Wanderlust (Sirantha Jax 2)

We talk a little longer, discussing our game plan. Hit rolls up with a bag strapped to her back, looking elegant and dangerous. “We ready?” she asks.

“Lucky break. I found us a new pilot.” I don’t pose it as a question.

We need her, so it’s not open to discussion.

Everyone turns to gape at me, but Dina recovers first. “What about March?”

“He’s staying,” I answer.

“Give me five minutes with him. Don’t go anywhere.” The mechanic’s mouth firms into an angry white line. With that she whips away.

Maybe she’ll convince him where I couldn’t. Either way, Jael doesn’t seem concerned. Not surprising, he doesn’t know March well. But I do notice him inspecting Hit’s wrist without any particular subtlety.

“You can take us up?” the merc asks her. “What rigs have you flown?”

She gives him a toothy smile. “You let me worry about that, pretty boy. Find me a ship, and I’ll fly the shit out of it.”

While they lapse into quiet banter, Vel surprises me with a soft touch on the shoulder. “Are you all right?”

I register his sympathy with a certain amount of irony. The least human among us offers me the most emotional support, it seems. I move my shoulders in an unconvincing shrug.

“I will be.”

Someday.

Even if I can’t imagine that day right now, with the loss so fresh, it’ll come. Pain always fades. If I learned nothing else from life, I’ve certainly mastered that.

More than five minutes pass while we wait for Dina. When she returns, her blue eyes look grim, and she won’t meet my gaze.

“Let’s go,” she says tersely. “We’ve wasted enough time here.”

Taking that as his cue, Vel tinkers with the motion sensors set at the south tunnel. “This will disable them long enough for us to get past without raising an alarm. They’ll come back online in sixty seconds, so we need to be quick.”

I nod. “Noted. Let’s get Dina through first.”

She bitches, “What am I, bait?”

But I notice she doesn’t hesitate to whip around the barricade and out into the tunnel beyond, faster than me, and I’m hot on her heels. The rest join us in record time. Behind us, I hear the beep that means their motion sensor has come back online, preventing the McCulloughs from sneaking up their backsides. Mentally, I wish them luck with it, but we have our own battle to fight now.

Mary, I hope we’re not running in the dark. Vel may have senses that can compensate, but the rest of us are only human. I don’t think this group will be as sympathetic to my irrational fear either. They’re not like Doc. They won’t be patient and understanding about it.

To my vast relief, Jael cracks a torch-tube, and the sickly yellow-green light sizzles into existence, dispelling the hungry shadows to a greater distance. They’re not gone entirely, but I can breathe now despite the heavy stone that entombs us.

My palms feel sweaty, but I’ll deal. We don’t have any Psi with us to reveal how much bravado factors into my façade. I tell myself that’s a good thing as I fall in behind Vel.

The merc leads the way, weapons in hand. Jael wields a shockstick in one, a sonicblade in the other, and looks as though he’ll be lethal in a fight. I’m overly conscious of our breathing, the scrape of our boots against the rock floor.

I don’t know how far we’ve come. I just watch Vel’s back and put one foot in front of the other. The bounty hunter monitors our twists and turns. If anyone can get us out of this, he can. He’s my miracle man.

Despite Doc’s assurances, I fear that the Teras might have found a way in. Who knows how they burrow? If they turn their claws to it, I bet they could tear through the cave walls and into the warren leading to the bunker.

Maybe that’s what drives the McCullough retreat. As soon as they get clear, they’ll send the Teras in somehow. I shudder, thinking along those lines. I remember all too well how their wings sounded swarming around me in the night, the screams of the dying, and the grotesque sight of bloodied body parts arcing into the wind, devoured in an invisible monstrous feast.

I’m so busy reliving old nightmares that I don’t know we’ve got company until Dina shouts. The disruptor in her hand flashes with a wild shine, and someone screams in agony. Wherever she hit him will be raw meat, flesh scrambled inside out. Unless she hit him in the heart or the head, shock will kill him, not the injury itself.

As we get nearer, I see five McCullough scouts, red-eyed and rough. Dina has already dropped one, and she stays near the back, waiting for the weapon to cycle back up for another shot. The other three leap into the fray with a ferocity that steals my breath.

I pause, whip out my own shockstick, and assume the position in front of Dina. If anyone gets through our first line, I’m not letting them get to her. I hear her snort at my protective position, but she doesn’t protest.

Our new pilot wades in with her bare hands, assuming a fighting crouch that tells me she’s had extensive hand-to-hand training. She validates her nickname by dodging a sloppy lunge and lays her first opponent out with an open-hand blow to his brow. He goes down like a stone.

I’m amused when she flashes me a grin. “I wasn’t bragging, y’know.”

Vel carries hooked blades that he uses as an extension of his hands. Watching him fight, I realize they’re intended to substitute for his hidden claws. Beside him, Jael spins like a dervish; he’s all offense, all insane fury. He doesn’t bother trying to protect himself, but then, I know why.

One of the McCulloughs dodges past, evidently thinking he’ll use Dina as a hostage. I know what he figures. I’m small, weak. I’m no threat at all.

Well, the enforced rest has done me good, and after losing March, I feel like a fight. “You should run,” I tell him with a feral grin.

I’m Sirantha Jax, and I have had enough.

* * *

CHAPTER 34

The close confines of the tunnel favor the quick. l dodge a jab and wind to deliver a stinging blow to his right arm. I know from experience, he’ll feel numb from the shoulder down for at least an hour.

These McCulloughs aren’t as big as Gunnar lugs, but they’re faster by comparison, and desperation lends them strength. They know if they don’t kill us, they don’t leave here alive. No prisoners, no exceptions.

“I’m gonna break your neck, bitch.” His breath reeks from two paces away. They must’ve been down here a long time. “And then I’ll do your crippled friend.”

“You’ll need two good hands for that.” I toss the shockstick between my hands, distracting him from Dina. The weapon hums with the motion, providing a bass beat for the symphony of grunts and groans.

He lunges at me, probably trying to work a lock. I whirl away, never taking my eyes off him, but he manages to sink a fist into my side. The breath wheezes out of me. I take a moment to be grateful he didn’t stress any of my bones, and then he bull-rushes, slams me into the wall. Pain sparks down my spine. I’m slower than I used to be, and he’s like a mad beast.

In retaliation, I drive all my weight onto his foot. When he winces, I go for his eyes. There’s a soft squish, and he screams like men shouldn’t, all upper register and pure anguish. I shudder, but don’t hesitate to follow up with a shockstick upside his head. Then he falls, a dull, heavy sound.

Dina holds her fire, too risky now that our bodies are between her and the enemy. I’m glad she doesn’t want to rearrange our molecules. Shaking, I wipe my fingers on my pants. I can smell the blood, a sweet, coppery tang.

If I can, the Teras can. I try to strangle the thought, but it takes root like a poisonous vine.

“Thanks,” Dina mutters. “You know when I get off this thing, I’m gonna repay you for that.”

I don’t comment, though I hope she’ll regain full use of her leg. Doc set her up with an immuno-implant to keep her from rejecting the new limb. He also prescribed a strict regimen of exercises. She’s limped a step or two on her own, but the days when she stomps around like she used to are a long way off.

The other three fight with a grace that calls to mind a brutal piece of choreography. I’m afraid I’d just get in the way, so I continue to guard Dina while nursing my sore back. Once all the McCulloughs hit the ground, Jael kneels and cuts their throats with a murderous efficiency that makes me look away. His pale eyes glitter in the torch-tube’s citrine glow.

“I don’t want them on our backtrail,” he says briefly.

“Noted.” I maneuver past the bodies.

Stepping over sends a shock all the way down my legs. I wonder if I’ve dislocated something. It occurs to me that, thus far, my role as ambassador hasn’t been as cushy as one might expect.

Dina whirs forward on her sled, and Vel takes point again. He glances back long enough to ask, “Everyone all right?”

“Couldn’t be better.” Yes, I exaggerate.

“Fine,” Hit answers with a smile. “But the smell is nasty. Let’s get on.”

Nobody else seems to notice that a long slash on Jael’s arm has now closed itself up. His blood-soaked clothing offers camouflage as well. With everything happening at once and the uncertain light, it’s easy to miss, or to think you were mistaken. I know better.

My bodyguard falls in behind me, serving as rear guard. “Thanks,” he murmurs, low. “Most of this crew doesn’t know anything about me, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

I shrug. “We all have shit we’d rather didn’t come to light. In your case, though, Jael, you didn’t do anything. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“That hasn’t stopped people trying to kill me just to see how long it’ll take for me to die,” he returns. “And let’s not even get started with the zealots.”

“Fair enough.”

I push down the raw grief clawing at me, trying to compartmentalize. At this moment I need another Jax, one who’s tough and capable, but she won’t manifest. I can’t banish this loss as I have so many others. March got to me the way nobody ever has, burrowed beneath my skin in a way that I don’t think I’ll ever get over him. And I’ve lost enough people to know.

Glenna, my best friend from the academy, burned out faster than most. She was twenty-three when she died. I said some empty words at her service, took some mental-health days, and drank myself stupid in some scroungy spaceport bar. And I haven’t thought about her in ten turns. Odd that her memory would surface here, now.

I shake off the melancholy, noticing that the tunnels seem to be sloping up. At first I’m not sure because it’s subtle, but as we go along, I decide the bounty hunter’s leading us in the right direction. The new pilot sticks close to Vel, shadowing him as he guides us around corners. His handheld feeds him data he doesn’t bother sharing. We only need to know about bad news coming at us.

So much stone. The ceilings are barely tall enough for Hit to pass without stooping. She’s easily as tall as Jael. I draw my fingers along the walls as we move, listening for the telltale sound of wings.