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 leadjumper is there to make sure things go smoothly. Like any apprenticeship, it would have a training period and a commencement.”
“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 a 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 adapted and improved.
“I hope so,” I say quietly. “We need this if we have any hope of winning the war against the Morgut.”
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.
Mostly, 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.
CHAPTER 2
We’ve been cruising for about four days, heading away from New Terra, when disaster strikes.
I awaken to the sound of Klaxons. Next to me, March bounds to his feet and starts scrambling into his clothes. His face seems all hard planes in the half-light, softened by the shock of dark hair and his hawk’s eyes. Though this is new to me, I recognize the warning, even without Constance on the comm.
“This is not a drill or a technical malfunction. Your vessel is under attack.” She sounds so polite and unruffled that I cannot help but smile.
My hands feel clumsy as I tug up my black jumpsuit. Mary, it feels good to be back in familiar gear. “What do you want me to do? We can’t jump from here.”
“Check in with Dina at weapons,” he says over his shoulder, already on his way out.
No time for other niceties.
The ship rocks. In a vessel this size, that can’t be good. Even without seeing it, I know we’re taking heavy damage. It doesn’t make sense, though. We’re not a merchantman or a freighter. We’re not hauling contraband, and we’re well off the beaten path.
I take off for the gunnery bay at a dead run. Dina’s already there when I burst in. She’s got lasers, but she can’t work those as well as the particle cannons. We also have old-fashioned projectiles from an ancient rail gun, but those are best directed at personnel attempting to board, not ships.
“I’ll take cannons,” she snaps. “Get your ass in the chair. Besides March and me, you’re the only one with any interstellar live combat experience.”
High praise, indeed.
“Is that why you’re not trying to keep this thing in one piece up in engineering?”
“The only reason,” she mutters. “I hope those clansmen know what they’re doing.”
“How’re we holding up?”
“Better than expected. Our hull’s been reinforced.”
I bring the sighting apparatus down over my head, and suddenly I’m out in space, part of the fight in a way that scares the shit out of me, even though it’s not my first time. I tap the panel, and the system whines, telling me it needs time to power up. This is a hell of a cutter we’re fighting, slim but fast, and outfitted with enough ordnance to destroy a small planet. Whoever these assholes are, they’re serious. To my eyes it looks like a Silverfish adapted for spaceflight, but I don’t know if that’s possible.
Their shots nearly blind me, but they soar wide, striking the Gunnar-Dahlgren vessel far starboard. I don’t know what they were aiming at, but they missed weapons. Maybe our engines?
I can see but not hear Dina’s first volley; she hits the other vessel in a clean blow that takes out the aft shields. This is more advanced than the technology on the Folly, the first ship March ever owned. For a second I can’t breathe because of all the black space around me. There’s no air here.
With sheer will, I choke it back and tell myself this is only a sim. Focus on the other ship. The system cycles, then shows ready. I just have to point and shoot.
“Do we want to disable or disintegrate them?”
Before her next shot, Dina taps the comm. “Use deadly force?”
March’s voice fills the room, giving me courage as if he’s beside me. “Confirmed. We are at war.”
That’s all I needed to know. I spin the sight and target the panel where they’re trying to restore shields. A tap magnifies my target, then I fire until the lasers whine, telling me they’re out of juice for the time being.