Suddenly glum, I rest my chin against March’s back. If I succeed, they’ll kill my mother. If I fail, I’ll be jobless, penniless, and the laughingstock of the tier worlds, assuming the Bugs don’t execute me for some breach of etiquette.
And that doesn’t begin to factor in the danger we’ll be in, trying to get to Ithiss-Tor. I didn’t realize how much the clockwork Corp patrols factored into keeping the star lanes safe. I hope pirates and raiders will be too busy jacking cargo vessels to mess with a small cutter like ours.
A surge of heat beneath me catches my attention, but it’s the high-pitched whine coming from the Skimmer that alarms me. I hear March mutter, “Shit,” as he lets go of the controls and rolls hard left. Since I’m holding on to him, I fall as he does.
We hit the ground and tumble, careening into packed snow and stacked garbage cans. My hip feels like it has ground glass embedded in it. The Skimmer continues in its flight, but it slows without a hand on the throttle. Midair, it shudders and then blows into shards, raining fire and ash down on us.
I cover my head as the larger pieces plummet to earth. The icy air smells of burning metal. Ah, shit. Ira’s gonna be pissed. Hope he doesn’t get in trouble, poor bastard has enough problems. Then again, if being an ambassador means anything, I should have the power to promote him out of it.
“You all right?” If I had a credit for every time March has asked me that question, I wouldn’t be mourning my missing money.
“I’ll live.” I can’t restrain a whimper as he pulls me to my feet. “What are the chances this was a routine malfunction?”
Mouth compressed to a white line, he shakes his head. “Slim to none.”
I test my left hip, the one that took the impact, by taking a step, and fire streaks up my thigh. To cover this, I try to sum up our situation, ticking off the points on my gloved fingertips. “So one faction—the Conglomerate—wants me to succeed on Ithiss-Tor because they want to strengthen their position as the galactic governing body. Another faction—the Syndicate—wants me to fail because periods rife with chaos are good for the smuggler’s bottom line. And an unknown faction doesn’t want me to get there at all.”
March nods his agreement. “This was meant as a preventive measure. I’m not sure if they thought they’d end you like this or just put the fear of Mary in you.”
I snort. “That’d take more than a bunged-up Skimmer, at this point.”
“They don’t know you like I do.” With careful fingertips, he traces a feathery touch over my brows, and I feel that lovely little spark. Now’s not the time, though. “Can you walk?”
I rake a quick look around the alley. “Do I have a choice? This looks like Wickville, where auto-cab stands are few and far between.”
His face looks sharp and harsh within the shadowed frame of his black hood, but his eyes soften his whole mien. March swings me up into his arms. “You always have a choice, as long as I’m around. If you’d rather, we’ll hop a ship to Maha City, claim some land according to the New Homestead Act, and plant rutabagas or something. Is that what you want, Jax?”
For a moment, just a moment, I consider it. Imagine being planet-bound, no more grimspace, no more wildfire, no more notoriety. Just a quiet life easing into a quiet death. I could almost, almost manage it, with March by my side.
Then I shake my head, smiling. “I don’t think I’m what Chancellor Jackson had in mind when he set out to attract honest, hardworking citizens to New Terra. Besides . . . I didn’t become a jumper to die old and gray.”
Something flashes in his dark eyes, something stark and raw. His answering smile looks like it hurts in ways I can’t conceive. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
* * *
CHAPTER 6
As he carries me through the Wickville warren, l re flect on what it means for March to love me.
The man’s known nothing but loss his whole life. With me he can expect more of the same. I’m a jumper to the core, complete with all the reckless, thrill-seeking urges. Though I’ve changed since I first met him, and I’d like to believe for the better, I’m never going to be a safe bet.
I’m not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. I’ve seen a chunk of the universe, true, but there’s still so much more to see. I doubt I’ll ever cure this wanderlust, and I’m content with dedicating my life to failing to sate it.
Then again, maybe if I checked with him, he’d say he would rather have two weeks with me than twenty safe years with someone else. After all, that’s what I’d say if he asked me. Kai taught me nothing comes with a guarantee.
The sky darkens overhead, heavy with impending snow, and on the far horizon, the setting sun smears the white plain with a diffuse glow. Each breath stings the inside of my nostrils, puffs out like smoke. It’s becoming clear we are unequivocally lost, and we’re starting to draw attention. With March carrying me, we look vulnerable. That brings out the predatory instincts in people.
Buildings low-slung and close together separate Wickville from Ankaraj proper. There, everything shines with chrome and glastique, and even the gutters stay clean. Here, you can find whores, chem, contraband, and wicked music.
During my academy days, I spent as much time as I could out here, away from rules and regulations. I even had a boyfriend, an insanely gifted sax player named Sebastian, who called me a stroppy little bitch. We fought and fucked and fought some more. In retrospect, it’s a wonder I made it to graduation day.