by TR Cameron
Nikolai Maarsen smiled up from behind his desk. He wore a tan suit with a white shirt and no tie, a shade lighter than the longish hair on his head and face, but with less grey. His thin mustache and beard were better sculpted than when Jax had seen the man last, as were his sideburns. Maybe yesterday was barber day or something. “Captain Reese, wonderful to see you again.”
Jax managed a thin smile that he was sure the other man saw right through. “Wonderful to be back. So what’s up?” He was saddened to discover the Professor wasn’t offering his guests any of the amazing whiskey held captive in the decanter on the corner of his desk. Ah well. After the long trip, it might put me straight to sleep. He was consistently good at managing time zone changes, but it usually required a night’s rest to get himself set onto a new schedule.
Major Stephenson shook her head. “I told you he’d be annoyed.”
Maarsen laughed and beamed at them both. “Of course. But what sort of teacher would I be if I didn’t remind Jackson of his control concerns right off the bat?”
He sighed inwardly. The Academy’s purpose, as it had been explained to him, was to identify something hindering a person and endeavor to fix it. Usually, that thing wasn’t something the subject was aware of. In his case, Maarsen had theorized that he had issues around control, specifically the “wanting to be in” part. Under the guise of helping him with his malfunctioning prosthetics—which was connected to the issue, apparently—the Professor had sent Jax on a couple of missions that pushed him to trust others, rather than relying mainly on himself. In the month or so that had followed his last trip to Earth, he’d put those lessons into practice during training and action with his team. And, reluctantly, Jax had admitted to himself that the Professor might have been onto something. Maybe.
The older man’s mirth faded, and he wiped his eyes. “So, to business, then. Major, the information you sent was an invaluable piece of the puzzle, allowing us to drop several other things we knew into their proper places. The picture is beginning to come into clarity.”
She nodded. “And the next move?”
He turned his attention to Jax. “Will involve the captain, to be sure, since we already know that he’s talented at blending into Confederacy worlds.”
Stephenson asked, “So I guess offering money didn’t work?”
The Professor shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. The one official we thought might be amenable resisted the bait. It was a longshot at best, anyway.”
She frowned. “Your people didn’t give the game away, I hope.”
He offered her a dour look. “Anika, please. Of course not.”
She grinned. “Gotcha.”
Maarsen laughed again and rapped a knuckle on the surface of the desk. “So you did. Well done. Since that’s out of the way, maybe we should give Jackson some context.” He pulled a tablet out of a lower drawer, activated it, and slid it across. Jax caught it and reviewed the display.
It showed a block of nondescript buildings on a street he didn’t recognize. They were each at least ten stories tall, with some reaching as many as twenty, and their seemingly random arrangement reminded him of a mouthful of perfectly vertical chipped teeth. The coloring was right too, some of them pure white, some a little yellow, and others a dirty grey in need of brushing. “What am I looking at?”
Stephenson answered, “Planet Ezora, home to the closest sector headquarters of the Confederacy government. Since it’s relatively nearby, there’s a decent presence from them, the Coalition, and the UCCA. That should allow you to get close without generating too much suspicion.”
He nodded. “What’s the objective?”
Maarsen replied, “Find a way into the admin building, grab every bit of evidence you can find about the connection between the Confederacy and aliens, in or out of the Coalition, and get out. Kind of like your other tasks for us.”
Jax chuckled darkly. “Let’s hope this one goes more smoothly than those did.”
Stephenson looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I meant to ask you about that. What was it, something about having lost your clothes at the resort while drunk?”
He shook his head. “A strategy. Playing a role. And playing it well, I might add. What’s important is that it worked.” He turned back to the Professor. “This sounds like it has significantly more potential disaster on the downside than the last one though, sneaking into a government building.”
The other man nodded. “Yes. Your cover identities will be as pirates, and we’ll have you outfitted so that nothing can be traced to here, or to the UCCA. We’ve acquired such things over the years and stored them against such a need.”
“So you’ll be sending me in with a team again? Same one as before?”
Maarsen smiled. “They’re all conveniently in residence at the moment, and none of them has shown an unwillingness to work with you again.”
Jax laughed. “That’s quite the vote of confidence, there, Professor.”
Stephenson grunted. “Well, to be fair, they’ve only had the one experience, and you did get naked.”
He closed his eyes and controlled his tone. “I did not. Get. Naked.” The others shared a laugh at his expense while he shook his head in defeat. “Fine, whatever. Timetable?”
Maarsen looked at Jax’s superior. “Any reason on your end to wait?”
She shrugged. “Give our people another day to sift the data. If they find something, great. If they don’t, we start this, but hold off on executing it until we’re certain they’ve gotten all there is to get.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He addressed Jax. “Okay with you?”
“Sure. I need some sleep in any case.” He checked his watch and grinned. “And some food. Time to hit the dining hall.”
Stephenson laughed. “Best idea you’ve had all day. Professor, join us?”
Maarsen shook his head. “Some final things to set into motion. I’ll catch up with you later, Major. Jackson, have a good rest. If I know Cia, and I like to think I do, she’ll want to get started early tomorrow.”
Chapter Six
Jax was up before dawn the following morning, as always, and completed his preparations in record time. He threw on civilian clothing and headed for breakfast. He was digging into his pile of pancakes when a familiar voice sounded from behind him. “Hey stranger, welcome back.” Cia dropped a plate of food onto the square table in front of the seat beside his, then casually strode toward the magnificent coffee urn in the corner. When she returned with two full mugs and put one next to him, he grinned.
“Okay. Clearly, you want something. What is it?”
She laughed and sat in her chair, grabbed her utensils, and dove into her meal rather than answering. After a minute, she sighed and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Damn. I was starving. I think it’s your manliness. It makes me insatiable.” The sarcasm in her tone was thick and heavy, and it was like they’d been apart for hours instead of a month.
Jax shook his head with a look of false concern. “Well, that does happen. You could probably go see the doctor, get some sort of libido-suppressing drug or something.”
She nodded. “Or maybe I could up my standards a bit from the sub-basement where they must be living for me to find you appealing.” She speared a piece of sausage and chewed it loudly. “So, have you returned for the mission, or is it a random coincidence?”
“Do you think anything here is ever really coincidence?”
“No. You’re learning. That’s good.” She grinned. “The rest of the team is already on the Grace. I came back to grab some food and pick you up. While you were sleeping, we’ve been working. Slacker. With the resting and the laziness.”
Jax shook his head and lifted his mug in a toast. “Thank heavens that I can always rely on some things never to change, like the fact the Professor is inscrutable, the coffee is delicious, and you’re an idiot.”
Cia chortled. “Good comeback. I think you may have gotten smarter while you were away. Another few years, and
you’ll hit the ‘average’ marker. Don’t give up.”
They traded insults for the rest of the meal, Jax enjoying every second of it and Cia feeling the same, to judge by the happy grin she displayed in between trying to gross him out by showing him her half-chewed food. The drive up to the airfield was uneventful, the driver the same one that had ferried him up from Inverness.
The Grace waited in her hangar, buttoned up and ready to go. Even the stairs had been pulled away, requiring them to use the retractable ladder to climb up to the midship hatch. He followed the pilot toward the compartment at the front of the ship, only to stop in surprise at the sight of someone he didn’t recognize in the second chair. He tilted his head and said, “Hello.” It came off sounding like the question it was.
Cia laughed as she maneuvered into the left-hand seat. “Copilot for this trip, and the only other person I trust to fly my girl. This is Trianna.” The unexpected woman was older than her, probably his age. She had brown skin that glowed with health, dark black hair that fell in spirals to the middle of her back, and from the profile visible as she turned slightly and nodded in his direction, a pointed nose, sharp cheekbones, and at least one dark eye. What she didn’t have was a desire to speak to him, as she returned her gaze to her instruments without further engagement. She was dressed in the all-black standard uniform of an Academy student and spoke almost inaudibly to the control tower.
Jax looked at Cia, and she grinned at him. “No, you haven’t lost your status, don’t let your masculinity get bruised. We’re switching ships along the way, and there was no chance that I’d leave my Grace sitting out in the middle of nowhere on autopilot. Trianna will watch over her and, if needed, come in and rescue us, too.”
He nodded. “She doesn’t talk much.”
Again, the pilot barked a laugh. “She’s not as nice as I am. You’ll have to convince her you’re not as enormous a chucklehead as you appear to be before she’ll invest any time in you.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll head to the back and make sure everyone’s strapped in, then, shall I?”
“Good plan. Looking like about five minutes until we’re on the runway.” The Grace could take off and land the same as a terrestrial airplane, which allowed it to use the small airfield near the Academy that lacked a VTOL rating. Something about the depth of the concrete. She’d explained it once, but he’d put it in the part of his mind where things he didn’t need to remember went. He turned and headed for the rear of the ship.
It wasn’t the biggest vessel, and since they had no particular reason to be hanging out in engineering or the cargo bay, and hopefully no cause for anyone to be in medical already, that left the galley and rec areas on the top deck for those who’d chosen to congregate rather than sleep through the flight. He took the metal stairs two at a time and broke into a smile at the sight of the other three members of his Academy team.
They were playing cards around the dining table, some sort of game that involved fast draws and discards and the clink of metallic chips slapping against the magnetized surface. Ethan Kimmel was nearest, the youngest of their team except for Cia. The piercings in his ears and right eyebrow added to his youthful look, as did the shock of blond hair that fell over one side of his face. The rest of his head was close-shorn, almost down to his overly pale skin.
Clockwise from him was Maria Verrand, dark of skin, eye, and hair. The latter was in thin braids today, rather than the long thick one she normally preferred, and gathered together in a tie at the nape of her neck. Even in loose clothing, her strong muscles were evident with each shift of her body.
Anton Sirenno, tanned and freckled, held the last position. Something always looked off about the man, as if he’d been put together from parts that didn’t quite align properly. Large ears, a slightly small nose, and the classic square jaw sat uncomfortably with one another. However, his sarcastic personality and deep confidence made his looks mostly irrelevant. He looked up at Jax’s entrance and called, “Hey, sit in for a hand.”
Jax stopped beside the table and frowned down at them. “What the hell are you playing?”
“Quickstop,” Kimmel explained. “The cards keep moving until someone gets a pair. They slam it down, and whoever else has one of those cards lays it on the table. Pairs are worth twice as much, and you bet each time one goes down. The game ends when the last pair drops. It’s fun once you get the hang of it. Just an honor round, no money involved. Take a seat.”
Jax shook his head. “I’ll take a seat, but it won’t be here. We’re lifting off soon. Time to strap in.” They didn’t react with as much panic as they had the first time he’d said that to them, during his last visit to the Academy, but they still moved with speed. Kimmel packed the cards, Sirenno deactivated the table and swept the chips into a box, and Verrand walked a circle around the room to make sure that nothing was out of place that might become a missile when the ship accelerated.
He nodded in approval, then followed them as they headed to their quarters to buckle in. He called up the view from the bow camera on his wrist comm and watched as they took off, wishing he was up in the front with Cia. Co-piloting with her was the only time he’d gotten the feel of flying firsthand. Usually, he was trapped back in a passenger compartment of one kind or another, all too frequently as a prelude to jumping out of it into space, atmosphere, or both.
The launch was as smooth as high-end whiskey after a long day, and the announcement that they were free to move around for a while as the ship moved to its jump point came at the expected moment. He made his way back to the galley, arriving just after Cia and with Kimmel on his heels.
Jax said, “Okay, have you been briefed on our objective?”
The others offered sounds of negation and ridicule, and Cia replied, “Of course not. That’s not how the Academy works. How about you?”
He grinned. “Well, well, well, suddenly I’m the one in the know. What a glorious feeling.” After rolling his eyes, he continued, “Let’s see if we can put the pieces together. We’re going to a Confederacy world to break into a government building and retrieve something.”
Sirenno asked, “What are we after?”
Jax shrugged. “Apparently, we don’t yet need that information, unless someone else has been told?” No one answered. “Okay, that’s me. Cia, how about you?”
She crossed her arms and imitated his tone. “Well, well, well, it appears that I do know more than you, as usual, although it’s not much. We’re heading to a neutral point for a ship change, then continuing to Ezora. We’ll land at the main spaceport and meet a local contact of some kind in the city. They’ll be waiting for us.”
Verrand added, “I was told that there will be some solid security involved in whatever we’re doing.”
Kimmel nodded. “Me too. I have some extra hacking tools with me.”
Sirenno laughed darkly. “All the instruction I received was to get on the ship, and all would be revealed.”
Cia grinned widely. “Now that sounds like the Professor we all adore.”
Jax sighed. “I’m usually on the other side of the need-to-know equation. It’s not as much fun from this perspective.” Cia gave him a pointed look, and he tapped his hand lightly on his chest to acknowledge the touch. He’d deeply offended her by not sharing information during their last mission, and while she’d forgiven him, more or less, he was still on what she’d called a “Prove it probation.”
He clapped his hands. “Okay, as my commanding officer likes to say, when you have nothing else to do, train. Who’s up for some hand-to-hand?”
The training session lasted until they needed to secure for the jump to their waypoint. Afterward, he and the rest of the non-pilots watched a display in the galley that showed their approach to a small moon in an otherwise dead system. The ship landed beside another, smaller by about a third. Kimmel observed, “That doesn’t look like it’s going to be a comfortable home.” The others agreed, and when they passed through the temporar
y tube connecting airlocks, Jax was forced to admit they had a point.
They’d entered via the midship hatch, and a few steps inside revealed that it was definitely light on creature comforts. A wide central corridor stretched the entire length of the ship, showing the pilot compartment to the front and a cargo compartment to the rear. Doors were set into the passageway at intervals, which he hoped led to less dilapidated-looking rooms than their entry area. “What scrapyard did the Professor pick this up at?”
Cia laughed. “That’s not far from the truth. She’s been rebuilt from parts of a bunch of other ships and christened the Jigsaw. Some folks from home have been seeding disinformation about the ship and her crew since we acquired her almost a year ago. She has more power than you’d think, strong shields, and a turret that packs more of a wallop than it strictly should.”
Sirenno asked, “How does that happen?”
She shrugged. “They get all kinds at the Academy, right? Some folks were apparently good at modifying weapons. Now, I’m going to preflight this baby while you all arrange to have the cargo containers on the Grace moved over here. They should be small enough to fit through the tube, but if not, someone will have to take a walk. Don’t forget your tethers, since there’s not much gravity to speak of. Or, if it’s you, Jax, wing it. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Cia gave him a sweet smile and headed forward.
Jax shook his head and pointed at Sirenno. “You’re with me. Let’s get the stuff. You two, go ahead and figure out where the important things are, and find out if the turret is automatic or run by an operator. If it’s the latter, you can draw straws to decide who gets to shoot it.”
