Read Killbox (2010) for Free Online Page B

wrong with making it homier. Sirina won't be old enough to survive a jump with her brain intact for a while yet, and we don't have toddler protective gear on board.
    Surge answers our first call within seconds. "You made good time. I'll open the docking-bay doors for you."
    In a larger vessel like this one, the long haul doesn't bother me as much. There's more to do on board, and of course, I keep busy with Argus. He's going to be good someday; I can already tell that much. The kid has great instincts, and I'll add in the additional factor of navigating the right beacons when we get a little further along.
    At this point I'm just keeping March company. There's no reason for me to be in the cockpit, which is three times bigger than I'm used to. This ship will be great for testing the apprenticeship. There's room in here for an extra chair, which could be used for a trainee pilot or jumper. We'd just need an extra jack.
    "Standing by," March tells him.
    I imagine the clunk of metal as the massive door rolls back, then he guides the ship smoothly through the gap. Even the bay area has been renovated to some degree. Last time we were here, this station looked on the verge of going derelict; but they've deployed bots to sand away the worst of the rust from years of spillage and coated the metal with fresh sealant. The ship sets down, taking up almost the entire compartment.
    "Good work," Surge says. "You didn't even scratch the paint."
    March smiles, and it does something to my heart to see the light in his eyes. Oh, he's not healed completely. The war he fought on Lachion--up close and personal--nearly cost him his soul. He came back to me broken almost beyond repair and ready to take up his old life as a merciless killer. Lucky for him, I don't give up easy. His complete recovery will take time, of course, and he'll have fresh emotional scars, but he's on the path. He can laugh now, at least, and stand to be touched again. For my credits, that's worth everything.
    He taps a panel and switches from outbound comm to shipwide announcement. "We've arrived at Emry Station. Any crewman who wishes to disembark for R and R may do so. There's not much to do here, but you're welcome to it."
    I hear laughter in the corridor beyond, greeting his words. For the first time, I realize I'm serving on a ship where everyone present volunteered. Nobody was drafted, assigned, or picked from a pool, and there's a camaraderie present like nothing I've ever known before.
    "Ready to go?" I ask him.
    March nods. "Let's locate our crew."
    He doesn't need to tell me he means Dina, Hit, Doc, and Vel. Argus might tag along, and so might Rose, but they don't comprise the core of us. They haven't come through fire with us and emerged whole on the other side.
    Things have been cool between Doc and me after the way I threatened him on Ithiss-Tor. The fact that he didn't have to do what I asked doesn't change the fact that I asked it. I know what I did--and for March I'd do a whole lot worse. I'm not sure if I should apologize for that.
    We step into the hallway, and March shakes hands and pats shoulders in passing. They're mostly clansmen who wanted to see a little of the universe before settling down on Lachion. Right now they seem so young, full of conviction in their own immortality. And they scare the shit out of me.
    They don't realize what he suffered for their sake, or how he clawed his way out of hell twice over to keep a promise. To them, he's simply their captain. That's all they need to know, and they'd follow him into the pit if he asked it.
    He catches my expression, and I feel the telltale warmth that says he's reading me. I don't even mind anymore. Once you get used to it, there's a certain comfort in not having to explain yourself.
    "Don't," he says quietly. "I'm no hero."
    I smile. He really has no idea.
    "You are to them."
    What is it they say? History is writ by the victors, and in the legends of Lachion, March will be known as their crown