Endgame

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.

CHAPTER 45

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.

Like all such mechs, they boom a warning. “Civil disobedience in progress. Vacate the area, or you will be pacified.”

Which means blown the frag up. Nobody moves.

“Draw their fire,” Loras calls. “So Sasha can work.”

Yeah, we don’t want our young TK-9 to be splattered. I pop out of cover and fire a volley that sparks on the ground before them. If they were smarter, they’d realize I’m not even aiming properly, but Peacemaker units are not blessed with sophisticated processors. Not like Constance. They don’t even have a proper VI chip.

The one on the left fires up its chest-mounted cannon until it’s whirring blue-white, then it unloads on my position. Before me, the ground craters and March pulls me back against him. Though I’m hard to kill, one hit from a Peacemaker unit would do it. I’d be nothing but chunky meat. I feel sick with the risk but also reassured by it. I’m not indestructible.

“Let someone else take a turn,” he murmurs.

“Roger that.”

I stay down while listening to laser fire. Then there’s an interesting sound, like the Peacemaker is shooting wild. Sticking my head up, I see that Sasha’s got one of the mechs airborne and he’s lifting it high enough for gravity to do the damage. The kid’s face shows bright red, his brow gleaming with sweat. The chest cannon is pointed straight up with no target; energy goes up and dissipates, until he spins the unit, then it nails the Peacemaker below it, and Sasha slams them together with enough force to pop them into metal fragments. I cheer along with everyone else.

One of the Special Forces guys—Hammond, I think—yells, “Good job, kid!”

That’s funny, considering he’s, at most, three turns older than Sasha. But before we get too cocky, smaller mechs and more drones come out of the sublevel. These lack the armor plating the Peacemaker units have, so I can take them out, one by one, with careful shooting. They’re not ranked for hard-core combat. I’m sure the Imperials thought their cache was secure enough not to require a rugged armored force to defend it.