Mary, I remember being this positive the universe revolved around me. Sadly, I wasn't twelve at the time.

"Hi, Sasha, how are you?" I grin at him.

"Hi, fine, can we resolve this please?" He's getting some attitude, and he wears it well. I like cocky in a kid. Makes him seem less fragile.

"Are you acting as his emissary?"

"His what?" He frowns, which is kind of cute. "Do you mean, did he send me?"

"Yeah."

"No, he doesn't know I came looking for you. I'm supposed to be practicing."

"TK?"

"I'm so sick of it." He sounds bummed.

Not wanting to discuss my personal life with a kid, I try to change the subject. "Do you miss the kids at your school?"

"Some. Hey, don't distract me. You have to talk to my dad, okay? Please?"

Apparently, I'm a soft touch when a kid gazes at me with soulful eyes and offers the magic word. "Will you work on your exercises if I promise to find March?"

He puts out a hand. "Deal."

Stifling a sigh, I take it. Then Sasha runs off. I touch my comm. "Where's March?"

"In the barracks, Sirantha Jax." Constance still hasn't stopped calling me by my full name. I'm sure she does it just to screw with me. Some days, in fact, I suspect she downloaded special software that lets her approximate a sense of humor, messing with people using some kind of sophisticated algorithm.

"Thanks."

No time like the present. I jog toward the barracks, lifting a hand now and then to the La'hengrin. We have to increase our numbers-and that's the next step. There's no mass delivery system that permits personal choice, so it'll take a while. Fortunately, there's no deadline for saving the world.

I arrive outside the room where March is teaching. Before he spots me, I take cover in the doorway, watching him drill. He's broken them into pairs, as he did in the combat program he ran for the Conglomerate. Memories take me; I remember when I was a soldier under his command. But that's a bittersweet memory, like so many of them.

I wait until the class ends. He talks with a few La'hengrin, his harsh features radiating camaraderie. This is good for him, I think. He needs a purpose.

March spies me as he heads for the door, then draws up short. His features lose that easy air he had with the men, maybe because he doesn't know what to do with me. He's always sure around soldiers; he's got experience with them. From what he told me once, I'm the only woman he's ever loved. The rest, he paid for an hour of their time.

I open strong. "So Sasha bribed me to come talk to you."

"Oh?" Flicker of amusement. "What'd he offer?"

"To do his TK practice."

"You mean he wasn't? Dammit."

"Cut the kid a break. He was worried about you."

March sighs, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Yeah, he's been bugging me to talk to you. I kept telling him you'd come when you were ready."

"Thanks for not pushing," I say softly.

He takes a step toward me. "I didn't mean it like it sounded, Jax. It's not bad that you'll never lose yourself in someone else. It's part of what makes you strong."

He's said that about me before-that I'm the strongest person he's ever met. I tend to think I'm dumb. No matter how many times I get knocked down, I always stagger up again. If I had a brain in my head, sometimes after one of those hits, I'd just kiss dirt a little while. Save myself the pain. But I always find myself on my feet, swinging wide, no matter what.

"I get it. But here's the thing...it's not selfish to make the right choices for me, whatever they might be. If you want a woman who settles down, who'll work that rutabaga farm with you"-smiling, I mention the offer he made me so long ago-"well, I'm not her. I never will be. And I won't feel guilty over it, either."

"I don't expect you to. I am sorry, Jax."

I nod. "Forgiven. Let's spend our last few days together, okay?"

When March arches a brow, I realize he doesn't know. It's up to me to tell him. "I'm shipping out soon."

CHAPTER 16.

March takes the news better than I expected...and we don't waste our remaining days. That's all I'm saying. Beyond the time we spend in my quarters, he trains the men and works with Sasha. He's prone to making the best of any situation, and I think, deep down, he's glad to be involved, even peripherally.

Zeeka teases me about our quiet nights on the way to the final briefing. "You're looking happy. Vermilion, even."

Mareq throats flush when they're excited, as I recall. So I think he's saying I have a satisfied glow...or something like that. I cast him a slantways look. "Please don't."

"I think it's awesome."

Mary, no. I can stand anything, today, but the sex-related speculation of my once-foster son who is also a sentient frog. Some days...By some miracle, Vel comes along to save me because Zeeka is still too awed by him to joke around in his presence. He thinks that Vel is the epitome of greatness...and well, he is.

The three of us walk to the hall, which is the only room in the base large enough for us to meet simultaneously. Even though our numbers will certainly increase, the body of the army will not be present here. They'll be in the field, assaulting various soft, lightly guarded installations. The plan of attack has been diagrammed to a decimal point. Now we just have to execute.

Which will be tougher.

"I haven't seen much of you lately." Not since we made the nocturnal run to extract March and Sasha from the house.

"It seemed best to give you some space."

That's enough unlike Vel that I frown. "Why?"

"You and March have been apart. There will be growing pains as you remember how to be a unit again."

"True enough. We've been fighting."

Vel inclines his head. "I am aware. But Sasha is excellent company for an unfinished human."

That makes me laugh. "Yeah, he's better than he was last time. Are you and I all right, though?"

"Why would we not be?" Genuine puzzlement flexes his mandible.

Once more, I've made the mistake of imbuing Vel with human motivations. He's not jealous of March or threatened, or anything that a human male might be, placed in his complicated relationship with me. But for him, it's not difficult at all. He's my friend...and he's content to wait. He's still mourning Adele; that will go on for turns, quietly and deeply.

I make up my mind not to worry about it again. There are enough real problems on the ground that I don't need to invent them. Zeeka, Vel, and I take seats near the back of the room. A few minutes later, Loras enters, with Constance beside him. Likely she's helped him organize this final presentation. He spends nearly an hour going over the plan, then he calls out the breakdown of personnel.

"Are we all clear on our assignments?" Loras asks.

My gaze roves the room, finding a few familiar faces, and then I nod. Others murmur their assent. We can't start a war with our small force holed up inside a mountain. Some of us have to take the fight to the enemy.

Therefore, we're splitting up. A small team-including Zhan, Constance, March, and Sasha-will remain at base, facilitating communication and ops. The rest of us will divide into cells comprised of ten soldiers. While it's possible that one of us might break and betray the base-camp location, that won't destroy the war effort because there will be so many of us in the field, and the rest won't know where we are or what we're planning.

Loras has been studying the most successful guerilla generals throughout the history of several species, and he's memorized the tenets as though they were the phonetics of a new language. He speaks of nothing but strategy and quotes ancient figures as dinner conversation: The enemy advances, we retreat; the enemy camps, we harass; the enemy tires, we attack; the enemy retreats, we pursue.

Over the hum of muted voices, he orders, "Break into your units."

Since I'm standing with two of my cell and we're easy to spot, I remain where I am. Loras comes over to join us; soon, the others find us. My cell consists of Vel, Zeeka, Loras, and six La'hengrin I don't know well. That'll change over the course of the assignment. I'm looking forward to some action, even if it's risky and against impossible odds. Maybe especially in that case because the danger makes it more interesting, more like jumping.

In addition to ops management and R&D, Constance will also tutor Sasha. He's not thrilled about hiding, but then, he's twelve. He doesn't get to fight. March will have his hands full, dealing with a disappointed kid with incredible TK power. Hopefully, he won't shake down the mountain while we're gone.

"That's all," Loras calls.

He was the first to receive-and survive-Carvati's Cure. This is his cause. I'm backing his play because he's my friend, I owe him, and this is the right thing to do: three compelling reasons to kick some ass. Once the squad members depart, heading to their missions in groups of ten, I turn to Loras.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

It's a big question for three words. He gets that...and takes his time replying. "I'm not sure anyone can ever be prepared for such an immense undertaking. But it's time."

"We're meeting the others in the docking bay at 20:30?"

He nods. "Vel is making some last-minute adjustments to the shuttle."

We're lucky; we get the ship with all the bells and whistles. The other cells all have transportation, but not like ours. While Vel and I have deep pockets, we don't possess unlimited resources. And there are other purchases to be made. Floating mines for the air lanes, weapons, armor, rations, field kits, and the list goes on. I'm tired just thinking about it.

And we've only just begun.

"I'd better get my bag and say my good-byes. We won't be back for a while."

If ever.

That part goes without saying. But Loras understands the stakes, just as I do. I've never fought a ground war before. The centurions have; they're all experienced mercs, having put in their time on Nicu Tertius. On the plus side, by the time they earn the right to serve on a cushy colony like La'heng, they're all getting on in turns, and they've been out of the field a while. So that's an asset; it'll be up to us to exploit it properly.

I head for my quarters, don my set of camo armor, and grab my kit. Next, I strap on my weapons: laser pistol on my hip, shock-stick on the other side, and a field knife strapped to my thigh. One last time, I check my equipment.

Constance is working in comms when I find her. Some might find it odd that I'd look for my PA, who-on the surface-is little more than a VI, but I don't think of her that way. However humble her beginnings, she's a person to me.

"Look after March and Sasha for me," I say softly.

She turns, her face set in solemn lines. "I will, Sirantha Jax. And you take care of yourself for me."

"I'm not the one you should worry about."

"Nevertheless, you will do as I instruct." She even sounds like a mom.

"I wouldn't dare do otherwise."

Then, to my surprise, she hugs me. Constance doesn't feel like a machine, all gears and rotors beneath the bioware. I huff out a choky breath and stand there imagining this is what it would be like to have a mother who worried instead of conducting illegal arms deals. Eventually, she steps back, hands on my shoulders.

"Did I do it correctly?"

I arch a brow. "What?"

"Display warmth and concern?"

It would be more effective if she hadn't questioned her mastery of the concepts, but I nod. "It was perfect. Thank you, Constance."

"You are welcome."

"Do you know where March is?"

She jacks into the computer with a touch of her fingertip, what a marvelous wireless interface. After a few seconds scanning the vid feeds, she replies, "In your quarters, Sirantha Jax. Shall I tell him to wait?"

"Please."

He must have come looking for me, and I just missed him as I headed to comms. This time, I don't run. In fact, I can barely put one foot after another, knowing what's waiting for me at the other end. I want him fighting beside me but he can't. He's all Sasha has. Being stuck here doesn't change that.

I don't know if I can say good-bye to March under these circumstances. He's never had to send me off to war like this; I don't know how he'll handle it. When battle looms, it's usually him leaving me. The time I took off during the Morgut War, I sneaked off while he was asleep.

"Jax." He steps into the hall to greet me as I arrive.

"I'm leaving soon."

March fills my head with warmth and aching regret. He wants to don armor and join the battle. The soldier in him is sick to his soul that he has to be a father instead of a warrior. I've never seen him in such desperate conflict with himself. Tears glisten in his hawk's eyes, shining molten gold. He blinks, so that the dampness tangles his long lashes. Not a single droplet falls. I can feel him swallow it back until it becomes a knot in his stomach to match the one in mine.

"I wish you weren't stuck here," I whisper.

"It's worse," he says, closing his eyes. "If I were far away, on Nicuan, I could pretend it wasn't happening. But here, I feel so helpless. I want to come with you."

"You can't."

"I know."

He hauls me into his arms so I can feel him shaking, or maybe that's me. We kiss; and it's salty, bittersweet, heat preceding the ice of separation. Our love is chased by endless farewells, like a sweet shot of liqueur with bitters at the bottom.

I don't say good-bye to him. Once we break apart, I just turn and move in the opposite direction. He's in my head until the distance grows too great. As he slips away, I hear, Stay safe, my love.