Endgame

“Sasha! You coming? We’re heading out, brother.” For a La’hengrin male to term a human so, it’s the highest compliment they can offer.

From the kid’s expression, he knows. “On my way!” He adds to us, “You don’t mind, do you?”

Even if we did, he’d still go, because it’s time for him to find his own path. March, and sometimes I, have pointed him in the right direction. He’s a strong kid with his head on right. He’ll be fine.

But I wait for March’s reply. It’s simpler than I expected.

“Have fun. Love ya. And I’m gonna miss you. But you’re gonna kick all kinds of ass on New Terra.”

The kid flashes both fingers in a V for victory, then jogs over to join his buddies. These guys have been through hell together, and now it’s time to cut loose before their final farewell. La’heng better hide its daughters tonight.

I lean my head against March’s shoulder. “That was pretty hard, huh?”

He mutters a curse. “Hardest fragging thing I ever did, apart from leaving you.”

I’m walking a thin line with this jibe, but I can’t resist. I cant my head at him, eyes narrowed. “Which time?”

With a playful growl, he kisses me until the sky explodes.

CHAPTER 59

A free La’heng is a beautiful sight.

Fireworks arc up, and this time, the booms don’t mean take cover. As I pull back from endless kisses, a glorious kaleidoscope of color unfurls like a fan. Red sparks to blue, then to melting gold, gilding the sky in La’heng’s joy. Higher up, the departing Imperial ships show as streaks of light, growing ever dimmer until there are only stars to mar the dark tapestry of this fresh start for which we’ve fought so hard and sacrificed so much.

In awe, I admire the cheering crowds of La’hengrin embracing as Imperial troops withdraw from their homeworld. Not surprisingly, they want all aliens gone as soon as possible, even those who fought for their freedom. There will be no more overlords, no more shinai-bond. After so many turns, these people are free.

It’s a magical night, leaving all of us buoyant. March stands on one side; Vel guards the other. Though they both stare up at the fireworks along with me, they’re both on alert, just in case something goes wrong, in case my infamous Jax luck kicks in, and someone wants to rumble. But that’s not going to happen. Not here. Not now. I feel utterly at peace, completely whole. Content. That’s the word—not one I’ve invoked often before and certainly not in conjunction with myself, but Adele would be proud of what we’ve achieved here, and that’s my measuring stick for all good deeds.

“I cannot believe it is over at last,” Vel says softly.

His talons curl through my fingers and he gives a squeeze, a learned gesture, but one he knows I appreciate. March slides an arm around my shoulders, protecting me from the push of the crowd. I’m bound to both of them, but we’ve worked out the balance.

Zeeka bounces before us, indefatigable as ever. Though I feared combat would change his personality and darken his outlook, he’s lost nothing. Instead, he’s only gained a patina of experience that teaches him it’s right to fight for those who need our aid. His mother, Dace, would be pleased with that lesson, I suspect. Maybe we’ll have a chance to ask her. At this point, our destination’s written in stardust—anywhere and everywhere, that’s where you’ll find us.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” Zeeka asks.

I nod.

The celebration will go on for hours, but we can’t stay for the finale, which comes at dawn. That’s only for the native La’heng. And so it’s time for us to tie up our loose ends and head toward the starport. As if privy to my thought, Loras and Farah fight past their admiring public to join us. Even now, I catch my breath at her beauty. She’s the incarnation of joy, glowing with love for him. The First Lord and Lady of La’heng will serve their people well in the turns to come. For my friend, this ended well—in all ways. Together, they’ll build a life and a tradition of independence.

“Jax…thank you for everything. I couldn’t have done this without the three of you. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry to make you go. It’s not that we are unappreciative,” Loras explains. “But it’s time for La’heng to stand alone. We cannot do that with foreign advisors whispering in our ears.”

I shrug, smiling. “I’ve been grounded long enough. It’s beyond time for me to get back out onto the star roads.”

March nods. “With Sasha settled, I’m ready to ship out.”

Farah bows to us formally. “Foreigners will not be welcome here for many turns. The council thinks it best for us to close our borders and make certain we’re strong enough before we entertain diplomatic envoys.”

Given their experience with outsiders, I don’t blame them. This time, the Conglomerate will respect those wishes. Leviter and Tarn will see to it. I wonder where they’ll go. With a past like Leviter’s, though, it’s best for him to run silent. So strange to think the people with whom I worked and struggled and schemed for so long—Loras, Farah, Leviter, and Tarn—I may never see again. We’ve come to our final parting of the ways.

A pang of melancholy pierces me. I ignore it and puff out a long breath, determined to be brave. So I smile for Loras and Farah. “Will you see us off?”

“That’s the best part of the job,” he cracks.

His consort raps him on the arm. “Loras!”

“Jax knows I’m kidding. If she hadn’t brought her special brand of chaos to bear, none of this would’ve happened. I know that…and I’ll never forget her.”

The tears threaten, and I almost can’t contain the burn this time. “Just…bounce me a message sometime. Maybe when you have your first kid…or shoot down your first ship for violating La’heng airspace.”

Loras nods. “Either, or.”

The crowd clears as I follow Loras. They esteem him so highly that they don’t shove toward him. I’m sure he seems almost a god in their eyes; and I hope he doesn’t grow to take such adulation for granted and abuse it down the turns, changing his wreath of laurel leaves for a tyrant’s crown. But that’s not my worry.

At long last, I’m free, too.

Grimspace’s clarion call thrums in my veins. Come home, Jax. Come home.

Each footfall brings me closer to that ultimate goal, but I’m no longer thinking of how I might die. No, now I consider the ways in which I might live. It’s a huge universe, and I intend to see everything.

To pass the throngs more easily, we fall into pairs with Loras and Farah forging ahead, March and Zeeka in the middle, and Vel beside me. As it should be. He seems happy tonight, though I’m not sure if it’s the satisfaction of a long-held goal achieved or if he’s looking forward to our future.

There’s nothing to fear with Vel. There never has been, even when he was hunting me. He’s the most honorable person I’ve ever known.

So I ask.

“Both,” he replies.

I should’ve known. “Where do you want to go first?”

He lifts a shoulder in an easy half shrug. “Wherever you please.”

I need to think about it, but there’s time. Or maybe I don’t. That’s never been my strong suit, after all. Perhaps I’ll just twirl a finger over a random star chart, and off we’ll go. That sounds right, given my history. More often than not, nobody can predict what comes next in my story, not even me.

After ten minutes of walking, we reach the spaceport, already stuffed with other foreigners being politely escorted to their ships. In the flurry, I spot Tarn and Leviter standing together. They make a handsome couple, one distinguished with salt-and-pepper hair, the other a silver fox with a clever face. Their affection is obvious in their stance, the gentle tilt of their shoulders, and it lifts my heart to see them safe.

I weave through the crowd. “Thank you both for everything. If it was coincidence that found you here, then I suppose I ought to thank Mary for it instead.”

Leviter smiles. “There is no such thing as coincidence, my dear Jax. Only immaculate planning.”

They’re not the sort of men you hug, so I content myself with a hearty handshake for each of them before I turn to Tarn. “I count us square now, you know. I’ve even forgiven you for trying to have me killed for doing my duty.”

Tarn throws back his head and laughs. “You’ve always been adequate at putting yourself in harm’s way, no special help needed on my end.”

“Take care,” I say. “Both of you.”

Hurriedly, I rejoin the others before I can get even more emotional. Loras and Farah are waiting, hand in hand. They won’t leave until we board the ship. It’s a fine vessel with sufficient space for all of us. By some chance, we’ve ended up with two pilots and two navigators, which means we can travel twice as fast, twice as far. Serendipity, you might call that, or some master plan to which I’m not privy.

All I know is, I’ll take it.

I’ve lost so many people along the way. This is where I draw the line and tell the universe: You will take nothing more from me.

“Mary bless and keep you,” Loras says.

They don’t believe in Mary on La’heng. It’s a human story, but he speaks the words to honor and comfort me. Farah echoes them. There are no phrases sufficient for what I want to say or to encompass the way we were, so I keep silent. Anything else would be inadequate.

I lift a hand in farewell and turn to the others. “Are you ready?”

Zeeka nods. “Can I have the first jump?”

He’s the bright light; I’m the old saw. Navigating isn’t new to me, but it will thrill Z to have this moment. Even if he gets it wrong, well, it’s not like we had anywhere to be, and he’s been looking forward to this for such a long time. Over the turns, I’ve learned to share and to step back from the spotlight.

“Of course.”

“I’ll take us up,” Vel offers, “so you can watch with March from the observation deck.”

A glance at March tells me he’s okay with that. He confirms, I’d love to see the stars with you. We’ll find a place to get those matching tatts along the way. I couldn’t have put it better myself. The four of us board the ship without looking back.

I stop Vel briefly with a hand on his arm. “Bounce a message as soon as you can and set up a rendezvous with Dina’s crew.”

“Understood, Sirantha.”

“Great idea,” March says. “Wonder what they’ve been up to.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

Vel and Zeeka head for the cockpit then, and we turn toward the observation deck. You’re sure this is what you want? I ask silently. It won’t be safe or settled. I’m never going to live in a house again. And I won’t age like you do. It may be hard.

March’s warmth fills me with unshakable certainty. You and me, until the day I die. Absolutely. I don’t care if it’s hard.