Endgame by Ann Aguirre Page B

only Mareq ever to venture off world. Z says it was his destiny, and that if we hadn’t come, someone else would have. Maybe somebody who wouldn’t have felt guilty enough to give him a second chance. Cloning is a tricky business. It’s not like he’s the same person that the original Baby-Z would have been, but he has identical DNA, and he had the same environmental markers. To
his
mind, he is the same person, reborn, and I don’t feel qualified to argue.
    Doc would have, I suspect.
    I miss him. Along with Rose and Evie. If Mother Mary has a sense of humor, they’re all together in the afterlife, and Doc has some explaining to do. What I wouldn’t give to hear it, too. But it’s not my time, and if the nanites have anything to say about it, I’ll have many turns before my body wears out. Vel’s remarkably cheerful about that. I suppose I would be, too, if I’d lost as many friends as he has.
    “Morning,” I reply.
    “I heard you’re going back to the city with Vel. Complications?”
    “You could say that.” I fill him in as he eats, explaining how the first choice was a no-go, and we’ve had to make do with the second centurion.
    “Have you scouted a location where you can watch over him?” Z asks.
    Unlike Vel, he has a modern vocalizer, which translates with less formality. It makes him more approachable, I think. Less intimidating. Plus, it’s hard to be frightened of anyone with such liquid eyes. Zeeka radiates innocence; by looking at him, you’d never guess that he laid the charges that took down an Imperial installation last night.
    “No, all our intel and preparation was for the first target. But I’ll figure it out when I see where the guy lives.”
    It was an unfortunate turn of luck that resulted in the first centurion’s having gotten married since we observed him last. Nothing in his behavior led us to believe a happy event was imminent. The man got up, went to work, and socialized little. From a distance, he seemed like the perfect choice, down to the correct build.
    Because I can’t help myself, I add, “You don’t have to be here, you know. You’re qualified to jump on your own, now.”
    Z laughs. “Grimspace isn’t going anywhere, Jax.”
    I accept that as truth. How amazing; he has the skill set without any hint of addiction. Since I’ve never raised a Mareq, I don’t know if I should insist on pushing him out of the nest, so to speak. He’s so eager to learn—and to help—that I’m unwilling to crush that spark. I can’t tell him,
Get lost, kid. We don’t need you.
    We do. Or the La’heng Liberation Army does. At this point, we’re so few against so many that all are welcome, whatever their species or motivations.

CHAPTER 12
    Things just get more complicated.
    Constance pokes me awake in the middle of the night—not that you can tell what time it is outside the mountain except that we’ve programmed the environment to match planetary cycles. The lights inside the LLA base have a special fuse that compensates for lack of sunlight. Those with skills unsuited to combat will be here a long time, running support on missions, and we had to factor that into the design.
    I sit up, shoving the hair from my eyes, and frown up at her. “What’s wrong?”
    “Urgent message, Sirantha Jax.”
    What the hell…nobody has the codes here. This can’t be good. I sit up.
    “Do I need to—”
    “No, I recorded and downloaded to my internal systems.”
    Even with that warning, it’s still a fragging terrible shock for March’s voice to come out of Constance’s mouth. I stare, unable to believe what I’m hearing.
    He’s too smart to identify himself, but it’s definitely him. “We…missed our flight. It’s complicated. I’ll explain when I see you. Now the spaceport’s locked down. I went back tothe house, but you’ve already vacated. I need to get Sasha someplace safe. Come when you get this. We’re not going anywhere.”
    “How did this come in?” I