“I thought Doc would do it,” he says quietly.
I sober instantly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” Hon asks. “You weren’t bombing Venice Minor.”
Mary help me, but I can’t bring myself to explain how Doc and Evie came to die. Only Vel knows that they were likely responding to our comm chatter when we warned the fleet overhead. They were coming to help us—save us—and probably show us their hiding place . . . and I got them killed. I chose March over any other. And maybe that’s why this separation fills me with such anguish . . . because what I did spikes a needle of shame straight through my heart every time I think of March.
“Survivor’s guilt,” Loras suggests.
And I let that explanation stand. “Why don’t you get a room and run your bags up? Then we can head to Carvati’s.”
Hon nods. “Be right back.”
While I wait, I nurse a drink. Mikhail’s is pretty laid- back, which is why we chose it for our headquarters, but you can’t hang around the lounge if you don’t buy something. As I sit, Vel joins me, and shortly thereafter, Hit, Dina, and Argus as well.
That raises my brows. “We’re all going?”
Dina nods. “We all have a vested interest at this point.”
“But I wanted to chat with you.” This, from Hit. She has a glass of something red and sweet-looking in one hand.
“Go.”
“We’ve been talking . . .” That has to mean her, Dina, and Argus. Together, they’ve been running missions on the Big Bad Sue for turns now.
“What about?” I ask.
“We’ll take you as far as La’heng, but after that, we need to get back to business. We didn’t agree to sit around while you lobby for approval, bribe officials, or whatever you’re going to need to do in order to finish this for Loras. “
Hit sounds harsh, but I know she doesn’t mean it that way. And she’s right. This is my personal quest. I don’t want anyone sitting dirtside if they’d rather be out on the Star Road. Frag, I’d rather be out there, too, but I have to keep this promise, or I won’t enjoy my freedom later.
This is the final price for everything I’ve done. I realize no amount of goodwill bring back the people who died because of my actions, but nothing less can assuage my conscience. If I can succeed in this, then I may experience some measure of peace. I can go out into the beauty of red dwarves, gas giants, asteroid fields, and uncharted wonders with an unfettered spirit.
I glance between Dina and Argus. “You both agree?”
Neither hesitates to meet my gaze as they nod. I get it. I was gone a long-ass time, and they have a new life. One I’m not part of. They have their own jumper, even, one I trained. I know I’m leaving Hit and Dina in good hands with him.
“If you’re all right with it, I have one stop before La’heng. Then once you drop us off on world, I won’t expect anything more. If not, I can find another ship.” I don’t mean to sound terse, but I guess I do. Despite my intellectual understanding, I’m a little hurt. Dina’s my best pal, or she was, but I was gone, and she moved on.
“Don’t take it like that,” Dina says with a faint sigh. “We’ll always be your friends, dumb-ass. But we just can’t stay dirtside.”
“I know.” And I do. I wish I didn’t have to. But it’s the last link in the chain holding me to my former life. When I finish this quest, I’ll be free to fly.
CHAPTER 38
Zeeka comes through the surgery with his natural exuberance intact. The upshot of that is that he can now question everyone else without need for translation. Just now, he’s badgering Hit about why she’s a different color from everyone else.
“What is the purpose of your darkness?” he asks.
She eyes him. “It makes me pretty.”
“You are painted for beauty?”
Hit grins, flashing white teeth. “I like to think so.”
“Me, too,” Hon puts in.
Zeeka looks as though he cannot decide whether they’re telling him the truth. “The others are ugly?”
I suspect to Zeeka, much like Vel, we’re all ugly. Suppressing a grin, I wait to see how Hit will handle this question. Dina’s tapping a foot, one brow raised.
“Beauty comes in many shades,” Loras offers. “And it is made dearer by attachment between sentient beings.”
“Love makes the ugly beautiful?” Poor Zeeka is really confused now.
“It does,” Vel says. And he’s looking at me when he says it.
Maybe he’s thinking of Adele. I remember in the story he told me that day before we visited her, he mentioned that he didn’t find her attractive at first—that none of her features appealed to him. But he came to see past it in time because she had so many other lovely qualities. There’s such sweetness in that.
This is typical of how we spend an afternoon while Loras completes his treatments. He’s receiving a series of injections, one a day for seven days. This incremental approach permits his adaptive physiology to process the chemical neurological change at a safe rate. At the end of that time, he’ll either be cured, or insane with bloodlust. His people, before humanity rendered them docile, had more than their share of aggression. They were insanely fierce and completely xenophobic, so it’s not a stretch to imagine the manner in which this could turn bad. Since he told Carvati he’d rather die this way than in servitude, I figure it’s a good risk.
Still, I can’t help fear for my friend. I’ve only just got him back in my life. I’m not ready to lose him again so soon.
This is the seventh day, and we’re killing time before his last treatment. Vel reprogrammed the servo-bots at Mikhail’s to offer selections more savory for him and Zeeka. While we can eat some of the same things, our palates are a bit different.
“It’s time,” Hit says.
As one, we rise and head for the hover cab. I love flying in Gehenna because there’s relatively little traffic. It takes three tries to find a vehicle large enough for all of us, but we squeeze in, and the bot asks us our destination.
“Carvati’s clinic.”
“Thank you. Enjoy the ride.”
Shortly, the hover cab deposits us on the platform outside. Loras leads the way, coldly determined to find out whether he’ll die a monster or become a free man. The receptionist waves us back to Carvati’s private lab. As always, he evokes echoes of Doc, but I push down the sorrow. It’s not the time.
“Loras?” In that one word, Carvati asks if he’s ready to proceed.
He responds with a slow nod. The doctor turns to the rest of us. “If you could wait in the next room?”
This is standard. The lot of us exit into an open space that appears to be used for training. I can’t imagine what Carvati does in here, but it’s part of his lab complex. Maybe it’s to test certain cybernetic upgrades, as he does a wide range of procedures.
“Nervous?” I ask Hon. If this works, he’s losing his status as shinai.
“This is what he wants.” Deep down, he’s not as mean as his reputation suggests—and maybe that’s the secret. If gossip does most of the heavy lifting, he doesn’t actually have to rape and maim his way through the galaxy.
We wait an hour before Carvati and Loras join us. He doesn’t look any different, so that’s a good sign. If he’d been overwhelmed by bloodlust, he would be snarling and trying to kill us all. Instead, he looks much as he ever does, blue-eyed and fair-haired, with a beautiful face, faintly etched with lines earned by hard experience.
“I need a volunteer,” Carvati says.
“Hon.” Loras doesn’t wait to see who will speak.
The pirate steps forward. “Aye?”
Loras smiles. “Hit me.”
He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t hit him like a man, either. Instead, it’s an open-faced slap, which feels like an insult. Loras responds immediately, his grin widening; he unloads a flurry of punches on the bigger man’s upper body. Hon tries to block, and though he’s bigger, he’s nowhere near fast enough. Loras has been saving this rage for turns, and there’s no denying it. He kicks the living shit out of Hon before Carvati grabs him. The pirate staggers back, bracing on the wall, with genuine surprise. This is why we pacified the La’hengrin, but we didn’t have that right.
“How do you feel?” Carvati asks.
Loras bends over, breathing hard. “Free, like something unlocked in my head. Before, no matter how furious I was, I couldn’t do that. It felt like I had strings attached. But they’ve been cut, and I’m a puppet no longer.”
I cheer and give him a big hug. He shoves me back . . . mostly because he can, I suspect. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”
“Sorry.” But I’m smiling, and so is he. “So what do you think? Should we carry Carvati’s Cure to La’heng and free your people?”
Loras nods. “Absolutely. Today, this is my independence day. And I dream that eventually, all La’hengrin will know this joy. If you help me achieve this, you will be the best friend I’ve ever known.”
I feel like that’s expiation, and a goal worth striving for, because he doesn’t offer friendship lightly. I once left him to die, and if he can forgive me that, then maybe I’m not beyond all saving. Mary, please, let me succeed in this. I’m not selfless enough to want to do it for the sake of all the enslaved La’heng. I want to do this for Loras to prove I’m not a selfish ass. And there’s some self-serving agenda tangled up in it, but doesn’t it matter more what you do rather than why?
“I’ll go get the ship ready,” Dina says. “I guess we’ll be leaving soon.”
Hit nods in agreement. They take Argus and Zeeka when they go; both males are eager to get into grimspace, Argus because he’s a junkie, and Zeeka because he aspires to Argus’s status as a veteran jumper. I find it adorable the way Zeeka dogs Argus, trying to imitate him. Which leaves Hon regarding Loras with one hand pressed to his injured side. I’d bet he has broken ribs, based on his ginger movements.
“This is good-bye, I think. No hard feelin’s?”
“If I see you again,” Loras says, smiling, “I’ll probably kill you. You treated me like a pet, one you expected to forage for its own food.”
Hon shrugs. “It made you stronger, didn’t it?”
Loras doesn’t answer, letting the man go. His ship waits for him, along with the rest of his crew, at least the ones who survived Venice Minor. He’s still running under Armada colors, and he has a galaxy to patrol. To my vast amusement, they promoted him when March stepped down, and now he carries the title of commander, along with all the privileges of rank.
Vel, Loras, and I walk out of the training room together. Loras holds himself differently, his shoulders straighter. I see a glimmer of the fierce warriors that my people could not conquer, and so chose to defeat in a bloodless coup. The knowledge makes me sick. But I’m trying to right the wrong even if I had nothing to do with it personally. That’s kind of the point—to fix something I didn’t break. I don’t kid myself it will change any of the harm I’ve inflicted, but it will comfort the soul Adele taught me to believe in, the quiet, smoky thing that lives at the heart of me and occasionally whispers at me that I can do better.