Damn, I’m getting soft.
“Nobody has cared about what was right on La’heng since your people came and changed us,” Loras bites out.
I’m used to his rage; it doesn’t offend me. But it’s nice when Zhan says, “Enough. Save your anger for our enemies.”
Then Zhan sketches a half bow that reminds me of a wa. My chip seeks its meaning, but there is none. Or rather, it’s gibberish. His fingers, hands, and elbows don’t speak the silent language. They are only movements and angles, lacking all poetry.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell the other La’hengrin.
Loras puts a hand on my arm, drawing me out of the prison area, down the corridor toward R&D. “Have you spoken to March?”
“About what?”
He offers a half smile. “Anything. There’s a pool running on how long you stay mad at him. If you make up today, I win seven hundred credits.”
I sigh. “But I’m still pissed off.”
How come when a woman does what makes her happy, she’s selfish? When I remember what he said, my head feels like it’ll explode. It hurt each time he left, but I never thought he was egotistical for doing what he thought was right. That’s a double standard, and I won’t put up with it. I need to talk to him, but I’ve got to cool off first, or I’ll throw words like knives. Those wounds don’t heal because you can’t unsay verbal cruelties; they linger in the memory like poison, and sometimes “sorry” isn’t enough.
Loras shrugs, philosophical. “It was worth a shot.”
For the next few hours, we go over some experimental tech that R&D has been working on under Constance’s watchful eye. There’s paint with microcircuitry that evokes a shifting camouflage effect, which can be applied to armor or vehicles. They’re also developing a weapon that mounts on your forearm and strikes with the power of a ship laser. Perfect for the soldier on the move. Unfortunately, it overheats too fast, and there are still bugs to be excised.
After it nearly blows the arm off the dummy holding it during the tests, I say, “Maybe it’s not quite ready.”
The head tech nods. “But the camo paint is good to go.”
“Thanks,” Loras says. “I’ll let them know in the docking bay. We’ll get it on all our vehicles.”
Two days later, I still haven’t spoken to March. I told him to go, and he’ll respect my need to cool down until I offer an olive branch. I appreciate his patience. Zhan says he’s busy with Sasha’s TK training, working with the soldiers on hand-to-hand combat and techniques for ambush, using the terrain to provide cover for an attack. Since the La’hengrin are newly restored to their ability to fight, they need the education. The recruits have excellent agility and natural reflexes to go along with their knack for languages. Most aren’t as strong as a human, but their speed and natural ferocity make them devilish opponents. I can’t think of anyone better suited than March for teaching them how to kick ass.
That day, I’m on my way to find Zeeka when Sasha stops me. “Whatever my dad did, he’s sorry. Did you guys fight because of me? It probably was about me.”
Mary, I remember being this positive the universe revolved around me. Sadly, I wasn’t twelve at the time.
“Hi, Sasha, how are you?” I grin at him.
“Hi, fine, can we resolve this please?” He’s getting some attitude, and he wears it well. I like cocky in a kid. Makes him seem less fragile.
“Are you acting as his emissary?”
“His what?” He frowns, which is kind of cute. “Do you mean, did he send me?”
“Yeah.”
“No, he doesn’t know I came looking for you. I’m supposed to be practicing.”
“TK?”
“I’m so sick of it.” He sounds bummed.
Not wanting to discuss my personal life with a kid, I try to change the subject. “Do you miss the kids at your school?”
“Some. Hey, don’t distract me. You have to talk to my dad, okay? Please?”
Apparently, I’m a soft touch when a kid gazes at me with soulful eyes and offers the magic word. “Will you work on your exercises if I promise to find March?”
He puts out a hand. “Deal.”
Stifling a sigh, I take it. Then Sasha runs off. I touch my comm. “Where’s March?”
“In the barracks, Sirantha Jax.” Constance still hasn’t stopped calling me by my full name. I’m sure she does it just to screw with me. Some days, in fact, I suspect she downloaded special software that lets her approximate a sense of humor, messing with people using some kind of sophisticated algorithm.
“Thanks.”
No time like the present. I jog toward the barracks, lifting a hand now and then to the La’hengrin. We have to increase our numbers—and that’s the next step. There’s no mass delivery system that permits personal choice, so it’ll take a while. Fortunately, there’s no deadline for saving the world.
I arrive outside the room where March is teaching. Before he spots me, I take cover in the doorway, watching him drill. He’s broken them into pairs, as he did in the combat program he ran for the Conglomerate. Memories take me; I remember when I was a soldier under his command. But that’s a bittersweet memory, like so many of them.
I wait until the class ends. He talks with a few La’hengrin, his harsh features radiating camaraderie. This is good for him, I think. He needs a purpose.
March spies me as he heads for the door, then draws up short. His features lose that easy air he had with the men, maybe because he doesn’t know what to do with me. He’s always sure around soldiers; he’s got experience with them. From what he told me once, I’m the only woman he’s ever loved. The rest, he paid for an hour of their time.
I open strong. “So Sasha bribed me to come talk to you.”
“Oh?” Flicker of amusement. “What’d he offer?”
“To do his TK practice.”
“You mean he wasn’t? Dammit.”
“Cut the kid a break. He was worried about you.”
March sighs, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah, he’s been bugging me to talk to you. I kept telling him you’d come when you were ready.”
“Thanks for not pushing,” I say softly.
He takes a step toward me. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded, Jax. It’s not bad that you’ll never lose yourself in someone else. It’s part of what makes you strong.”
He’s said that about me before—that I’m the strongest person he’s ever met. I tend to think I’m dumb. No matter how many times I get knocked down, I always stagger up again. If I had a brain in my head, sometimes after one of those hits, I’d just kiss dirt a little while. Save myself the pain. But I always find myself on my feet, swinging wide, no matter what.
“I get it. But here’s the thing…it’s not selfish to make the right choices for me, whatever they might be. If you want a woman who settles down, who’ll work that rutabaga farm with you”—smiling, I mention the offer he made me so long ago—“well, I’m not her. I never will be. And I won’t feel guilty over it, either.”
“I don’t expect you to. I am sorry, Jax.”
I nod. “Forgiven. Let’s spend our last few days together, okay?”
When March arches a brow, I realize he doesn’t know. It’s up to me to tell him. “I’m shipping out soon.”
CHAPTER 16
March takes the news better than I expected…and we don’t waste our remaining days. That’s all I’m saying. Beyond the time we spend in my quarters, he trains the men and works with Sasha. He’s prone to making the best of any situation, and I think, deep down, he’s glad to be involved, even peripherally.
Zeeka teases me about our quiet nights on the way to the final briefing. “You’re looking happy. Vermilion, even.”
Mareq throats flush when they’re excited, as I recall. So I think he’s saying I have a satisfied glow…or something like that. I cast him a slantways look. “Please don’t.”
“I think it’s awesome.”
Mary, no. I can stand anything, today, but the sex-related speculation of my once-foster son who is also a sentient frog. Some days…By some miracle, Vel comes along to save me because Zeeka is still too awed by him to joke around in his presence. He thinks that Vel is the epitome of greatness…and well, he is.
The three of us walk to the hall, which is the only room in the base large enough for us to meet simultaneously. Even though our numbers will certainly increase, the body of the army will not be present here. They’ll be in the field, assaulting various soft, lightly guarded installations. The plan of attack has been diagrammed to a decimal point. Now we just have to execute.
Which will be tougher.
“I haven’t seen much of you lately.” Not since we made the nocturnal run to extract March and Sasha from the house.
“It seemed best to give you some space.”
That’s enough unlike Vel that I frown. “Why?”
“You and March have been apart. There will be growing pains as you remember how to be a unit again.”
“True enough. We’ve been fighting.”
Vel inclines his head. “I am aware. But Sasha is excellent company for an unfinished human.”
That makes me laugh. “Yeah, he’s better than he was last time. Are you and I all right, though?”
“Why would we not be?” Genuine puzzlement flexes his mandible.
Once more, I’ve made the mistake of imbuing Vel with human motivations. He’s not jealous of March or threatened, or anything that a human male might be, placed in his complicated relationship with me. But for him, it’s not difficult at all. He’s my friend…and he’s content to wait. He’s still mourning Adele; that will go on for turns, quietly and deeply.
I make up my mind not to worry about it again. There are enough real problems on the ground that I don’t need to invent them. Zeeka, Vel, and I take seats near the back of the room. A few minutes later, Loras enters, with Constance beside him. Likely she’s helped him organize this final presentation. He spends nearly an hour going over the plan, then he calls out the breakdown of personnel.
“Are we all clear on our assignments?” Loras asks.
My gaze roves the room, finding a few familiar faces, and then I nod. Others murmur their assent. We can’t start a war with our small force holed up inside a mountain. Some of us have to take the fight to the enemy.
Therefore, we’re splitting up. A small team—including Zhan, Constance, March, and Sasha—will remain at base, facilitating communication and ops. The rest of us will divide into cells comprised of ten soldiers. While it’s possible that one of us might break and betray the base-camp location, that won’t destroy the war effort because there will be so many of us in the field, and the rest won’t know where we are or what we’re planning.
Loras has been studying the most successful guerilla generals throughout the history of several species, and he’s memorized the tenets as though they were the phonetics of a new language. He speaks of nothing but strategy and quotes ancient figures as dinner conversation: The enemy advances, we retreat; the enemy camps, we harass; the enemy tires, we attack; the enemy retreats, we pursue.
