Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [67]
Without further luxuriation, though I take great pleasure in being here, I cast out for the Marakeq beacon. They all feel different to me now in minute gradations, and so it takes a little longer to find it. There.
Hit follows my directions, and the phase drive pulls through me. It’s a peculiar symbiosis, using the beacons themselves to jump, but I think this is what the ancients intended all along. I suspect we’ve only unlocked a portion of their capabilities. In a thousand turns, jumpers may be traveling in ways that I can’t conceive right now.
The ship responds with an eager leap, pushing through to straight space, and I unplug. Next, I check on Baby-Z2. There’s no gear small enough to protect him, and I examine him to see if he’s taken any harm from the jump. His vitals are good, and he doesn’t appear changed in any fashion I can see, still alert, still interested in lights and sounds, with his neck craning around so he can peer out of my shirt.
“The Mareq okay?” she asks.
“Seems to be.”
I assess our location on the star charts. “Not bad. Four thousand klicks off.”
Direct jumps aren’t foolproof, I haven’t done enough of them to guarantee my accuracy, and I’m a little out of practice, what with my trial and incarceration. So I’ll take this.
“Won’t be a long haul,” Hit says. “I was meaning to ask . . . do you want us to come with you?”
“The better question is, do you want to?”
The small bundle beneath my shirt twitches. It’s time to bathe him, clean my chest, and freshen the protein gel. But I can wrap up this conversation first. Baby-Z2 clings to life as fiercely as his sibling did, determined to take his place among his people. And I’m doing my damnedest to get it done.
Her strong face turns thoughtful. “While it’d be fascinating to be part of a first-contact encounter, I’m afraid too large a party might spook the natives.”
I consider that. “There’s that chance. We might also need you and Dina as backup if the mission goes bad.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
The Big Bad Sue is too small to have a shuttle, so we’ll all go down on planet.
That’s not optional. But we don’t all have to hike out to the settlement. I’m running scans as we speak, pinpointing the place where we put down here. I have the eerie feeling of retracing my steps, but I’m so fragging different now that it’s like seeing the same things through new eyes. And I’ve lost so many people that I care about. The old Jax thought she knew pain, but the universe had an ocean of lessons to teach her about grief. I guess it’s made me stronger, or at least more dogged, because I don’t think about how I’m going to die so much anymore. I mostly think about how to keep my promises, one step at a time, one minute at a time.
“Then why don’t you remain on the ship. Can you take us down without crashing?” I ask, remembering the last time.
March is a good pilot, and between the atmosphere, the utter lack of ground support, the jungle, and the deceptive readings, we were lucky to get the Folly down in one piece. As I recall, that was when everything changed between us. I see his face now, so dark and ugly-beautiful with his broken nose and too-strong jaw, smeared with mud, rain spiking his lashes. There’s that damn ache again.
Oh, Mary, keep him safe. Watch over him until I see him again.
Hit glares. “I can’t even believe you just asked me that. Damn. Do you think this is my first low-tech landing?”
Despite my fear about things to come, I grin. “Sorry. Put us down right here.”
I slide the coordinates her way, and she studies the terrain, weather conditions, and the trajectory before giving a sharp nod. “This is gonna be fun.”
CHAPTER 21
Hit takes her own scans after I do, compiling data. It would be just our luck to arrive during hibernation season again. I’d come in trying to bring a hatchling home, and wind up waking another one. But no. That can’t happen, not without March. I won’t touch any birthing mounds as he did, nor will I sing the Coming-Forth song. Things will be different this time. I’ll make it better.
So I ask, “Do you see any life signs