Aftermath (Sirantha Jax 5)

Eventually, I make the meeting at Carvati’s, where I find my “longtime Ithtorian companion” waiting on the platform. It’s an amazing view from the aerie, breathtaking even.

Vel knows me too well to accept the assurance that I’m fine. “He hurt you?”

He’s not talking about the wound on my head, either. “No more than he had to. His nephew comes first.”

He offers a mute nod, then changes the subject, more of his quiet perception. “The implant went well.”

I watch as he flexes his claws. “It doesn’t show.”

“Carvati is good. And it appears that Zeeka does, indeed, possess the J-gene.”

I wonder if the fact that we jumped while he was a tiny hatchling has anything to do with his yen for grimspace. If he’d been a human child, we wouldn’t have done it. Long ago, I discriminated against Loras because he’s not human. Frag, I hope I don’t do that to Vel.

“That’s good news for Z. He’d be crushed to fail his test.”

Vel tilts his head toward the clinic. “Shall we go talk to the man?”

The bot in reception is different from the one Carvati used the last time we visited. Not surprising, I suppose, that he would upgrade in five turns, but it’s another reminder of how long we were gone. Vel shares a look with me that tells me he feels it, too, that sense of being unconnected to the right time stream. Maybe it’s a side effect of gate travel and will wear off soon. I hope.

Once he hears we’ve arrived, Carvati comes to greet us personally. “So good to see both of you. I’d heard you were lost.”

“It’s a long story,” I say, not that I’m eager to tell it again.

But he’s a businessman and respects my reticence. “Understandable, and we have more important issues at hand.”

“Right. How’s the cure coming along?”

Carvati sighs. “Stalled, I’m afraid. I’m missing some vital link. I’ve tried 285 different formulations, and so far the results in the simulations have varied from awful to catastrophic. Our knowledge at this time is insufficient to fix what we broke in the La’heng.”

Dammit.

“It’s not your fault,” I say, heavy with disappointment. I’d hoped this quest could distract me from the wreckage of my personal life. “If it can’t be done with current data, it can’t. I never expected the impossible.”

Except from me, Doc says in my head. Ten times before breakfast.

“Do you have time to evaluate the Maker data we retrieved?” Vel asks. “There might be something that could illuminate your work on the cure.”

“That would be nice,” Carvati mutters.

I decide not to badger him. That never helps. “Then we’ll talk about it after you check the Maker archives.”

“I’m honored you’re permitting me a look, but you understand it will take some time for me to sort and analyze. Do you trust me not to retain a copy and attempt to undercut you?”

Vel’s mandible flares. “I will trust you as soon as we work out a contract with suitably severe penalties if such an unfortunate incursion of my intellectual property should occur.”

Carvati laughs, unoffended by this caution. “I would act the same. Shall we meet with my solicitors?”

“Will you excuse us, Sirantha? This could take hours.”

CHAPTER 37

With a nod, I return to Mikhail’s, where I avoid the others. I’m not ready to do a play-by-play on how it went with March. Or anything else, really. I should be excited about training the first Mareq jumper, but right now I hurt too much.

So I send Dina a message, asking her to watch out for Zeeka in my absence. For the next few days, I hibernate. I tell myself the quiet is good for me, and I won’t let my door admit anyone. Even Vel respects my need to hole up after a couple of attempts to talk to me.

It’s been a while since we landed on Gehenna when my comm beeps. Because I’m starting to get bored with my isolation, I answer, and Carvati’s excited face pops up on the vid. “I have phenomenal news. Amazing, truly.”

That perks me right up. “What?”

“Remember how I said we didn’t know enough to make the cure work?”

I nod.

“Well, I finished analyzing the Maker data . . . and we do now. What I’ve learned from their records about genetic manipulation is astonishing. Over the last four days, I’ve run eight hundred tests in the simulation, and the new vaccine has a ninety-eight percent success rate.”

Mary, that’s a lot. So he’s done it, and he’s sure. My heart lightens a little. Our journey to the other ’verse mattered. It will set the La’heng free. Frag me. This makes the long trial worthwhile. Though it’s screwed my personal life beyond hope for redemption, at least I can push forward now. Relief floods through me. It means I can finish what I’ve started at long last.

“What do you need from me?”

“Ideally, a volunteer of pure La’heng stock willing to undergo an experimental procedure.”

I know just the person for this job. “Let me make a few calls and get back to you.”

“Very well, Ms. Jax. Let me know when you’re ready to proceed.” Visibly exhausted, he cuts the call.

After cleaning up, I sit down at the comm station, my hair pulled back into my lieutenant’s twist, professional and contained. That’s the image I want to convey now. After inputting the only comm code I have for Hon, I say:

“Carvati has devised a cure, but we need someone to test it. That means you, Loras. We can’t move forward without you. Come to Gehenna, as soon as you can, if you were serious about wanting to set your people free. Send.” The voice command activates the vid-mail protocol, and my message bounces out. Where they are will determine how long the vid takes to arrive.

There are a ton of old messages for me to sort through after my long retreat from the world, including one from Nola Hale. That one I play, because I’m interested in what became of Pandora. My former barrister appears on-screen, looking competent and attractive, as ever. “Since you paid for her legal counsel, I thought you’d want to know Pandora’s verdict. I got her acquitted, Ms. Jax. I believe she intends to track you down and thank you personally.”

Now, that’s good news. I ignore a couple of messages from Tarn and delete them. The rest of my messages are from March and Dina, kind of a log of their search. From the tone they take toward the end, I suspect they didn’t think they’d see me again. I watch the ones from March four times before deciding I’m being maudlin.

It’s funny.

I was missing five turns, and March never reported me dead to claim my assets. My ex-husband, Simon, did so within a matter of days, and I had far fewer credits in the bank then. But in my absence, the wrongful-death claims have been piling up. Vel pays them while we’re waiting for Hon and Loras to arrive on world.

A wicked melancholy has fallen on him since we returned, and I know why. He has such memories here, a whole other life within the dome, and it is over now, that chapter closed for all time. And I am not Adele; I lack her patience, her kindness, and her sweetness.

For so long, I focused on getting back to our world, only to return and find it’s reshaped itself in my absence. I don’t doubt March still loves me, but I fear there might not be room for me in the new life he’s built. Fortunately, after I emerge from my room, the others don’t give me time to dwell on my fears. Hit and Dina keep me busy showing Zeeka the sights. I’ll take him with me to La’heng and start training him as I did Argus. I’ve learned from my mistakes, though, and I’m not doing it without having Carvati run a complete medical panel on him to see where he stands on the longevity chart.

We do that while we’re waiting for the Dauntless.

Fortunately, Zeeka is a good candidate. “Maybe one of the best I’ve ever seen,” Carvati says.

The young Mareq swells with pride. Literally. His chest and throat puff with air, and his wide mouth gapes in his version of a smile. Yeah, he’s happy to hear it.

“I will sail the stars, just like Jax Oonan,” he croaks.

“Just Jax is fine.” I prefer he doesn’t call me that. Vel and I know I haven’t earned that title, and I’d like to forget everything we went through.

Well, maybe not everything. I wouldn’t rescind my request for Vel to wear my colors. Odd that he hasn’t brought it up. We could probably get it taken care of here. Gehenna offers just about every vice known to man.

Zeeka stays with Dr. Carvati to get his universal chip and the vocalizer to utilize it. He’s such a bold, bright spirit that he doesn’t even seem afraid although the technology seems magical to him. Deep down, I have some doubts about him as a jumper because he doesn’t understand this life. He’s just constantly amazed by everything. But maybe a jolt of his wonder and innocence is just what this jaded galaxy needs. I’m done trying to decide what’s best for other people; if his mother acknowledged him as a “sovereign being” and let him go off into the unknown, then who I am to deny his dream?

A week after my bounce, I get a reply from Loras. “We’ll be there in two days.”

Of course, this message is already two days old. Which means I can expect them anytime now . . . and I’m excited. I haven’t seen either Hon or Loras since before my incarceration—frag, not since the Battle of Venice Minor. Even then, I didn’t see them on the way to my trial.

Four hours later, my personal comm beeps. “Jax.”

Hon’s dark, smiling face appears on my wrist. He’s grown his pirate braids back but replaced his gold teeth with circumspect white. “I brought you a willing La’heng test subject. Where should I deliver him?”

“Frag you,” I hear Loras mutter.

“We’re staying at a place called Mikhail’s, near the market. If you want to drop your things here, we can proceed directly to Carvati’s clinic. I know he’s eager to get going.”

“As am I,” Loras says.

At last, everything feels like it’s coming together. Zeeka should be recovered from his minor elective surgery when we present ourselves for Loras’s treatment. This means we’re about ready to leave Gehenna and head for La’heng, provided this treatment works. Please, please let it work. If it doesn’t, I have no further options, as the only person who might’ve achieved this, other than Carvati, died on Venice Minor. Guilt accompanies that thought, but there are no amends I can make.

An hour later, I meet Hon and Loras downstairs in the lounge. Hon grabs me up in a bone-crushing hug and twirls me around; the war hasn’t crushed his big, big spirit. And even Loras looks stronger than he did when I first saw him on Emry Station; apparently working with Hon has been good for him. Loras offers a hand, and I use it to pull him into an embrace.

“Told you I’d work on the problem for you.”

“You mean contract it out,” Hon corrects with a roguish grin.

“Close enough. I know Loras didn’t expect me to handle the science stuff on my own.”