Endgame (11 page)

They’ll find us.

I’m truly worried about March and Sasha. Now I understand how he felt about going into battle with me. Vel and I, we’ve fought together for turns. I trust he can handle his business. I know March can, too, but not with his kid in tow. He’ll always protect him first, maybe sacrifice himself if push comes to shove.

This
sucks
.

Clumsy on the controls, I take out another one while Vel spins us away from the remaining four. More shots come in hard, and only a sharp altitude drop gets us away from the barrage. I’m tired, terrified, and not on top of my game.

Don’t choke, Jax. Not now.

“I can help,” Sasha says. “This will be easy. They’re not big.”

My hands are shaking. “Go for it, kid.”

Leaning forward, he narrows his eyes on the drones, their lights showing him how to strike. Then he slams all four of them together; they explode like fireworks, bits of metal cascading down. He doesn’t even have to gesture. The shuttle doesn’t rock. That’s some fragging impressive control. No wonder he took the blue ribbon.

“Way to go,” I say, sitting back from the weapons console. Cold sweat trickles down my spine; that was closer than it should’ve been. “You saved us, Sasha.”

March is ominously silent.

“So are we part of the resistance now, like when I fight
the evil overlords in Rebel Alliance XVI?” Sasha has chattered all the way to base. “This is like the mission where—”

“Can you sit in the cockpit and run a diagnostic for me?” Vel cuts in. “I must be sure the shuttle sustained no lasting damage.”

“Sure. I mean, I can, can’t I?” The kid glances at March for permission.

“Find me after you’re done,” he says tersely.

I offer Vel a nod of thanks. Sasha needs to be distracted while his uncle tears me a new asshole. I can tell he’s furious; I’m just not sure why. At the house, he didn’t seem this upset with me. He doesn’t speak as he follows me from the hangar. Behind us, the doors have sealed, hiding our energy emissions once again. The next few hours will be crucial as it’ll reveal whether Imperial troops detected our movements.

After a little thought, I lead the way to my quarters. Nobody else needs to hear this, and he requires privacy to yell at me. Sure, he could do it in my head, but it doesn’t have the same impact for a thunderous scold. Once we reach my room, I
step in and seal the door behind us. I don’t take a defensive posture, just brace and wait.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demands.

“Which time?”

“When you let my kid take on the enemy!”

“I thought it was better than dying. I was choking on the guns.” I don’t explain why; it seems to me if he was in my head, he knows. I was too worried about their safety. For once, I couldn’t compartmentalize.

“Then you should’ve given
me
the controls.”

“That would’ve taken too long. By the time we swapped seats, the shuttle would’ve taken a hit to put us on the ground, and we’d have been stranded. How is that better?”

“You’re not his mother, Jax, and you don’t get to involve my son in war games.”

“That’s why you’re mad?” I ask in reflexive surprise.

“What did you think?”

“Because you’re stuck here with the shit hitting the fan.”

He lifted his shoulders in a familiar shrug, dismissing that suggestion. “That was all Sasha. You had nothing to do with it…and I knew you were on a tight schedule. I’m worried about being stranded during wartime, but not angry.”

“I’m sorry I used Sasha without your permission,” I say. “But you could’ve said no.”

“Then he’d think I didn’t trust him to control his TK. He’s made such strides that I don’t want to undermine his confidence. He’s just about a normal kid these days, and I…”

“You don’t want to see him lose that.” I get it now.

A bunker full of angry soldiers determined to rid their homeworld of the conquering force doesn’t lend itself to normal childhood experiences. I sink down on the bed, full of remorse over…so many things. Mostly, what I feel bad about, though, is that I
don’t
feel worse about March’s being here with me. Regret should wrack me from head to toe, but the truth is, a kernel of happiness burns inside me. I want him, even if it’s not by choice. That’s how self-centered I am.

He puffs out a sigh and rakes a hand through his shaggy hair. “Are you going to make me fight another war for you, Jax?”

“I’d never force you to do anything,” I say softly.

“That’s true. That would devalue all the lessons you learned from St. Kai.” Even after all this time, he sounds bitter…and jealous of the love I lost.

That makes me smile…because he’s so imperfect and human and occasionally irrational. I push to my feet and cross to him, wrapping my arms about his waist. For a few seconds, he resists, then his arms come around me. He rests his chin atop my head.

“What do you want to do?” I ask.

“What I want and what can happen are two different things.”

“You’d hop the next ship home,” I guess.

“Obviously. Sasha needs to finish school.”

“You can train him, though, right? It might not be as structured as the Psi Corp program, but—” I break off as a thought occurs to me. “Constance has training experience from Emry. I bet we could modify her programming for classroom-style teaching, and you can handle the Psi stuff.”

March nods. “I’m familiar with the exercises. It’s doable but not ideal.”

Sadly, that describes most of my life. I could offer platitudes like
Things happen for a reason
or
It’ll all work out for the best
, but March is relaxing in my arms. I don’t want to piss him off again. It’s a bit underhanded that I’m using proximity to defuse his anger, but what the hell, I’ll bring whatever weapons I have to bear.

“That’ll keep you busy,” I say.

“You think I can be here and not get involved?” He laughs softly. “I’m still a soldier. It’ll drive me nuts inside a week to know you’re running missions without me.”

“Would it have bothered you on Nicuan?”

“To some degree, but when you’re so far away, it’s less itchy.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again.

I know he didn’t want this for Sasha. It’s no way to raise a kid.

“Hey,” he says. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Except using your kid as a weapon.”

“Don’t remind me.” He frowns. “It’s a big game to him. I should’ve predicted how Sasha would react to all the hoorah
and heroism. He loves strategy sims, playing hero. This turned out to be too much temptation. But I’m not sure he understands the stakes. In games, if things go bad, his avatar respawns.”

“Not so much on the battlefield.”

“Exactly. I don’t want him to end up like me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“To be me? I’m pretty fragged up, Jax. We live on my savings. I don’t work because the only thing I know how to do, I
can’t
do while I’m all Sasha has.”

I’d never thought about how he might feel, living on Nicuan. I assumed he loved the kid so much that he didn’t think of anything else. But it must be a constant reminder of his old life. It must be hard, at times. I hate thinking of him feeling alone and useless, nothing to distract him from missing me. He’s not sorry for his commitment to Sasha, but I wonder if he ever feels trapped.

Yes.
He doesn’t say it aloud because that feels like betrayal of the boy he loves so much.
I can’t do what I want. I have to think about what’s best for somebody else.

It’s not forever,
I assure him.
Kids grow up. That’s kind of what they do.

Sometimes, in the past few turns, that knowledge kept me going.

I add aloud, “You’re not alone now. I can teach Sasha stuff. So can Vel, Constance, Loras, and Zeeka. It’s not all on you anymore.”

He rubs his cheek against my hair. “I shouldn’t be so relieved to turn my kid over to three aliens and an AI, should I?”

“You need a break. It’s hard to be everything to somebody, all the time.”

“How would you know?” It’s not meant to be a cruel question, but it lances straight through me all the same.

I step back then. “Are you saying I can’t be counted on?”

“As long as it suits you.”

“I thought you understood why I couldn’t stay.” Hurt lashes me.

His smile is beautiful and bittersweet. “I understood why you chose not to.”

And he’s right; it’s an accurate distinction. I own this. But his comment makes it seem as if he’s been nursing a grudge. This wasn’t how I wanted to spend our unexpected additional time together; I will be shipping out soon on my first mission.

He goes on, “But I accept it. I never expected you to be different.”

I fold my arms. “To be a martyr, you mean? Like you?”

His shoulders stiffen. “Jax—”

“Kids are adaptable. You stayed on Nicuan because you think you failed your sister. So you were determined you’d give Sasha anything he wanted, even if it made you unhappy. In fact, that was better, because then you could spend the time in penance. I’m not saying you don’t love the kid, but you could’ve raised him in a place that didn’t make you miserable.”

“Like on a ship with you,” he says roughly.

“Yes. Like that.”

“It would’ve been too dangerous, Jax. Out in deep space, one tantrum from Sasha, and we’re all dead in vacuum.”

“So we use force fields. We teach him the dangers. It could’ve been viable…you just didn’t try.”

“I’d forgotten this about you.”

“What?”

“That you don’t hesitate to kick a guy in the nuts.”

Is that what I did?
I press on, ruthless. “I just want you to face the truth. It seems like you resent that I didn’t don sackcloth and stay, even if it made me miserable.”

“Maybe,” he snaps. “Is that so wrong? That I want you to love me that much?”

“I
do
love you,” I say. “But not more than myself.”

“You don’t love anyone more than yourself.” As the words slip out, he looks horrified.

I still. While I’ve feared I was so selfish, nobody ever said it out loud before. The accusation hurts more than I could’ve imagined, coming from March; it’s a surprise boot in the teeth. I exhale shakily. “I think you’d better go see how Sasha’s doing.”

“Jax—”

“Just go.”

The next day, I meet Loras in the detention area, as
requested. Through the one-way mirror, I can see the two men. The short centurion, whom Vel will impersonate, is digging at his skin, desperate for another run; he’s scratched deep, bloody runnels in his arms, until the dried flesh cakes under his nails. The other sits and rocks, his eyes glassy.

Loras clicks the sound on.

“Felt good. So good. Need it.” The first turns bloodshot eyes to his catatonic cellmate. “Want more.”

“The treatments are a little more addictive than we anticipated,” Loras says. “I don’t think he’s fit even for manual labor.”

“So it’s not viable for recruitment,” I say, swallowing my horror. “Did we get any useful information out of him?”

“A little. Mostly about the number of legates in the capital.”

“That’s something. What are you going to do with them?” As I ask the question, Zhan strides up.

He salutes Loras with two fingers, his bearing fierce and aggressive. “Reporting as ordered, sir.”

“Kill them,” Loras says.

Shock ripples through me. Somehow, I thought there
would be more fanfare. “Is Vel finished studying the short one’s face?”

“It’s a no-go,” Loras answers, as Zhan keys in the code and enters the cell.

I can’t say I was looking forward to the op, but it seemed our most likely way to gather information on the enemy. I don’t understand what’s changed. But before I gain clarity, Zhan executes both prisoners. It’s as neat as I’ve ever seen, and the pleasure in Zhan’s expression gives me a chill. So many centuries of enslavement—so many turns to hate and plot and dream of vengeance.

“What went wrong?”

“They were both declared dead,” he replies. “Leviter saw their names on a PSA broadcast. The funerals are tomorrow.”

“Oh, shit. So if Vel had turned up, days later, there would be questions.”

“The centurions would likely assume that he had been collaborating, possibly held by the enemy, and had given up secrets.”

“So they would’ve detained him. Possibly tortured him for information.”

Loras nods. “They certainly would’ve uncovered his masquerade, and it wouldn’t have taken long for them to link him to you, Tarn, and Leviter.”

We had a close call.

I offer, “Leviter and Tarn will serve us well in the capital. They maintain ties to Nicuan, albeit distant ones.”

“Are they willing to do some spying?” he asks.

“They’re looking forward to it. Down the line, maybe we can figure out an alternative method to plant Vel in Nicuan territory.”

Before he can reply, Zhan gets on the comm, ordering a cleanup crew. I turn away. These men would’ve shot us the night of the raid, but I’m already tired of killing. Too bad there’s so much more of it in store; La’heng will run red with blood before we’re through.

“Why did you want me here for the execution?” I ask at length.

“You’re my second. The other La’hengrin must see that you’ll follow my lead even when humans are put to death.”

Nicuan nobles act inhuman sometimes, but in physiology, we share genetic stock. So I understand his point. “They’re afraid when push comes to shove, I’ll choose my own kind?”

He dodges the question. “They’ll come to trust you, Jax.”

Zhan steps out of the cell in time to hear those words. He nods. “You didn’t protest. That will go a long way toward reassuring my comrades. It’s one thing for them to see you filing petitions. It’s another to kill for a people not your own.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

A team comes in a few moments to bag the bodies and haul them away. They’ll be incinerated down in the deepest part of the base, no trace left behind. I can’t help thinking of the tall centurion’s wife; right now, she’s grieving. She doesn’t realize that her husband was alive until just now. She’s not a centurion or a warrior…she’s just a woman who loved a man.