Publisher: Ace
(August 31, 2010)
ISBN-10: 0441019412
ISBN-13: 978-0441019410
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Blurb
TALK IS CHEAP WHEN LIVES ARE IN JEOPARDY
Sirantha Jax is a “Jumper,” a woman who possesses the unique genetic makeup needed to navigate faster than light ships through grimspace. With no tolerance for political diplomacy, she quits her ambassador post so she can get back to saving the universe the way she does best—by mouthing off and kicking butt.
And her tactics are needed more than ever. Flesh-eating aliens are attacking stations on the outskirts of space, and for many people, the Conglomerate’s forces are arriving too late to serve and protect them.
Now, Jax must take matters into her own hands by recruiting a militia to defend the frontiers—out of the worst criminals, mercenaries, and raiders that ever traveled through grimspace…
Excerpt: Killbox
The first taste is free.
I.
Grimspace blazes through me like a star gone nova.
I’m the happiest junkie who ever burned chem because this is where I belong. Kaleidoscopic fire burns against the hull, seeming as though it should consume us, but we are the only solid thing in this realm of ghosts and echoes. Sometimes I think this place holds all the potential for everything that ever was, everything that ever shall be. It’s a possibility vortex, and thus it lacks any shape of its own.
I glory in the endorphins pounding through me. Cations sparkle in my blood, marking me as unique, even among thrill-seekers. You see, my life started here.
Unfortunately, the rush is fleeting, and I need to carry us safely through. I focus on the beacons; they pulse as if in answer to my command. Here, I feel powerful, damn near invincible, however much a lie that proves to be. Jumpers almost never die old and gray.
March swells inside me, filing my head with warmth. My pilot, who is also my lover, feels natural there. Anybody else would wonder at that, but if you’re a jumper, you get used to sharing mind-space. In fact, I’m lonely without him there.
He manipulates the ship so we can jump. The phase drum hums, all juiced up, and we swing out of grimspace. Homesickness floods me at once, but I battle it back. No point in dwelling in what can never be—staying in grimspace would kill me. At least I’m jumping again. Not too long ago, I thought I’d have to choose between my addiction and my life. The decision isn’t as obvious as you might think.
I unplug, still savoring the boost, and check the star charts. Oh, nice, a clean jump.
“Good work.” March grins at me and steals a kiss.
I’m so happy that he wants to.
He’s not as pretty as the men I’ve been with before. I used to have an eye for the lovely, androgynous ones, but I guess deep down, I don’t mind a bit of the brute. March has strong, angular features and a nose that’s obviously been broken. But his eyes, his eyes shine like sun through amber. I could spend hours looking at him.
But business before pleasure—I have an important message to send. With a jaunty wave, I leave the cockpit and head for my quarters. I share the space with March. Despite that, it’s an austere environment: plain berth, terminal, lighting fortified with solar simulators to compensate for lack of nutrient D3, if you spend too much time on board.
Constance greets me, flickering into a 3-D image projected from my terminal. She’s everywhere and nowhere, blazing her way through the ship from terminal to terminal. I don’t know if we’ll ever convince her to come back to a physical shell, now that she’s tasted the power and freedom a starship can offer. She’s either fused with the vessel’s limited AI or overridden it. Regardless, I suspect there’s something illegal in what we’ve done, and I couldn’t care less.
“All systems indicate a smooth arrival, Sirantha Jax.”
I smile. “You got that right.”
Since we jumped from Ithiss-Tor to the beacon closest to New Terra, the crew could be forgiven for thinking we intend to land there. That’s what our orders demand. Instead we’re heading away from the planet. We’re not operating on the Conglomerate’s credits, and this is a vessel out of Lachion, so I can do something I’ve been longing for since the minute I acceded to that rock and a hard place decision. Jael was right about one thing. People seem to think it’s all right to force me to choices that range from bad to worse.
No longer.
I add, “Activate comm. I need to bounce a message to Chancellor Tarn.”
“Acknowledged.”
The system glimmers to life before me, and I sit down to record. This won’t take long. Constance zips through the protocols, leaving the proper software in place. In the shadowy light, I can see myself in the terminal, and it’s an eerie feeling, alone but not.
I could make this a lot more detailed. Instead I go with blunt, which is my favorite style of communication. If I never have to dissemble again, that will be wonderful. My time on Ithiss-Tor damn near killed me, figuratively and literally.
I imagine Tarn playing this message and smile. Then I deliver two words: “I quit.” Satisfied, I stop the program and tell Constance, “Send it right away, please.”
“My pleasure, Sirantha Jax. Do you require anything else?”
“Not at the moment. Feel free to go back to exploring the ship.”
Like she needs my permission. She’s been blazing through the circuits since Dina set her free from the memory spike. Under her direction, the long-haul fuel system has increased efficiency by fourteen percent. Though I had no hope of the merchants on Ithiss-Tor doing so, Constance might even improve the phase drive from the inside out.
Standing, I consider the consequences of what I’ve just done.
Tarn may reply with bluster and words of obligation; he might say I have a duty during mankind’s darkest hour. Maybe he’ll even accuse me of turning tail when the chips are down. Once, those accusations might have even been true.
Now my skin is too thick with scars for such barbs to draw blood. I know my own mettle. I’ve glimpsed my breaking point. And Tarn will never, ever have my measure.
I choose not to serve the Conglomerate as an ambassador, but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on humanity. Surrender isn’t a word in my personal lexicon; there are other ways and means. If nothing else, Ithiss-Tor taught me there’s always a choice.
Now we’re heading for the last place anyone would ever look for us, Emry Station. It will be a long haul in straight space, but this isn’t a frequently traveled trade route, and there’s nothing here to attract pirates and raiders. We should pass unnoticed.
After the Morgut attack, Surge and Kora turned the place into a virtual fortress, complete with junker tech that will prevent the docking of Morgut vessels. Therefore, we couldn’t find a safer place if we searched the whole galaxy, but we’re not going there just to hide or to see old friends, although that’s part of it.
I step out into the corridor and nearly run into Vel. He goes without human skin these days, more often than not. I hope that means he feels sure of his welcome.
“I wanted to tell you that I’ve nearly completed the simulator you requested.”
My brows arch. “Already?”
“It was not difficult,” he tells me with a flex of his mandible. “All Farwan’s data is now a matter of public record.”
“And you can build anything I might want from a schematic.” I try to restrain a smile. From anyone else, that claim would seem like bragging.
“I am unfamiliar with artificial intelligence,” he says then.
Right. So he can’t build an android from the plans. Good to know.
“Thanks. Will you find Argus for me? I want to talk to him.”
I’ve got an idea. Maybe it’s crazy, but then again, some of the best ideas are. Can you imagine the reaction they gave the guy who first found phase drive technology? This is certainly less radical. Vel inclines his head and then heads off down the hall.
Later, I’m ensconced in the starboard lounge when Argus finds me. He’s young, one of Keri’s distant cousins, and he has the J-gene. Doc confirmed it for me today. The kid first came to my attention when I was investigating a murder attempt back on Ithiss-Tor. Argus broke the rules and slid planetside to get a glimpse of the unknown. Too bad for him, he couldn’t figure out how to leave the spaceport.
He strides up to my table and offers an awkward bow. His earnest courtesy makes me want to smile, but I don’t. I know how easily these kids bruise. I want his willing cooperation, so I’ll need to deal with him carefully.
There are others in the break area, mostly clansmen, and a few of them raise their brows when they see the captain’s lady invite a young man to join her. Tough. Mary knows, they’d talk even more if I did this in my quarters.
“Have a seat,” I invite.
Argus takes me at my word and drops down into the chair opposite me. Wariness wars with excitement in his young face. I think he knows already that I have a reason for summoning him. This isn’t a social visit.
“Good to see you again…” He trails off, unsure what rank to use for me, and unwilling to presume the intimacy of my name.
“Jax is fine. I have this idea,” I continue. “Maybe jumpers can be trained outside an Academy. If a starship were outfitted with a simulator, a lead jumper could take on an apprentice and spend the downtime in straight space teaching him the ropes. It might also be possible to tweak the nav computer so that both jumpers could jack-in at once.”
His excitement spikes to painful levels; his smile becomes blinding. “Do I think it’s possible or do I want to sign on?”
“Let’s start with the first question.”
Argus nods. “I think it could work. We teach kids to drive in vehicles like that dirtside. Why not up here?”
I go on, “I think you’re right. It wouldn’t take too much to tweak this ship into a training vessel. That way, the lead jumper is there to make sure things go smoothly. Like any apprenticeship, it would have a time-limit and a graduation ceremony.”
“I want in,” Argus says. “I’ll do it.”
“It may be a while before I have all the technology in place,” I warn. “We have good people on board, but I won’t risk a jump unless the gear has been perfected and I’m sure you’re ready.”
“Whatever you think best,” he answers.
Well, that’s a good start.
“The good news is, I have a simulator standing by. It’ll give you the feel for grimspace and replicate the pulse of the beacons. At the academy we trained on those for years before ever touching a ship.”
He grimaces a little. “Well, I hope it doesn’t take years, but I know a jumper has to be well-trained. I would never put the ship at risk.”
There’s good steel in this one. We talk a little longer, but he’s eager to be off to tell his friends that he’s been accepted as an apprentice-jumper, the first in this new program. Whether he knows it or not, Argus Dahlgren will make history; he’ll be the first of his kind—a jumper trained outside of Farwan’s academies. It’ll be up to me to make sure he does the role proud.
“So you did it,” March says from behind me. “You think he’ll be ready in time?”
We’ve talked about this at length. It’s his idea, his dream, and I’m going to make it happen. Not the way they originally intended, but sometimes paradigms must be improved.
“I hope so,” I say quietly. “We need this, if we have any hope of winning.”
His big hands on my shoulders feel hard and warm. I lean back against him, resigned to a long haul. But at least I can use the time working with Argus.
I’m tired of taking orders. It’s time for me to decide my own destiny. And that’s just what I’m going to do.
