Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [42]
CHAPTER 13
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
We’ve stepped into his office, the door closed behind us. He takes a seat at his large desk, and I sit opposite. It’s so funny to see him on the other side of authority, the director of this place. To me, he’ll always be my apprentice jumper; maybe this is similar to having children.
A long, frustrated breath escapes him. “I can’t teach it. I can navigate the new signals, but I can’t show anyone else like you showed me. I’ve just been buying time with bullshit exercises to ‘prepare their minds,’ hoping they’d cut you loose. But it’s been so long now that I think they suspect something’s wrong.”
Frag me. There might be some truth to the accusation that I held the whole galaxy hostage. If they’d executed me, it would’ve crippled grimspace travel for turns to come. But I can show them all how to read the way the beacons pulse now, just like I did Argus. It will be time-consuming, but it’s doable, and maybe along the way, I’ll come across a jumper who can teach it alongside me. Unfortunately, I know of no test to identify that capacity.
“All right,” I say, switching to work mode. “How many jumpers are here for training?”
“Over five hundred, but more arrive every day.”
“Then strictly speaking, from a facilities standpoint, how many jumpers can jack into a training chair with me at one time?”
“No more than five.”
I tap the comm. “Dina, are you still in range?”
“Dammit,” she replies. “I knew it was too good to be true. I’m not getting a vacation, am I?”
“I’d appreciate your help here. I need you to figure out a way to patch twenty training chairs into one nav chair, and all processed through the same console.”
“Like I did on the Triumph, times twenty?”
“Pretty much.”
“You don’t want much, do you?”
“I would love you forever if you could swing it.”
“You’ll love me forever anyway.” I hear her giving instructions to the drive-bot, then she adds to me, “I’ll be there in fifteen. Need to grab my tools first.”
“I would be glad to assist,” Vel adds. “I have some mechanical aptitude.”
To say the least. He knows more about gadgets and gizmos than anyone I’ve ever met, save Dina. And when they work in concert, there’s nothing they can’t accomplish. I’m feeling better about this already.
“This is doable?” Argus asks.
“Very. Here’s what I need you to do now. Tell the students to take the rest of the day off because tomorrow, they start wrapping up their training.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Absolutely. We’ll work through the night to make all the necessary adjustments.” I do a little math in my head. “I can probably do five classes a day, which means it’ll take me a bit less than a week to handle the ones already on hand. I’ll need your help prioritizing by those who arrived first. I trust you took notes?”
“Yes, I have plenty of records. I just didn’t know what to do with them after I failed my first attempts to show them the difference.”
I laugh softly. “You get high marks for stalling.”
He shrugs. “I really just want to jump.”
“You’ll be in demand, don’t worry. There will be shipping companies that’ll pay you a fortune at this point to get their goods moving again.”
“I’m ready for a job like that,” Argus says. “Relatively low pressure.”
“Had enough of the thrills, chills, and death-defying?”
His young face grows somber. “Esme died in the attack on Venice Minor.”
I remember her; she was the young blonde with whom he celebrated his first solo jump. Though I don’t say so aloud, he now knows what it’s like to be a jumper. Death stalks us through our days, taking those we love as if in warning not to forget how great a hold it has on us. Loss rides us from birth to grave, endless shadow cast over the euphoria that burns in grimspace.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“It stopped being a game then.” He’s older now. I should’ve noticed at once, but I was focused on sorting the training situation here.
“Did you love her?”
He gives the question thoughtful consideration, then shakes his head. “I didn’t bother getting to