My mother gave all, whatever her reasons. Can I do less?
CHAPTER 55
I slip from the bed when I’m sure he won’t miss me.
There’s no way for me to gauge how long we have. Sooner is better. I scout the place quickly, looking for a ship. My mother had a number of them. There must be one left here suitable for our purposes. And then I find it.
Now I just need a pilot. It takes me only a couple minutes to locate Hit.
She’s not sleeping. I find her standing on a balcony, face turned up. She’s gazing toward New Terra, toward Dina. She turns to me in surprise.
“I’m glad to see you’re all right. That dreadnaught . . .”
I hate what I’m about to ask of her, but I lay it out nonetheless. If I could see another way, I wouldn’t be here. Hit knows as much. I can see it in her eyes. The fact that she hasn’t sent me packing tells me she knows our situation is dire.
“You’ve thought about this a great deal.”
I nod. “I won’t lie to you. It may be our last jump.”
Hit gazes at me squarely; she has a way of cutting to the chase. “Will it save her?”
She’s thinking of Dina, the woman she loves. In my mind’s eye, I see them as they are: dark and light, moon and night. Such things belong together. There is balance in it.
“Since it’ll buy us time if it works, this may be the only thing that can. I don’t know if I can do this, if it’ll shake out like I think it will. It’s a theory, no more.” I smile at her. “But what the hell, you’re a gambler, right?”
“Then Mary grant it’s enough. I’m in.”
“Excellent. There’s a two-seater in the outdoor hangar. It doesn’t have much juice left, and no comfort for a long haul, but the phase drive works.”
“And that’s all we need.”
“Yeah. Meet me there as soon as you can.”
I can’t think about how March is going to react when he discovers I’ve gone. It’s a good thing I learned to partition, or this plan would’ve been doomed before it got off the ground. That’d be too damn bad since it’s our only hope.
“Understood.” She pushes to her feet.
I hesitate. “It’s okay if you take the time to send a message.”
She inclines her head, so tall, proud, and brave that it breaks my heart. I don’t want to take her out there with me, but I can’t do this alone. March would never let me go without him, and the Conglomerate can’t afford to lose him. They need his leadership now, and I—well, at long last, I’m expendable. That renders this suicide run an acceptable risk.
“I won’t do anything to jeopardize the mission.”
“I know you won’t.” With that, I turn and walk away, nothing more to be said.
I spend my last moments on Venice Minor, perhaps my last moments of life, contemplating the past. There are so many people whose lives have touched me, who moved me with their strength or kindness or wisdom. They’ve enriched me and made me better than I ever thought I could be.
The old Jax would never have considered this sacrifice. She considered everyone more disposable than herself; all that mattered was saving her own skin. I’m not that woman anymore, but there’s enough of her left in me that I weep quietly at the prospect of my own end. But I keep my grief locked down, so I don’t broadcast. He’s more attuned to me than anyone else in the world, and if I scream in the silence of my own head even while he’s sleeping, there’s a chance he will hear me.
I can’t let him stop me.
Feeling like this may be the last thing I’ll ever do, I activate the terminal in maintenance. “Record on, highest encryption. This message should only be accessible to Commander March, first squadron, Conglomerate Armada, four hours after creation.” That allows enough time to do what we must but not enough for him to prevent our departure.
“Acknowledged.”
I should’ve checked my reflection before I started this message, but it’s too late now. He’ll see whatever’s there: messy hair, tired face, shadows beneath my eyes. No point in trying to hide from him at this late date anyway. I never could. So I gaze into the vid and speak my piece:
“This is Lieutenant Commander Sirantha Jax, assigned to the Triumph, first squadron, Conglomerate Armada. You will take what I have done as high treason, but I hope you come to realize there was another purpose. I regret leaving you behind more than you know, but it is my hope that I can slow the gathering storm. I hold you in my heart in this final hour. Good-bye, my love.”
That done, I use the indifferent AI to establish my testament, putting all my worldly goods in March’s hands in the event of my death. Constance would’ve known there was something wrong, but she’s on Emry Station, training new soldiers to replace those who fall in battle. Who could’ve ever dreamed that a little PA unit from a backward rock like Lachion would be so important?
Mair did, I expect. I find traces of her in everything we do, as if she looked forward and anticipated what we might need. It’s a pity she didn’t glimpse this and warn me. Then again, maybe she did. Maybe everything that’s happened served to turn me into the kind of person who could step willingly into the abyss. And I only regret I must take Hit with me.
I spare a final thought for distant friends.
Vel is on Ithiss-Tor, putting the finishing touches on the first Ithtorian fleet. I find it ironic that they’ve made him their general after all those years in exile; but he knows what we’re up against, and he can best coordinate their ships. There’s a whole new generation of Ithorian hunters, eager to make their mark upon the galaxy. Their time has come.
Farewell, my dearest white wave.
As if Mary herself sanctifies our plan, I encounter no one on my way to the outdoor hangar. The rest of the crew sleep peacefully, recovering from constant days on call. Hit steps out of the shadows. Dressed in black, she’s no more than a slim shadow herself. We’ve both discarded our uniforms. They have no place in what we’re doing, and we want to leave no doubt that we acted of our own free will. No secret orders, no coercion.
“Do you have the codes?”
I nod. “We’ll have no trouble getting out of here. The ship is authorized for travel, and I’m the commander’s right hand if anyone inquires.”
“You’re his heart, too, and now you’re going to break it.”
“Hearts were made to be broken.” I know that’s not exactly how the quote goes, but it fits our circumstances well enough.
Hit gives me a wry smile, teeth gleaming white. “Then let’s be about it.”
I slide down the hatch behind her. This ship is tiny, hardly more than a skiff. It has no weapons or armor, which means it was the only one left unguarded. Kai and I took one like this when we went to chart a new beacon, and we didn’t want to fool with a medic or a mechanic. It was risky, but that was part of the magic. I was never scared then; I don’t think I had the capacity to see past the thrill: him and me against the whole universe.
It’s not like that now.
She checks the instruments, verifying that the ship will fly. “Everything looks good.”
At her nod I input the departure codes. I selected this time of day for our getaway because there’s only a skeleton crew on duty. By the time anyone realizes a ship has gone missing, it will be too late.
The horizon will be dark for hours yet. Stars hang heavy overhead, but I take no comfort in their beauty, knowing that the Morgut fleet will be mobilizing soon if we don’t do something about it. Therefore, Hit takes us smoothly into the sky. We don’t have the power to jet away from Venice Minor’s gravity, but this little ship has heart.
She flies for a while in silence. Her profile is lovely. I watch her for a moment, trying not to let fear take root.
“How did you end up with Madame Kang?” It seems like I should know more about her if she’s going to hell with me.
“She raised me. She took in street girls, trained them in her art.”
“So you were taught to kill as a child?” I try not to sound judgmental.
“Among other things.” She glances at me then. “You think it was a hideous life, but we were happy. She treated us well.”
“You mourned when she died.”
“Didn’t you when you lost your mother?” Her mouth twists. “Eh, never mind.”
I consider that. “I do, actually. But she died well.”
It wasn’t sacrifice. Ramona didn’t have the heart for that. On consideration—and remembering her answer to my message—I know now why she did it. Defiance, pure and simple: You shall not have what is mine. That doesn’t render it any less magnificent. For the first time in more years than I can recall, I am proud to be her daughter.
“That she did. Jax, watching that feed . . . I had chills.”
“So did half the known universe,” I admit. “So perhaps she got what she wanted in the end, pure renown.”
She checks the instruments. “We’re far enough away now, I think.”
As the phase drive powers up, I see a shimmer through the view screen: scout ships, the vanguard of the Morgut fleet arriving to renew their assault on Venice Minor. There will be more dreadnaughts, more death. Once they win here, they will push farther, all the way to our homeworld. We have to stop them. Now. Before they leave grimspace. Or New Terra is doomed, and humanity with it.
Such long odds. Such a dark prospect. Hit smiles at me and touches my hand. In her eyes, I see all the reasons why we’re doing this: everyone we’ve left behind. They may never know what we do out here. It will have to be enough.
I jack in. There’s a known jump zone not too far from Venice Minor, but we can’t risk running into the scout ships, so it has to be a direct jump. This little ship has no special coupling to open the way, so I do it with my body and my will, grimspace blazing through me like a lover’s touch; Doc’s implant regulates it for me, and the blockers take the pain. We jump.
The colors fill my head in an incandescent rush: streaking sanguine and silver, azure and viridian, until we pass the corridor and enter grimspace proper, where the colors become waves. It doesn’t matter which beacon I target, so I cue Hit at random. If this works, any of them will do, as the new pulse resonates through the others, changing them with its unique tone. They’re a network, and they form a pattern; most likely if I could view it in entirety, it would match the one we’ve installed on the Triumph in miniature, what the Morgut have on their ships. This will be a thousand times more intense than the repairs Kai and I did, because simple mental manipulation won’t be enough.
I must commit to the task fully, and if I fail, then we die in obscurity. We have precious little time now. Grimspace will drain us fast.
But first I have to warn her. I don’t know what’ll happen when I leave my body. I may not be able to guide you back.
She conveys a mental shrug. Her mind is disciplined and steady; she has no fear. I’m willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, if that’s how it has to be.