When I shut my eyes like Hit told me to, I can just about see the colors. Oh, they’re far away, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope, but I can see them. This can’t be a delusion.
I’ve never heard of anyone who could sense grimspace when they weren’t jacked into the ship, but I’m not imagining this. From the pure, vast silence comes the pulse of the beacons. I hear it as an echo of my own heartbeat. Since I don’t know where we’re going, I can’t attempt to find the right ones, but I sense the navigator in the cockpit doing so.
He seems sluggish to me, unsure of our course. This jumper lacks my elation, my passion, my certainty. I never doubt I’ve targeted the right beacon, never have trouble translating the star charts from straight space. There’s something wrong here. I’ve never watched anyone work before, though instructors sometimes do. If I had a control button, I’d hit the override.
I feel the way we alter course, making for a beacon. But he’s overshot the jump. I don’t understand how I know, but this isn’t the place to phase out. Their jumper’s a hack, not an artist; he can barely perceive the beacons at all, and his best guess is our worst nightmare.
The phase drive rumbles, preparing to take us back. I shake my head, struggle against my harness, shouting, “No, no, no!”
It’s pandemonium. Everyone speaks at once, either telling me to shut the fuck up or trying to reassure me.
Vel squeezes my hand. “It is nearly over, Sirantha.”
“No shit it’s almost over, we—”
“Sit tight,” the Syndicate pilot barks over the comm. “Do not remove safety gear. This is going to get rough.”
Keller depresses a button on the arm of his chair. “What’s the problem, Mat?”
“We’ve emerged in an asteroid field, sir, two days off target. And these little bastards are surrounded by pockets of highly combustible gas.”
Oh Mary. I knew it. Well, not about the asteroid field, not exactly, but I knew he’d gotten the jump wrong. I knew it was dangerous.
But how? How did I know?
“Why are you chatting with me then?” Keller demands. “Get us out of this mess and then update me.”
“Roger that.”
“I never realized how good you are.” Because of Dina’s quiet tone, it takes me a moment to register that as a compliment. “Hell of a backseat driver, but good. You get us there, time after time. Never anything like this.”
I shift in my chair. “That’s not true. When Vel was chasing us, I jumped us eight days out.”
“Not into the middle of an asteroid field,” she mutters.
With a nod, I concede the point. Until now, I never wondered how I avoid jumping back under dangerous conditions. I can’t explain that knowledge; it works like a sixth sense, and I guess I assumed every other jumper has it, too.
Apparently not.
The ship tilts this way and that, testing the strength of my harness. We sling hard left and then roll. My stomach lurches as we make a full loop.
“Mary,” Jael groans. “I hope I don’t puke before we die.”
“Relax.” Keller sounds irritated. “Mat’s good. He’ll get us out.”
A distant boom and a grinding sound belie his words.
“We’re hit,” the pilot announces. “And we have breach. Droids are sealing off the second deck.”
Damn. Good-bye, spa. Maybe I’d better kiss my ass good-bye while I’m at it.
“Not good enough.” Hit starts unbuckling her safety gear. “Tell him to give me the chair. I’m not dying today.” Another explosion rocks the ship. “Go on, keep waffling, there won’t be enough of this thing left to tell what it was.”
Keller hesitates only a second before getting on the comm. “Mat, I’m sending someone up. Don’t argue, just let her fly.”
The pilot sounds oddly, inappropriately chipper. “Your funeral.”
We stare at each other, taut-faced, as Hit sprints down the corridor toward the cockpit. I hope she flies as well as she fights.
“She’s that good?” Dina asks.
“Better.” Coming from someone who hates her as much as Keller seems to, that’s high praise. He sighs. “Jewel will have my ass for messing up the new ship.”
“Space the guy in the nav chair.” I blurt the words before I think better of them. “He screwed up so bad—” I trail off, realizing there’s no way I can know that.
Everyone swivels to look at me, the same question burning in their eyes.
“How can you be sure?” Keller asks.
“I’m not. Forget I said anything.” Why give people another reason to think I’m a crazy egomaniac?
They don’t look particularly convinced, but a shift in the way the ship handles distracts them. We’ve got Hit in the pilot seat now. The swoops feel faster, more graceful. Smaller explosions trail in our wake, but they don’t touch the ship.
Maybe we’ll get out of this after all.
Ten minutes later, she comes strolling down the hall from the cockpit, looking pleased with herself. “And that’s how it’s done. Your boys should be able to take it from here.” She smiles at Keller. “And if they can’t, I’d have them killed.”
The Syndicate boss watches as she helps Dina from her chair, and the two of them head off to quarters. Our girl’s moving better already, less drag in her leg, more free movement. Her EMP band must be doing some good.
I think Grubb speaks for all of us when he says, “Damn.”