Killbox

Page 33

They’re standing a little too close, peering at the same test results. Long hours, two people with a great deal in common—well, it’s not an ideal situation for a woman who lacks the background to hold her own in the lab. Now she’s been banished to comm instead of working alongside him. Wonder if he has any idea how much it bothers her.
“This is really brilliant,” Doc says. “Groundbreaking. I’ve never seen work like this. You’ve advanced the scientific community by twenty turns. Dina will be thrilled. I think we can use this to mount her coupling.”
“It was easier when I had the full resources of Farwan behind me. The discoveries came faster.”
“But at what cost?” Doc asks gently.
She lowers her head. “I know. Have you taken a look at my hypothesis regarding improvement of the phase drive?”
I perk up. I didn’t know they were still working on that; I thought they had given it over to Dina. They have so many different projects going, it astonishes me. Maybe that’s the reason they spend so much time together, sheer volume and dedication.
“Though it’s outside my field of expertise—and I wish Velith were here to evaluate your premise—I think it’s feasible.”
They’re not going to explain, so I clear my throat delicately. “What is?”
“Jax!” Doc glances at me, smiling in welcome. “Evelyn theorizes that if we design an appropriate biological conduit, nanites could be adapted to work within the ship.”
They were talking about the phase drive . . .
It doesn’t take long for me to make the leap. “You’d use the nanites to monitor fuel efficiency or something? Can they work in a mechanical host?”
“There would need to be a biological component as well. It is all highly theoretical.” Evelyn doesn’t look thrilled that he’s confided this much to me.
“Because you don’t have a viable conduit.”
Like, say, me.
“Among other challenges,” she says. “Have a seat over there.”
I comply, letting them gather their gadgets. They’ve promised nothing invasive this time. Watching them work, I see the bond even more: They’ve begun to anticipate each other’s needs; words become unnecessary when a look suffices. I don’t think they share a sexual relationship, but if I learned anything as a jumper, proximity can spark an attraction.
Poor Rose. She might’ve been his rock on Lachion, but they’re a long way from home now. Maybe she should’ve stayed on the station. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.
“Now, just hold still.” Evelyn leans down. “This won’t hurt a bit.”
It doesn’t.
Once they have some readings, they act as if I’m not even here.
Doc indicates something on the display. “Oh, that’s interesting. Were you expecting the nanites to reconfigure the regulator for greater efficiency?”
“I thought they might,” Evelyn answers. “They’re like physiological maintenance, making sure every aspect of Jax’s body is running at peak efficiency. Now that we’ve installed other tech, they include that as part of the biological host.”
“Fascinating,” Doc breathes.
“Are we good?” I cut in.
Evelyn nods. “Yes, we have everything we need. You’re the picture of health.”
As I slide off the exam chair, it occurs to me to wonder: “How will this affect the aging process? If the nanites repair damage, does that include cellular decay?”
They exchange one of those speaking glances, then Evelyn says, “I am afraid I don’t know. The trials I ran on the wood weasel offer limited insight as to how it may affect you, as your genetic structures are rather dissimilar.”
Doc adds, “All your scans came up clear this time, which is good. Time will tell how the nanites impact your health in the long term. But that’s why we’ve insisted you come in on a regular basis.”
To make sure everything hasn’t blown up inside me. Got it. I manage a smile. “Good to know you’re on top of things.”
Evelyn did warn me at the outset it was an experimental technology. I agreed to the fix at the promise of a whole life in grimspace—something a jumper never enjoys naturally.
In leaving, I offer a wave.
Mostly because I feel sorry for her, I go looking for Rose. As it turns out, she’s on duty right now, so I head to comm, where she’s monitoring distress calls and going through bounced reports from other Armada ships. Most of the calls we receive bounce in from other sectors, and we cannot do anything about them because by the time we hear it, the victims are long since dead. It’s frustrating in the extreme and makes me miss Farwan’s fleet, even as I loathe their ethics. But even I can’t deny that they kept the peace.
She looks up from her work, mildly surprised to see me. “Something you need?”
I improvise. “Just came to see if you need a drink or anything.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cup of hot choclaste.”
“An excellent choice. I’ll be back.”
On my return, she has a smile for me. “Look, I know I was rough on you early on. You’re not . . . as I thought you were. Maybe we could start again?”
“Well, at that point, I probably was just like you thought,” I answer easily. “But I can always use a friend. Dina and I have been playing Charm in our off-hours. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”
“That sounds lovely.”
I’m just about to walk away when the comm beeps in the too-fast cadence that signals an incoming urgent transmission. Rose turns back to her station at once. I should go and leave her to it, but I’m nosy. It’ll be nice to know something before the commander.
The Dauntless comm officer appears. Signal quality is poor, so the image is scored with diagonal lines. Sound has been corrupted as well, but I can make out his words:
“Triumph, it is with great regret that I inform you that the Dark Tide has been lost. We came upon their emergency beacon three days past”—no telling how long ago that was—“and found the ship in pieces. We salvaged enough to be sure it was, in fact, ours. There were no survivors. According to our tests, scoring on the metal indicates it was not a Morgut vessel. Their lasers leave a different burn pattern. I convey these tidings, knowing you will wish to relay the news to the bereaved families yourself.”
I sink down on an empty chair. Comm is empty but for Rose and me. We’re the first to hear this bleak news. Tears well in her eyes as it sinks in. People we trained with, people we ate with—they’re gone. Finnegan, with his roguish grin and thunderous laugh: He’s fallen quiet forevermore. War has a different meaning for me now.
“Shall I notify the commander?” she asks eventually.
“Yes. He needs to know.”
.CLASSIFIED-TRANSMISSION.
.SUCCESSFUL EXECUTION.
.FROM-EDUN_LEVITER.
.TO-SUNI_TARN.
. ENCRYPT-DESTR UCT-ENABLED.
At this point, our business is sufficiently intertwined that I take no offense at your remarks. Indeed, you are compensating me for my efforts at such a level that I feel compelled to listen and consider, even if you wish me to direct my intellect toward self-analysis. Regardless, I am unsure whether you want a confirmation of your speculations, however inaccurate they may be, or the truth. Since despite your political bent, you seem inclined to the latter, that is what I shall offer, once and once only. I trust it will sate your curiosity.
My reputation was born in equal measures of terror, brutality, and threat of same. Let there be no misunderstandings: If I am employed to scorch a world, I shall do so. If I am employed to strike terror in the hearts of a native populace and make them worship their brethren from the stars as gods and offer great gifts, then I do that also. You have not hired a gentle, misunderstood soul, who thrives on information alone. I do whatever is required of me.
Thus, two days past, I executed Hydra. There were no survivors. In this strike, the Syndicate lost four hundred soldiers. The damage to property was considerable; we devastated the entire complex. Not a structure was standing by the time our ships left the atmosphere. For this operation, I used a mercenary company that cannot be directly linked to us, but I planted certain suspicions with Syndicate personnel. Soon they will be persuaded of Conglomerate culpability, but they will never be able to prove it, leaving them unable to spin it on the bounce. Unfortunately, they have redoubled their attacks on Armada ships. Such casualties are unavoidable. I recommend you send commendations to the families of all crew who served on the Dark Tide.
Of Ramona Jax, there was no sign. Unfortunately, she has since been sighted on New Terra engaged in high-profile pastimes. She is the new face of the Syndicate, and she is gaining in popularity. You will not win against them until she is removed from the equation. I am working on a way to accomplish this.
Finally, I have attached some possible tariffs. Of them all, I favor the luxury taxes on high-end food items, chem, and alcohol. It puts the burden of support on those who can best afford it. You can offer other compensations to assuage concerns, also detailed in the subsequent file.
.ATTACHMENT-TARIFFS-FOLLOWS.
.END-TRANSMISSION.
. COPY-ATTACHMENT.
.FILES-DOWNLOADED.
. ACTIVATE-WORM: Y/N?
.Y.
.TRANSMISSION-DESTROYED.
CHAPTER 36
I’m not there when March receives the news, so I can’t comfort him when he feels personally responsible for what happened to his volunteers. There’s no place for me at his side, except as LC. It’s salt in the wound when people snap to attention as I pass by and call out my rank, as if it’s somehow altered who I am inside.
“LC on deck!”
Jaw clenched, I return the salutes, and tell them, “Back to work.”
I know the jargon, but I can’t bring myself to use it. If I start talking like a real LC and barking orders, I’ll lose something precious. That might not make a whole lot of sense outwardly, but I just know I can’t give myself up to this, or maybe I’ll wind up like March, after Lachion. Maybe it didn’t happen because he was Psi; maybe it’s the natural, inevitable result of too much killing.
Tonight, we hold a memorial service for them. Everyone assembles in the mess hall, and the commander wears his dress uniform, dark blue with a double row of silver buttons and extra silver thread. March has cut his hair; it is shorn with military precision. He looks untouchable now. In a gravelly bass voice, he reads off the list of our beloved dead. All around me, I see people with too-bright eyes, but straightening their shoulders to show they’re not broken.
Afterward, the mood on ship is taut and dangerous. The crew wants more death to answer for our loss. We’re all running on too little sleep and too much sorrow these days, and it’s only going to get worse. I have that feeling in the pit of my belly.
That’s borne out on our next call. I’m sitting in the nav chair, taking my turn on watch while the ship speeds along on autopilot, when Rose patches the message through.
“Armada ship Triumph, this is the mining colony from the asteroid Dobrinya.” Ah, word’s gotten around. They’re asking for us by name now. They know we work this sector. “We have three Morgut ships circling our perimeter. Right now, they’re working to disarm our minefield, and afterward, they’ll go for our SDIs. We won’t last long if they get through. Can you help us?” The man’s naked terror strikes a chord in me; I remember how terrible the Morgut can be.