“She shouldn’t,” he says softly. “This wasn’t a military operation, and you’re not our commanding officer. And even if you were . . . well, all leaders know that conflict comes with a certain level of acceptable loss. You said it yourself.”
Yeah, but I didn’t mean it. That was just something I said to keep the others from panicking. Mary, I hate when my own words come back to bite me. I thought I’d have March out of this mess by now.
He goes on, “You’ve given this your best. Nobody expects you to do the impossible . . . save the day every time. Hell, you’ve already accomplished more here than anybody ever has. And you’ve already sacrificed so much . . . how much is enough? Do you have to give your life, too?”
Mary, his words make so much sense. It’s like hearing what my subconscious has been whispering for days; the selfish part of me nods in vehement agreement. When do I get a break? When do I get a rest? The only person who ever gave me a quiet place to call my own without asking anything in return lives in a tenement on Gehenna.
“Please, don’t.”
I hate him for saying what I’ve been thinking over the past few days of banging my head against a wall so high I can’t see the top of it. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to withstand the temptation to ease back into my old skin. The old Jax would love to go back to living for herself; she’s tired of sorrow and sacrifice. She says it’s been a damn long time since we lived for the thrill of it.
He leans toward me, taking my hands in his. “No, I have to speak my mind. Just from what I’ve seen during the short time I’ve been with you, people seem to think it’s fine to force you to do things you don’t want, over and over again. I’ve been there. I know how it is when people use you. They offer you a Hobson’s choice that’s no choice at all. It’s time to walk away, Jax.”
CHAPTER 44
Is he right? Maybe I’m just too stubborn to know when I’m licked. I don’t want to undo all the good I’ve done here for selfish reasons. I waver, thinking of how easy it’d be.
But . . . no. I can’t leave him. To this day, it haunts me that I considered leaving March on Hon’s Kingdom and that it took someone else to make me do the right thing. His injury made him a liability; I thought he’d slow me down and lessen my chance of survival. Back then, that was all that mattered to me.
Kai’s loss haunts me. And it haunts me that I couldn’t save Loras. I can still see his face as the door closed on him, trapping him on the wrong side. I’ll carry that until I die; I just don’t have the fortitude to bear any more weight on my soul.
“No.” I say it aloud for emphasis. “I’m in this until the end, and if you don’t like it, take one of the shuttles up, turn on the emergency beacon, and hope for the best.”
“Fine. Your funeral.” His hand goes to the knife in his side, covering where I’m putting pressure on the wound. “I’d say it’s mine, too, but I’ve always found it difficult to die.” Beneath the levity of his tone, I glimpse the stark solitude of a man who has always been alone and always will be.
Vel arrives before I can reply. He takes stock of the situation with a glance, then he checks out Jael’s injury. “Did you notify Dr. Solaith?”
“He’s on the way,” I confirm.
Though he has to come from the ship, Doc turns up before the security team, which makes a joke out of their emergency-response system. But maybe they give better service to citizens. They could hardly do worse.
Saul takes a look and regards him incredulously. “How aren’t you dead? Never mind, don’t tell me now. Let’s get you taken care of.”
The Doc I know and love doesn’t insist on answers before helping someone who’s in pain. That can wait. While he’s working on Jael, the Bug squadron finally deigns to put in an appearance.
There’s no question this corpse shouldn’t be on my floor; it signifies criminal trespass and my bedding is shredded where the knife went in, so that validates my claim of a murder attempt. At least we’re spared a situation where they try to make this my fault. I was in my bed, exactly where I ought to be. Still, I can’t help but notice that the security personnel don’t care much.
None of them ask any questions. They just remove the body and cleanse the stain on the ground. The team leader adds, “We will be checking all possible leads. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
Inconvenience . . . ? It’s all I can do not to go upside his head with another decorative pot. Vel restrains me with a claw on my shoulder. His body language says a confrontation would be pointless. I agree, but I’m spoiling for a fight. Every spark of jumper in me wants to make somebody sorry. I rein in that Jax with great effort, and, instead, offer an insincere wa of thanks.
Afterward, I take a look at how the patient is faring. While I look on, Doc finishes closing the top of the wound. “Ordinarily, I would never do it this way,” he says with a disapproving frown. “There’s too much internal damage just to seal it up and hope for the best, but Jael says he’ll be fine.”
“He will be,” I agree.
Maybe it’s callous, but I’m not that worried about him. After all, I’ve seen him heal worse. On Emry, I didn’t have any niceties like liquid skin, antibiotic preventives, or a sonic cleanser either.
“I didn’t want the blood all over the floor,” Jael says in a self-deprecating tone. “Gut wounds bleed like a son of a bitch. It was better to have a professional at hand.”
“Try to limit your movement,” Doc says. “And take it easy for the next couple of days.”
Jael mutters, “Unlikely. Jax is determined to stay, despite the danger.”
“Such attacks will escalate,” Vel predicts. “Until you are dead or . . . gone.”