Endgame (32 page)

At last, he’s someone else, and I’m wearing a maid’s attire. “You ready to hit the security room?” I ask.

He pats his pack. “Set.”

I lead the way, glad to be active again. There are no words for how sick I am of playing the submissive, obedient female.

A sole Pretty Robotics worker occupies the security room. Helpful. Vel disables it with an EMP and wipes the short-term data drive while I search the security cameras for the footage that shows our arrival. Since we weren’t publicly dead yet, there was no outcry; we were just another couple here for some afternoon delight. That’s not shocking, completely in character with what the VI sees every day.

“Here,” I say. “And there’s a backup.”

Quickly, efficiently, Vel corrupts the footage so it’s impossible to tell who we are. This is better than deletion, which might make someone think there was a secret being kept—and credits to be had for exposing it. This? It’s technical failure, and it happens often in places where the hardware isn’t top-of-the-line.

“Done,” Vel says.

“Let’s roll.”

My heart pounds frantically as I step onto the moving walk. Only the poor—of whom there are a few—and the La’hengrin use the ground transports. The moving walk takes us to the hub, where we catch an enormous land ferry to the provinces. They don’t go all the way to the villages, mind. Once you hit the pastoral hub, then you walk…or if you’re lucky, someone picks you up.

Vel uses his body as a shield, keeping everyone away from me, as I’m the weak link as we make our getaway. This run is terrifying…and exhilarating. I’m smiling by the time I climb onto the ferry, which rumbles and puffs like the outdated tech it is. I can’t believe these beasts are still running. They’re part combustion engine, part solar-powered, and they have great tires that flatten the foliage as they go. There are no roads, per se, but in a vehicle like this one, they aren’t required. No pilots, either. Just a VI who knows the route by heart and will not accept deviations, regardless of rationale or request.

I take a seat at the back, and Vel slides in beside me. There are few people on the transport—just an older La’hengrin male, who has probably outlived his usefulness to his protector. Nobody goes out to the provinces if they have a choice; the cities have all the work, all the opportunity. But that’s the whole problem with this system. The La’hengrin
don’t
have any choice.

When we reach the camp after hours of hiking, I’m tired.
It’s located in a sheltered valley that we find by virtue of coordinates on Vel’s handheld. At first glance, it doesn’t look like much, but as I draw closer, I see bodies and tents—it’s a fully mobile encampment, nothing big or heavy. Everything can be folded and squared away in field kits.

There’s a sentry. The light is behind him, dying behind the mountains in a sienna halo, blinding me to everything but his shape. He calls out, “Password?” And then levels the gun on us, just in case we don’t know it.

They’re taking no chances. It’s unlikely Imperials could find this place without capturing one of us, but better not to risk compromising the operation. I haven’t communicated with Loras in weeks, but he set up this rendezvous via Suni Tarn.

“Vector 7845,” Vel responds.

“Welcome back!” The sentry turns out to be Xirol. “That you, Jax?” He peers at me; he’s the only one who’s seen my new face.

I nod. “Sorry, I know it’s weird for you.”

His face has gained lines, and he’s lost his easy smile.
Which means something terrible has happened. Dread grows like a fungus in my gut.

“Go on. Loras is waiting for you.”

I trudge past the picket into a small knot of tents. There are no fires burning. Instead, there are a couple of small chemical stoves that emit no rads, no smoke.

Something is cooking in a primitive-looking pot, and it smells fantastic. I realize I don’t remember when last I ate.

Glancing around, I take stock further, doing a head count. This isn’t just our cell…and I wonder what’s up. I find the guerilla warlord himself sitting at a camp table with charts and maps spread before him. It’s shockingly low-tech, but they can’t track us through the bounce, either. This is less efficient but more secure. Once he’s made all the plans, committed them to memory, the paper burns.

He looks up with a distracted smile. “Jax?”

“Yes, it’s me. Brief us?” While the war rages in the provinces, our unit is now positioned close enough to strike at the capital.

He hesitates. “Our squad required augmentation. There were…losses.”

“Who?” Vel asks.

“They caught Bannie two weeks ago. Rikir disregarded my orders and tried to save her. The Imperials executed them both quietly.”

That explains Xirol’s expression. “What happened, exactly?”

Loras studies me. “Xirol tried to go. Rikir restrained him physically, and we sedated X for his own protection. I didn’t think anyone else was close enough to Bannie to require it. In the morning, Rik was gone. He left a note.”

“What did it say?” I ask.

“That he was doing this for Xirol, who was like a brother to him. He knew Xirol would never rest until he got her back or died trying.”

“Shit.”

“I am so sorry,” Vel says.

So who’s left? I saw the sad, broken version of Xirol coming in. Zeeka waves at me from across the camp, and there’s Farah, frowning at the med kit. So there are only six of us
now. It hits me hard; I’ll never see Bannie, Eller, Rikir, or Timmon again, and for a while, we were inseparable. We were a unit. Maybe if I’d been there, I could’ve done something…but that’s survivor’s guilt talking. I ought to know. I’ve felt it before.

But there are certain practical implications. “Does this mean the base has been compromised?”

Loras spreads his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “I’ve got an ear on Imperial comms. So far, no chatter has surfaced on whether they got critical intel from the captives. We’ll proceed with caution. The base is crucial to ops and deployment. I can’t give up the resources unless we’re sure the hammer’s coming down.”

Oh, Mary. March and Sasha…
Every second we gamble, they’re in danger. I can’t lose March. Not when I sacrificed Doc to save him. It has to mean something, or I won’t be able to stand myself.

Like a good soldier, however, I hide my feelings. “What’s going on here?”

“I’m building a small Special Forces unit,” Loras explains, addressing my initial question. “For missions that require unique skills. They’ll remain with us, permitting greater control in their deployment.”

Across the camp, I study the new soldiers. With a shock, I recognize Sasha. The man next to him can only be March. He turns, as if sensing me, skims the camp, and frowns. He shakes his head, the puzzled expression deepening into a full scowl.

Thank Mary. They’re safe.
At this moment, I don’t even care why they’re here. It’s enough that they are.

“Will you excuse me?” I say to Vel and Loras.

They follow my gaze, then Loras nods. “Certainly. I’ll go over the new mission with you later.”

I’m nervous as I cross to him. He looks like he thinks he’s going crazy, feeling me nearby, but he doesn’t
see
me. I pause in front of him until he glances down at me without a hint of recognition. If he came into my head, he’d know, but March doesn’t do that with random strangers; it took him forever to learn to block.

“Can I help you?” His amber eyes are cool, assessing, and
disinterested. If I ever wondered how March looks at other women, this shows me.

“I guess I have some explaining to do.” My voice hasn’t changed.

But he doesn’t give me a chance. He pulls me into his arms, and he’s in my head in the same motion, all glowing warmth.
I thought I’d lost my mind. I sensed you, but…okay, this is different. I can’t say it’s entirely unexpected, though. Leviter gave me a heads-up in his communiqué.
His gift comes in handy because I can transmit information quickly…while he kisses me senseless. Before the time we break apart, he knows everything that’s happened since I saw him last.

March leans back, studying my new face. He tips up my new chin and sighs. “You’re beautiful. But not Jax.”

“Vel needed backup.”

“Was it hard, giving yourself up for him?” By his expression, he wants to hear it was.

I nod. “I didn’t like the assignment, and I hate this new look. I may have it tweaked later though I don’t know if I’ll go back to old Jax entirely. I like people not knowing who I am. It may be an advantage later. But you said Leviter—”

“He hinted, obliquely, in one of his messages that you had undergone certain changes and ‘were not yourself.’ Now I see what he meant.”

Which explains why he’s not more taken aback. His presence in my head says he’s just relieved I’m alive, more than anything. I share the feeling.

“Was the mission a success?” March adds.

“Yeah.”

He gives me another visual inspection, this time head to toe. “This will take some getting used to. You look so young…and La’hengrin.”

I fear that might prove a sticking point. “I know. But people will think you’re irresistible.”

“They’ll think I’m a pervert.” But he kisses me again, drawing me against his chest, so I can hear his heart beat.

“I guess Sasha had his birthday, and he didn’t change his mind?”

“You guess right.”

“So you came with him.”

“Like I’d let him fight alone.”

Yeah, that’s not in character. It had to grate on him, hiding in the base all this time, even for Sasha’s sake. He’s a soldier to his core.

“Have you assessed Loras’s battle plans?”

“Yeah, I consult with him. He’s hammered out a sound strategy. If he can keep up the pressure on multiple fronts, I don’t see this taking long, relatively speaking, not with the numbers we can now bring to bear.”

“Relatively speaking?”

“Less than five turns.”

I make a mental note. “The campaign in the provinces has been successful then?”

March nods. “The more teams we put in the field, the faster it goes. So long as they’re just quietly roaming village to village, it doesn’t alert the Imperials.”

“The final phase has been a long time coming,” I say softly.

“But it’s in sight at last.” He keeps an arm around me, anchoring me against his side. “All the preparations are in place.”

Coming from March, that means a lot. On Nicuan, he received his share of bad orders and fought more than one lost cause. If he thinks we can do this, then it’s a matter of time.

“Who’s this? Jax is gonna
kill
you.” Sasha joins us, striding toward his uncle with a purposeful glare. I find his outrage rather endearing.

So I have to laugh. “It’s me.”

He recognizes me then, peering at my eyes. “They’re the same, but everything else is different.”

“Yeah, it’s a long story.” And I’m not telling it just now. “How long before we move out? And what’s the scoop on your new unit?”

“SpecForce,” Sasha says proudly. “I’m the strongest with TK 9. Dad’s never been tested, but he’s near TP 7. Others in the unit are PRE, CL-Aud, and Pyro.”

I’m guessing that’s precog, clairaudient, and pyrokinetic. “You’ve been training together?”

“Yep. We kick some ass, too. Shelby tells us
what’s coming, my dad confirms, Ceepak can hear it from ten klicks away, then Hammond and I destroy it.”

“Where do the rest of us come in?” The remainder of my unit.

Guilt surges again.

March replies, “Loras has it all worked out. We have a list of high-priority targets. We’re launching a number of simultaneous strikes.

“Excellent. Let me suit up.”

With a quiet kiss because he’s not my commander and I don’t give a shit what Loras thinks of fraternization in the rank and file, I head off to the tent where Farah’s waving to me. “It’s good to see you.” Unlike most, she isn’t surprised.

So she knew about the undercover stuff.

She goes on, “I have your uniforms here. Most of what you left behind, in fact.”

“Thanks. Let me get changed.”

There’s no time for socializing, though. When I come out, Loras commandeers me to go over his master plan, which has three stages and multiple targets, factoring for retaliation, escalation, and so many variables. When he’s finished, I have to admit it’s genius.

“We have the numbers to support this?” I ask.

He nods. “Absolutely.”

I glance over at Sasha, who’s the youngest of the Special Forces team. But none of them is over thirty turns. “Are you sure about this?”

Loras studies his splayed fingers for a few seconds and lifts his head. “Honestly? No. But the alternative is not to try, and I find that unacceptable.”

“Fair enough.”

Raising his voice, he calls to the rest of the camp. “We move out in the morning. Get some sleep. You’re all on leave tonight, so to speak.”

“But don’t go anywhere,” Zeeka calls.

Loras grins. “Exactly. I expect you all to be sharp at 0400.”

The whole crew groans, but it’s a good-natured sound. Excitement thrums beneath the surface because we all know the time is coming. No more hiding. No more secret schemes or sneaking around. It’s time to fight.

First, we go after their big ordnance.

“Target acquired,” Ceepak says.

It’s crazy, but the guy can hear a pin drop from ten klicks off, just like Sasha said. Or rather, he can sense it, even though he’s so far away, not with his ears, but his mind. I don’t know how this shit works; it only matters that it does.

Loras glances at the precog. “How does it look, Shelby?”

“Outlook’s good,” he replies. “No outside interference on my radar.”

“Move, move, move!”

Weapon in hand, I drive forward along with the others. When I get close, a rumble shakes the earth beneath my feet. Ceepak shouts, “Multiple mechs powering up. Some subterranean. All weapons arming.”

“Take cover!” Loras shouts. “Sasha, I want you on the heavy weapons.”

That makes sense, but March won’t love it. Yet he’s beside me behind this rise, hunkering down with gun in hand. Drones burst out into sight and I nail one with a clean shot. It sizzles, then slams into the ground in an orange arc. March takes another, and from all around me, shots come down. Then the
ground opens—a subterranean lift—and two Peacemaker units ascend.