Aftermath (20 page)

“Would you leave me for a time?” he asks quietly.

“How long?”

“The night should be sufficient. I will see you in the morning, Sirantha.”

On some level, I understand what he intends—a final, solitary good-bye, where the dust of her skin lingers. Vel can detect it on a level humans cannot. It must feel, to him, as if her death surrounds him even now. He said to me once,
My people can communicate with pheromones, so our olfactory sense is more refined.

“Will it bother you if I spend the night upstairs?” I want to stay nearby in case he needs me; I don’t trust his composure. An outward show of grief would reassure me, but that’s not his way.

“Of course not.”

I pass the night in the flat where I once spent six glorious weeks, the only path I’ve ever chosen for myself. Until now. So it’s only right that the circle carried me back to her, even if I grieve in the unchanging light, gazing out over the city that never seems to sleep. Here Gehenna offers vice- never-ending.

I stand and remember Adele.

Now with some turns distance from that statement and the benefit of greater heartbreak than I thought I could ever bear, I acknowledge the rightness of those words until Vel comes to tell me it is time to go.

The service is lovely. All the girls from Hidden Rue
attend, and Domina closes the club in honor of the occasion. Afterward, we drink together, raising endless glasses to Adele, and I wonder if they know that my silent Ithtorian companion was her lover. None of them gives any sign, and since pain radiates from Vel’s quiet space, I don’t invite them in.

But I wish they did realize he has the right to mourn her as a partner.

Before long, they’re all sloppy-drunk, but the nanites won’t let me overindulge. As I’ve known for sometime, I’m not human. Not anymore. I’m something else, something different, and I hate it, but life has pushed me to this point. Oh, I don’t disavow my complicity in the process. I made the choices every step of the way because the consequences would have been worse if I hadn’t. But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.

“Are we done here?” Vel asks, watching the others tell anecdotes about Adele. “Have we been respectful?”

“I think we can go.”

As if in answer to my thoughts, my comm sounds. “I have to take this,” I say to the group, and I push away from the table and head outside to the bustling pedestrian walk. I smell distant airs from the market, sweet and savory, copper kiln smells and the spicy scent of kosh. A woman sits on a bench across the way, wearing a smoker’s dreamy-eyed smile.

“Jax?” It’s Dr. Carvati. “I have your Mareq hatchling ready for transport, along with the synthesized protein you requested.”

“Thanks. I’m on my way.”

Popping my head back in, I signal Vel that we’re heading out. He does not take his leave of anyone gathered, and they’re all too numb to notice. Probably best this way. Domina will wrap up Adele’s business affairs; she only asked that I stand by Vel—and I would’ve done that anyway.

A hover cab takes us to the clinic. This time, the reception-bot sends us straight back, but not to Carvati’s office. Instead, we hang a right and head to the in-house labs. Though I know what’s coming, I’m not emotionally prepared for my first glimpse of Baby-Z mark two. He looks exactly the same with his webbed toes and translucent skin, so tiny and fragile. I see the first clinging to March’s chest, clinging to life with such tenacity, even though we had no fragging idea how to care for him. In the end, I killed him, and with this hatching, I must try to make amends.

I greet Carvati with a handshake and a nod of thanks. “Your team did great work, but I suspect I shouldn’t let him imprint on me until I’ve had the procedure.”

The doctor agrees. “It should only take an hour or so. I can bump you up if you promise not to tell my waiting list.”

I smile. “Deal. I’d also like you to upgrade the processing option on my linguistic chip if you can.”

“Not a problem.”

Carvati doesn’t put me under completely. Drugs send me to a halfway place, where it’s warm and hazy, streams of light that likely come from his equipment. A local anesthetic numbs the area, so I don’t feel any of the pain, only pressure as he works. Eventually, the lights flow into darkness, and when I awaken, I hear:

“Are you with me, Ms. Jax?”

“Yeah.”

Carvati goes on, “You may notice some residual soreness and you’ll need to apply Nu-Skin to the incision twice daily until it heals.”

“I understand.”

“The vocalizer works on neural command. You tell it to switch languages, then speak. Now try to say something in Ithtorian for me.”

I glance around for Vel and find him within arm’s reach. His posture still radiates deep mourning, but he remains steadfast as ever. Honest to Mary, I don’t know how Adele found the strength to let him go. When my fingers flex, he covers my hand with one claw.

Ithtorian,
I think.
This gizmo doesn’t have an on-off switch, so . . . Speak Ithtorian,
I tell the vocalizer. And then I say, “Thank you for being here.”

But it comes out in clicks, chitters, and whistles. Vel’s mandible flares in instinctive response; I can only imagine how strange it is for him, hearing me speak his native tongue. Well, with technical assistance, but still.

Also in Ithtorian, he replies, “It is my pleasure.”

“By my reckoning,” Carvati says, “the operation was a success. Another hour in recovery, and you should be ready to go.”

The residual soreness he mentioned before tingles in my throat, creeping about the numb edges. “Will I be able to jump today?”

“Give it eight hours,” the doctor advises me.

So a night’s sleep, then, basically. Medi-bots move me into the recovery room, and I doze through my waiting period. Vel wakes me when I can leave with a touch on the shoulder. Nodding, I slide off the bed and get dressed. After what we shared on Ithiss-Tor, there is no reason for modesty between us, and the human body offers him nothing in the way of visual interest or titillation.

From there, we head for the labs again, where they’re readying Baby-Z for transport. This version is feisty, too, legs kicking as they lift him out of his incubator. Remembering how it’s done, I open my shirt, slick my chest with the synthesized protein gel, and take the hatchling, who unerringly hones in on my heartbeat. He attaches just below the protein slick on my sternum, and his tiny tongue licks out to explore the taste. I sense the precise moment when he decides I’ll do and snuggles in, reassured by my warmth, my heartbeat, and the fact that I can feed him.

I’ll do better this time,
I vow silently.
I will protect you.

Tears sting in my eyes, but I don’t let them spill over. Vel watches me with grave concern, but his silence offers no clue as to his thoughts. With equal reticence, I wish Dr. Carvati well, and add, “Don’t forget to ping me when your team finds something for the La’heng.”

He nods. “You realize it will take turns.”

“I know. But it’s worth doing.”

“Agreed. And your credits make it possible.”

Outside the clinic, on the platform, waiting for the hover cab to take us back to the spaceport, Vel says, “There have been two more requests for settlements, Sirantha.”

Not unexpected, after I agreed on the first. “Pay them both.”

“I have an offer for Dobrinya, but I believe you can do better.”

“Then decline. Accept whatever you think is fair.” I don’t know enough about this shit to manage my mother’s fortune, and really, Vel is just the trustee, until the bereaved families take it, bit by bit.

“Very well.”

Every meter this aircar flies takes me closer to the end of my obligations. As yet, I have two quests to complete, and I don’t kid myself—they’ll each require a lot of time and effort, but my conscience won’t let me rest until I keep my promises, both to myself and to Loras. Only then can I live the life I’ve always dreamed of, devoid of duty or obligation. Just me, my crew, and the silent stars, free to leap anytime I want and follow the beacons anywhere at all. That is my paradise, and a dream I must defer. For now. Where March fits into this future, I can’t say. He made his choice when he went after his nephew.

Though I couldn’t have admitted it, a kernel of bitterness lodges in my heart. It’s always him leaving me, isn’t it? First, it was Keri, and Lachion. Now it’s for the nephew who needs him. His reasons are sound, and he’s a good man who loves me, but I just don’t know if he’s the one with whom I can spend my life. I won’t change my dreams to fit his needs, nor do I think he should do so for me. If we can’t find a median that makes us both happy, then—

Well. Until I hear from him, it will keep. He left. And even in his good-bye letter, he offered his comm code, not an invitation. I’ve been long enough dirtside. I need to travel. Joining his quest on Nicuan would be just as bad as my time on New Terra, training endless waves of jumpers.

I sleep on the ship. As Vel warned, the quarters on the
Big Bad Sue
are miniscule, but Baby-Z and I don’t need much room. I lie on my back, feeling his tiny movements under my shirt. This time, I’m not full of horrified amusement as I was when the hatchling imprinted on March.

After the span Carvati prescribed, I head to the cockpit, where Hit is already waiting. She grins at the tiny lizard- baby lump on my chest, and I brace myself.

“You and Vel, huh? I’d have thought it would be more insect than reptile, but love works in mysterious ways. But you gotta tell me, how—”

“Okay, seriously.”

I just lost Adele, not that she knows, and I’m feeling oddly sensitive about any mockery directed at Vel, particularly in that way. No, looking at him doesn’t get me hot because he’s so far beyond my type as to be absurd—and yet . . . I love him. I do. It’s a thing beyond explaining, beyond sex, and beyond all customary definitions. Not the way I love March, but I don’t love March the same as I love Vel, either. The human heart defies such boundaries sometimes. It just does what it’s meant to do, and gives love where it receives it. Sometimes it can be blind in the best of ways.

Hit stops smiling when she sees my expression. Nobody ever said she wasn’t sensitive . . . for a killer. “Marakeq, then?”

“Get us above the dome and out of the atmosphere, please. I’ll take it from there.”

Hit handles the departure with the docking authority and
receives our clearance to depart. Smoothly, she powers up the ship, and the
Sue
responds with a little hum. That smoothness is Dina’s handiwork. From the exterior, you’d never guess how well this ship runs—in that, she’s like the
Folly
, the first ship I flew on with her.

And March.

But I’m not thinking about him.

That way, this ache I feel won’t get worse. I won’t wonder whether he’s safe or if Nicuan is driving him nuts. At this point, I have to trust he knows what he’s doing, and he won’t make any terrible decisions on world, but the truth of the matter is, he’d do anything for Svetlana’s son, no matter the cost to himself. So I put him from my mind; he’s beyond my reach for now. Choices were made; paths diverged, and only Mary knows if they’ll ever intersect again. I hope so. I’m not ready to say good-bye to him, not with Vel’s story about Adele so fresh in my mind.

But he chose his course, as I have. I have no business on Nicuan. Maybe it’s cold, but I cherish no attachment to his sister’s child. I would never ask him to pick between his family and me, but he must realize I’m not the settling- down type. Ever since I heard about the kid, I’ve had a bitter, stark feeling, and it’s not getting better. During the war, it didn’t matter as much. None of us could do as we wished.

It matters now.

Gas streaks the world red behind us, blood-tears to mark the loss of a beloved soul. The rest of Gehenna burns orange inside the dome, reflections cast in glastique that protects the city from the killing air. There was a breach, once, in the early days; I saw pictures in school of the bodies, asphyxiated where they fell. That was before they installed all the locks and seals. Even inside the dome, the idea of absolute safety is more illusion than reality. Death hovers just outside the glimmering barrier, swirling at the edges.