morgut do direct jumps?”

She confirms with a nod. “That’s the one.”

“Are you close?” This could make the difference for the war effort. I hate that we’ve bumped it ahead of Loras in the queue, but it’s vital.

“I think we might be. But close doesn’t mean much in terms of research. Close could be two days or four years.”

“I understand. There’s no guarantee.”

Evelyn sets her hands on the counter, perfectly at home in Doc’s world. “I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s a joy as a partner: clever, intuitive, methodical.”

Oh, shit. She’s . . . glowing. Listing his accolades like that, you’d think she was saying he’s the man of her dreams. But maybe it’s just the pleasure of working with someone who understands everything she says.

“He’s a smart guy,” I agree. “Keep me posted, will you? If you perfect the biomechanical matrix, we’ll need it installed on all armada ships.”

“Absolutely.”

I step out into the hall. These days, I only have a little free time after my long day of training is done. I intended to find March and spend it with him. Though I don’t yet have the same foreboding I knew on Lachion, I’m not altogether at ease with him going to war once more. The wounds are still fresh, and I’m afraid for him. Killing men up close and personal has been disastrous for him in the past, like on Nicuan, and again on Lachion. My one consolation is that we’ll be engaged in space battles, which may safeguard him somewhat. Regardless, I want to curl up with him for a little while and pretend the rest of the universe doesn’t exist.

On the way, I run into Dina, who’s wearing a look that says she wants something. That never bodes well. I listen to her request with a raised brow, then I sigh. I don’t want to look at more of her schematics. If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a thousand times, I can’t tell whether she’s figured out the design flaw just by looking. Tiredly, I extend a hand for the blasted unit, but she shakes her head.

“I’m sure enough of this mod that I actually incorporated it into the Triumph,” she tells me. “So I want you to come out with me and check it out.”

She’s less cautious than Doc and Evelyn. As scientists, they run countless simulations before they even think of creating a working prototype. Since Dina comes at this from a mechanical standpoint, she prefers trial and error, and so she’s taken all the collective data and started building.

“There’s no way March will approve that. I’m not cleared to leave the station.”

“Then we won’t tell him.”

I sigh, regarding Dina with exasperation. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly,” she confirms.

A jolt of horror runs through me. “You’re asking me to field-test your design.”

“Why not?” she asks blithely. “You’ve got enough experimental tech in you now to be designated as top-tier classified and hidden away from public sight forever.”

She has me there. To my disgust, I find myself considering it. I should be able to validate her theory without jumping. Once I jack in, I’ll be able to see if the necessary connection has been made.

But I made one final objection. “We need a pilot willing—”

“Hit’s already on board.”

Of course she is. Because March and Hon would confine both of us to quarters if they found out we were considering this. I know we need every advantage once we’re on patrol, however. The Morgut can appear anywhere they like, and right now, we’re limited to jumping through known zones, where the cations gather. That means they’ll be faster and more mobile, and the fight may be over by the time we arrive to aid a ship in distress.

“Then let’s go.”

There’s a faintly surreptitious air to our progress since we don’t want to encounter anyone who might inquire what we’re doing. As luck would have it, we reach the hangar quietly, and I board the Triumph. It’s the biggest ship in our Armada currently, and Dina has been rigging the armaments accordingly. Though it was originally intended as a merchant’s yacht, she’s upgraded it considerably.

I find Hit waiting in the cockpit. She flashes me a white, toothy grin. “So she talked you into it? I swear you’re crazier than she is.”

“I’m not taking bets,” I mutter. “Let’s get this over with.”

Sprawling in the nav chair, I admire her graceful way with the ship. Dina’s in engineering, but connected via the comm. “Are we good? I can override the docking controls from here.”

“You’ve been planning this,” I note.

“Too right.” I can hear the grin in her voice, but Surge won’t be amused. Whatever she’s done better not compromise station security, or there will be hell to pay.

“We’re gone in thirty seconds,” Hit cuts in. The tall pilot is all business, focused on her task. When we swoop out of the hangar, it’s graceful as a bird in flight.

“We only need to go a short way out,” I say then. “Make sure the station’s gravitational field doesn’t interfere with our instruments.”

In a good, fast ship like this, that doesn’t take long at all. The stars are so bright through the view screen, they almost blind me, constellations I could never have imagined from New Terra. I remember staring up at them from Wickville, lying in Sebastian’s arms, and thinking, One day . . .

That day has come, and I can’t regret the choices that brought me here within visual range of white-dwarf spirals and the variegated colors of cosmic clouds, older stars glowing gold and the newer ones gleaming blue-white. The loveliness here rivals grimspace.

“I’m powering up the phase drive,” Hit tells Dina. Then to me: “Are you ready?”

Not by half, but this doesn’t have to kill me or boil my blood inside my veins. We’re not even going to jump. Mary, I never thought I’d need to give myself a pep talk before jacking in.

“Hold!” the mechanic shouts. “I’ve got a ship on sensors, and it’s coming in hot.”

Beside me, Hit scrambles, tapping a succession of panels until we, too, share the image. The crazy part is, it’s not hauling fast toward us in straight space. The ship flickers, both here and not here. We couldn’t fire on it if we wanted to right now. We’ve stumbled upon a jump in progress, and since we’re as far from a known jump zone as we can possibly be, this can only be—

“Morgut.” Hit bites off the word like a curse. “Dina, love, get our weapons up. Divert power from the phase drive and split it between cannons and shields.”

“On it.” There’s a reason this ship has engineering adjacent to the gunnery.

Thanks to my combat training, I know what to do. Calm descends over me, and I lean in, daring what I never would’ve before. Coolly, I reroute the lasers to the cockpit, knowing Dina can’t handle both at the same time. The targeting apparatus descends from a compartment in the ceiling, another excellent Dina-mod. Mentally, I thank her while the lasers cycle to readiness. With any luck, given that we came upon them before they were fully acclimated to straight space, we’ll be battle-ready first.

“It’s a scout ship,” Hit reports.

She’s left the comm open, so we can coordinate freely with Dina. I say, “We can’t let them get away. They may not have bounced a message to their fleet yet. There’s no telling whether they’re investigating a rumor or looking for a place to nest.”

“Regardless, we can’t let them carry word about us,” Dina says grimly.