“We are at war,” I say quietly.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” March continues. “What is your cargo?”
The captain harrumphs. “That’s the devil of it, not gems or ore. We’re carrying food and medicine to an outpost on Anzu. They’re hard-hit. Word is, they’re dying.”
Anzu, a mixed-race colony in Sigma Psi—as I recall, there are humans, Rodeisians, and La’heng on world. The climate is somewhat extreme, but there are rich deposits available for mining. Like Lachion, it’s a frontier world with lots of opportunity coupled with severe risk. But it’s a newish settlement, not quite self-sufficient, and without regular deliveries, they will starve.
“All the more reason for us to get you there safely,” March tells him, every bit the commander. “Please don’t hesitate to comm if you need us further.”
“Those pirates were Syndicate,” I say aloud, once he’s broken the connection.
March eyes me. “How can you be sure?”
No, it’s not paranoia. I believe I’ve actually recovered from that tendency, more or less. At last, my head feels like my own again. Maybe I have Evelyn’s nanites to thank, or perhaps I can credit the panacea that heals all wounds: time. Regardless, I have a theory, and it’s a good one. The vessel we just blew up had distinctive markings on the hull. And I remember where I saw that last—on the yacht we stole before we decommissioned her for the Conglomerate fleet.
“Because it’s a clever scheme. Take the settlement to the brink of starvation, then offer protection for their shipments. Who makes a fortune?” It’s a theory, of course. I have no proof. But why else would the Syndicate hit a supply ship? Nothing else makes sense.
“That does sound like your mother,” Dina says from gunnery.
My mother—Ramona—runs a large arm of the Syndicate; they’re responsible for piracy, drugs, slavery, extortion, racketeering, black-market goods . . . you know, the usual. Not very maternal, but she wasn’t even when I was a kid.
“Your mother?” Argus cuts in. “Mary, I thought mine was bad because she threw a fit about me going off world.”
I mutter, “Long story. But it stands to reason.”
“If Constance were here, we could put her on researching at-risk outposts,” March says thoughtfully.
“And then find out where their supplies come from.” Dina follows the idea to its next point.
“Once we know that,” I conclude, “we can keep watch on those shipping routes.”
“I’ll do the research,” Argus says.
I glance at him in surprise. “You will?”
“There’s not a lot else for an apprentice jumper to do on board, you know. I wouldn’t mind feeling halfway useful. I’ll have a look at the news archives.”
March nods. “Get me the information as soon as you can. This is top priority.”
“Understood.” Argus heads out of the cockpit with a renewed sense of purpose, which seems to be my cue to depart as well.
If I saw even a flicker that hinted March is having trouble with the distance between us, it might be harder for me. But this man isn’t the one with whom I’ve shared so much. He’s cool and formal, completely focused on the mission. That makes it easy for me to think of him as my commander and just partition off the emotions for which I have no outlet. Thank Mary I have years of practice.
“Am I dismissed, sir?”
“You are. Good work today, LC.” He hesitates, then adds, “I called you up here in case we needed to give chase via grimspace. At first I wasn’t sure whether this was a Morgut vessel.”
“Aha. That explains it.” Afterward, I realize I haven’t asked him that question.
“I didn’t touch your mind,” he adds softly. “I won’t do that now. But your face is as easy to read as it ever was.”
If that’s the case, I need to get out of here right now, before he sees how much I miss him. Maybe I should have asked to be assigned elsewhere, gone with Hon and Loras. I know the reasons behind keeping me on the Triumph, but they don’t console me much.
“I’ll try to work on my poker face.” I etch a salute and escape into the corridor, feeling emotionally ravaged.
As I walk to my quarters, I reflect that Argus is a smart kid. Maybe I should offer him more training on guns. Based on his performance with the rail gun, he has a strong background, and ship lasers aren’t so much different from pistols when you come down to it. I make a mental note to ask Dina if she can tweak the simulator.
Right now, I desperately need to sleep. Though I’ve lost track of where we are in the cycle, I feel like I’ve been up for days. Maybe I have been. At this point, it’s all starting to run together. I miss Vel; I miss Constance. I miss Hit, Loras, and even Hon.
Today, we killed a shipful of people. I did it on orders, like a good soldier. They may have been corrupt and selfish, venal and mercenary; they may have been Syndicate thugs, but we killed them all. In my bunk, I feel very alone. Nothing could’ve prepared me for the reality, I think.
My door-bot alerts me as I’m getting ready for bed. “You have a visitor, Sirantha Jax. Allow entry?”
“Yes.”
Hope sparks through me as the door swishes open. Maybe it’s March. Maybe he sensed I could use a friend after that fight. I wasn’t born to this. It means everything that he came, despite his edict about fraternization.
Except he didn’t.
It’s Dina waiting on the other side, looking no better than I feel. Her tough exterior is no more the truth of her than mine is. It’s just what we show people we don’t trust. I’m moved that she feels free to come to me with hell in her eyes: devastation from killing so many people and a longing for her lover.
“I didn’t want to be alone tonight,” she says softly.