Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [2]
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For Liam
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As ever, I start with my agent, Laura Bradford. We’re both busier than we used to be, but that means we can have a meaningful conversation in a few words. She still handles all my concerns with her customary aplomb, ever a source of reassurance, good sense, and valuable advice.
Next, I salute Anne Sowards, who saw Jax’s potential . . . and who usually doesn’t like first-person, present tense. I’m glad you made an exception. Our heroine’s come a long way with your hand on the rudder, so thank you for your expertise. There’s only one book left, and I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished. Thank you. And it’s about time Jax got her happy ending, isn’t it?
Thanks to my copy editors, the Schwagers. In fact, much appreciation to the whole Penguin team. Your work makes mine possible.
I must also express admiration and awe for the beautiful art that graces my covers. Scott Fischer doesn’t even need a whisper from me because he sees Jax’s world with an artist’s eyes, and he’s depicted her beautifully from the very beginning.
My friends are ever patient and supportive. Big thanks go to Bree Bridges, Donna Herren, Lauren Dane, Larissa Ione, Jaye Wells, Louisa Edwards, and Candace Havens. This magical crew keeps me positive, motivated, and ready to tackle my goals, day after day. They do this through their own tireless work ethic and because they are consummate professionals who lead by example. I’m so lucky to have friends like them.
I need to give a special shout-out to Suzanne McLeod. I sent Aftermath to her, and her words of encouragement made me feel like a million bucks, but more than that? At the eleventh hour, as I was peering at my manuscript, wondering what else it needed, she was kind enough to make some notes, and they were brilliant. Everything she said, I was like, Yes, why didn’t I see that?! So if you love the book more than you expected to, the credit belongs to Suzanne.
Major thanks to my family. Andres, Alek, and Andrea are wonderful. They know how important my writing is to me, and they are patient and flexible with my schedule. You all enrich my life and make it possible for me to dream as big as I do.
Finally, I send profound appreciation to my readers. You’re the reason this works. I cherish each e-mail, so please send them to ann.aguirre@gmail.com. I value you all and thank you for buying my books.
CHAPTER 1
Dying isn’t like living; it requires no effort at all.
I just have to sit quiet and let it happen. But I can’t. Like a fish with a barbed hook caught in its mouth, I twist and pull, desperately fighting my way back to the anguished meat I left in the cockpit with Hit. She has no way home without me, and if I don’t succeed in this, the consequences will be far worse than two lost females. Despite the siren call of grimspace and the scintillant colors, I must live; it’s never mattered so much before.
I have to get back. I have to warn them, or every ship that tries to jump will never come out again.
Since the Conglomerate doesn’t have an armada to match the size of the Morgut fleet, I had to reprogram the beacons; it was the only way to slow them down. Otherwise, so many lives might have been lost. But no impulsive act, however well intended, comes without consequence. I know that better than most.
As I draw closer, the pain ramps up. At least I have the assurance that the nanites will repair the damage, so whatever I’ve done to myself, I won’t wind up trapped in my own body. If March were here, he’d help anchor me, but Hit lacks his Psi ability, which means I’m on my own. Instead of the door in the far horizon—that place of passing through—I focus on my body. Past the silent screaming, I can hear my heartbeat, faint and sluggish, right now no more than a reflexive physical response. Yet it might be enough.
With each thud, I