by Jenn Burke
“It’s not my fault, is it? Because I left?”
“Oh, Fix. No. It’s not your fault.”
A not-so-subtle throat-clearing saved Felix from having to make any sort of sensible response. Marnie stood in the doorway, giving him the speculative eye. “If anything, it’s my fault.” He arched a brow at her, surprised by her willingness to take on a burden he considered his. “We antagonized the AEF at Petrel Station.”
“I’m the one who stunned their people,” he said.
“I’m the one who decided we needed to run in there and get Dieter.”
Nessa broke in. “We all voted to be a part of that action. And if we hadn’t been here, Dieter might have been captured, or worse.”
“Regrets aren’t going to get Zed out of the hands of the AEF,” Felix said.
“No, they won’t,” Marnie agreed. “We’re approaching Bosun. Ready to roll?”
“What’s at Bosun?” Felix tried to place the name and couldn’t. Last he remembered they were traveling to Balmoral System. Were they there yet?
“Dieter’s asteroid.” Perhaps sensing his internal confabulation, Marnie added, “We’re in Balmoral.”
“Have we scooped enough gas to leave?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then we’re going to Alpha.” Felix tapped his bracelet. “Qek?”
“Yes, Fixer?”
“Set—”
Marnie’s finger swiped through the holo interface, closing the connection.
“What the hell?”
“We can’t take Dieter to Alpha.”
The words “why not” clogged his throat as the passage closed. Felix knew why not and the argument between sense and sensibility was going to kill him. If his rising anger didn’t get him first. His breath shortened and his vision swam with red.
Before he could explode, Marnie gripped his arm. “Felix.” He shook her off, but she persisted, saying his name again.
“Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down,” he warned, voice thin and strained.
“I won’t. But you’re not going to like what I do have to say.”
With a glare, he dared her to spill it anyway.
“Zed isn’t on Alpha. When they arrested him, they took him off the station.”
“Then where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
* * *
Bosun was a broken moon—what amounted to an asteroid field that had settled into a stable orbit around the largest planet in the Balmoral system. Apparently Dieter’s asteroid—he called it Morrison—lay somewhere just off center.
“This field is playing havoc with our sensors,” Felix said, poking the copilot’s console.
“Are you using lidar or radar?” Marnie asked from behind him. Dieter’s hover chair was wedged in beside her, making the bridge somewhat crowded.
“We have configured our sensors to optimize both technologies, strengthening the gain of that which proves more appropriate or efficient,” Qek said.
“Nice.” Marnie nudged the back of Felix’s shoulder. “You still got it, Fl—Fix.”
“Fixer has reprogramed nearly every system on this ship. With my help, of course.”
Felix grunted. “Stay modest, Qek.” He sideswiped a holo. “Do we have coordinates or are you going to let me waste time looking for this rock? I want to be here and gone.”
A nicer person would have glanced over their shoulder, reassured their passenger with something banal like, “No offense, buddy.”
Dieter spoke in his own defense. “Think of Bosun as a strategic relay point. I’ve got a pressurized dock with atmospheric control. Workshops and labs. While we search for Zed, we can add a few bells and whistles to your ride. Upgrade your comm so you don’t have to ask permission to access jazers. And Marnie mentioned your shields could use some tweaking.”
Felix didn’t want to admit the man made sense, but, fuck it, he did. Especially as they still had no word on where Zed was being held.
Apparently not trusting him to arrive at that conclusion, however, Marnie said, “Zed’s arrest is all over the news. The AEF can’t just disappear him. They will need to conduct a very public trial and you can bet the Anatolius Industries lawyers are already all over it. We’ve got time. To find him and coordinate with his family. To make sure the Chaos is ready to intercede if necessary.”
Grumbling, Felix tried to pluck a shred of faith from Marnie’s assurances. He failed miserably. “Let’s just get moving, okay?”
Coordinates splashed across his display, sent by Dieter.
“The debris field extends one thousand kilometers from our targeted asteroid,” Qek said, studying the map. “Is there an approach you would recommend?”
“Sending that now,” Dieter said. “Won’t be a smooth ride in, but there is a sort of path...here, and here.” Points flashed across the star map, quickly falling into two three-dimensional paths.
“Fixer, would you take us in?”
Felix glanced over at the pilot. “You’re sure?” Anticipation of the challenge kicked a surge of adrenaline to his fingers and toes. He used to live for moments such as these, pitting wit and skill against an impossible course.
“You’re better at quick course corrections than I am.”
Meaning Felix didn’t rely on the onboard navigation as much as Qek did, which was fine in the black—not so great in j-space.
“Okay.”
Quickly and quietly, Felix fell into his own zone, one achieved not through some secret program but simply developed out of necessity. After a moment’s surprise that he could still reach a state of uninterrupted reasoning, he began to work—fingers flying across his console, displays flashing up and down, skimming across the star chart as he moved and realigned them. Calculations unfolded across his mind’s eye and he entered minute adjustments into their flight path, taking into account the drag that shouldn’t exist in a vacuum. The exhaust from their craft shifted particles that ran into particles, though, and the outer edge of their shielding nudged more than dust aside.
Qek preferred to have a view of space outside the ship. Felix felt rather than saw the larger pieces of debris tumble past the view ports. He knew that if he looked up, he’d lose his perspective. When he did look up at last, their target loomed large, filling the view screens from end to end.
“Docking?”
A new set of coordinates unfolded across his display, and Felix immediately began his calculations, not waiting for Qek to engage the automatic sequences. A moment later, the Chaos danced nimbly to his touch, turning almost back on herself in order to duck “under” the asteroid. The view never changed, or not perceptibly. Rock filled every port, regardless of “up” or “down” until Felix input the final directives to turn the Chaos out from the asteroid so they could slide backward into the docking cave. Space doors irised open behind them, the view on his display. He barely glanced at it, relying instead on sensor pings. Then the doors shut, sealing the corvette in a dim chamber lit by a docking path, above and below. The lights glowed more brightly as the atmosphere exchangers pressurized the bay. Felix concentrated on locking the Chaos to one side of the solitary pier.
When he looked up again, they were locked, and external readings indicated the large chamber had an atmosphere. Felix breathed out, and for the first time in days his thoughts didn’t scatter. His fingers had lost their tremble. His chest didn’t ache—until he thought about it, then a twinge shot down through his center, but not to linger. He felt purposeful. Useful. Not quite as broken.
Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Marnie’s eye and saw she knew it, too. That subtle shift in perspective. Rather than acknowledge it, he turned away. The small bubble of peace he’d found stayed with him, though, even as he acknowledged it wouldn’t last.
Chapter Thi
rteen
They started with the “we’re all friends here, just talk to us” attitude. Zed had never been called on to fill the role of galactic cop, as some AEF officers did, but he’d had the training on how to conduct interrogations. What they tossed at him was textbook good cop/bad cop.
Just help us and we’ll make sure you’re back on Alpha in no time.
Goddamn it, Anatolius, man up and accept the consequences.
All I need is just a bit of information and I can get you the water you asked for.
Tell us the truth! Where is Dieter Sorge?
Don’t you want to do the right thing, Major Anatolius?
It was all bullshit. Zed had known when Bradley’s grunts had slapped the cuffs on, that was it. In their eyes, he’d violated the terms of his release from service, and that was what they’d announce publicly, lack of evidence or no. They’d paint him to be a traitor, selling AEF secrets to that asshole reporter, conveniently ignoring the millions of credits in his account and his total lack of need to earn more.
And yes, the AEF might be beyond pissed that the secrets of the project got leaked, but that was only an excuse. The real issue here was that he wasn’t dead, and that was a fucking massive inconvenience for the AEF. They wanted all evidence of their experiments gone—but first, they wanted to know how he was still alive.
Zed refused to talk. He’d been trained to be on this side of the table. It was tempting to recite only his name, rank and serial number, but he settled instead for just keeping his mouth shut. He trusted Brennan—he knew his brother would be working his ass off to get him out of here, even if every effort was accompanied by cursing Zed’s name. He’d come through.
“Last time, Mr. Anatolius.” The good cop sighed. They’d dropped the “major” from in front of his name a while back. Zed wasn’t sure if it was an insult or not. “What treatment did you undergo on Ashushk Prime? What information did you share with them?”
Zed just stared at them.
“Fucking waste of time,” the bad cop muttered. He rose from his seat, stretching out the vertebrae in his back. “Maybe we should pick up what’s-his-name, your boyfriend. Ingesson.”
Zed tried to keep his face impassive but he couldn’t quite manage it. His brows lowered and his jaw tightened.
“Oh, now, that got a reaction.” The bad cop grinned. “We could charge him with aiding and abetting. How’d you like that?”
“I don’t think we need to bring Ingesson in,” Good Cop said, his tone reasonable. “That’s going a little far.”
“No, what’s going a little far is this asshole selling secrets to a reporter.” Bad Cop moved around the table and kicked at the leg of Zed’s chair. “And telling the ashies all sorts of classified shit. Do you not understand the importance of security clearance, Mr. Anatolius? Galactic secrecy?”
God, he wanted to tell Bad Cop exactly what he could expect if they brought in Flick. But even the slight reaction he’d already given was ammunition enough. He stared at Bad Cop, trying to keep his face impassive even as emotions roiled behind his mask. If they kept poking at him about Flick, he wasn’t going to be held responsible for his reaction.
Goddamn it, Bren. Work faster.
* * *
Felix ground his teeth until he tasted dust. Still, he couldn’t swallow the curses piling up on the back of his tongue. “Shit and triple shit!”
“What happened to double shit?”
Felix shot Elias a look. Now is not the time. Then again, now could be the time because he’d been holed up in the bridge of the Chaos for untold hours—at least two if the creak of his joints measured time with any accuracy. If he didn’t take a break soon, he was likely to do more harm than good to the communication array. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to tinker, and the upgrade hadn’t consumed him as he had hoped it might. Stopping work to listen in on chatter every fifteen minutes hadn’t helped his progress, either. So far, there had been no useful word from Alpha or Ryan, though, unless you believed in the bullshit of no news being good news.
He unfolded his legs, winced as blood burned a path down the back of his calves, and leaned over the console he’d been cursing to wait for the inevitable dizzy spell.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Did you come in here just to hassle me?” He’d give Elias another look, but black spots were dancing in front of his eyes.
“Sure, why not?” Elias’s voice moved closer. “C’mon, a break will shake something loose. Then you can come back in here and sleep with the comm array if you need to.”
“What time is it?”
“Dinnertime and Ness cooked.”
“Cooked what? Is there a secret garden inside this rock somewhere?”
“Nope, just a well-stocked dee-hi.” They had a small unit that extracted moisture from food for long-term storage aboard the Chaos but stopped regularly enough that they rarely used it.
As Elias led him back through the ship toward the main cargo bay, Felix realized he’d started following without issuing further complaint. That he immediately began searching for an objection—any objection—depressed him. Had he always been such an asshole? He turned his thoughts toward his crew. “How is everyone, um, doing?”
Elias glanced over his shoulder, surprise evident in the widening of his eyes. “Did you just take your head out of your ass for a second?”
“Maybe. Want to record the moment?”
“I probably should.”
Felix snorted. “No one will believe you otherwise, right?”
“You know, you’re not as broken as you pretend to be.”
“What does that mean?” They’d reached Cargo One and his voice echoed in the empty chamber.
“It means that you’re still here, still kicking, and when you remember that, you’re a lot easier to be around.”
“And here I thought y’all had left me alone on the bridge because you could use a break.”
“Not going to deny that.” A familiar grin flashed across Elias’s face. “We were sort of hoping you’d figure out the communication upgrade too.”
“Working on it.” When not listening for news. “If Marnie had given me a board and some code even a year ago, I might have been able to slot it in, no hassles.” Felix gripped his nape and the ache nudging the back of his skull eased somewhat. “I’ve implemented so many side grades between now and then that it’s just going to be easier to uninstall the comm system software and upload a new copy.”
“Side grades?”
Being able to activate comms throughout the ship, one way, so he could eavesdrop. Shit like that. Did Elias suspect...? Felix shrugged away the thought. “The panels in our quarters shouldn’t hiss when someone flushes the forward head when I’m done.”
“Good to know.”
The much larger space of the asteroid docking bay muted the sound of their voices, and as they crossed into the corridor leading directly to the living quarters, Felix fell easily into chatter with Elias. A weird calm enveloped him, despite the urgency that formed the pulse of his days—of every hour spent apart from Zed, of every minute Zed spent in the custody of the AEF. The guilt that poked constantly softened, just a touch. The loud and bitter recrimination that filled his thoughts quieted. He might almost be his regular old self, except for that blank space in his chest.
He’d been given a tour of the asteroid when they’d arrived twelve hours ago. The place was well appointed, as far as hollowed-out rocks went. If they succeeded in rounding up the remaining members of Project Dreamweaver, it would make a great hideout. Plenty of small apartments, a well-equipped central kitchen, med bay and laboratory, several workshops and a number of empty spaces that could be turned to any purpose with a few judicious credits.
He followed Elias into the dining hall adjacent to the kitchen.
Dieter and Qek glanced up from overlapping holo displays.
“Captain Sorge has a shield upgrade routine that might be compatible with our forward array,” Qek said.
“What about the back half of the ship?” Elias asked.
“Assuming you’re not planning on entering a combat situation, the rear emitters can be upgraded with this scramble tech a friend and I were playing with before I was drafted for Dreamweaver,” Dieter said.
“The Chaos doesn’t have any onboard armaments. So, no, we’re not planning on entering any combat situations.” Elias had started out addressing Dieter, but by the time he finished speaking he was looking at Felix.
Felix scowled.
The scent of food wafted into the room. Nessa followed, bearing a tray. Felix stepped up to help her steady her load—six bowls of something hot and steamy—and she flashed him a quick smile. Felix had just set the tray down when Marnie entered the dining hall from the opposite direction, wrist out, holo flickering overtop. “I just heard from Ryan.”
Fucking typical. The minute he’d walked away from the comm array, the call had come through. “What’s the news?”
The serious cast of her features indicated it wasn’t good, as in the AEF had not released him with an apology and a pat on the head.
“Zed’s aboard the Cambridge.”
“That’s...” Not bad news, unless you counted Zed being incarcerated aboard the most secure drift in the galaxy as bad. Felix’s mind went blank, then rebooted with several questions that demanded answers all at once. “Where is the Cambridge? Can Ryan get to him? Is his location public—”
“Whoa, slow down. The Cambridge is in Sol. Out past Jupiter’s orbit, apparently. They probably took him straight there. No, his location has not been disclosed, which is why this comm from Ryan is so important.”
“The Cambridge is in Sol?” Felix pushed back up out of his chair. “Then we have to go back there.”
“Sit back down before you fall down. Eat something and we’ll start planning what we’re going to do.”
We. Right, he was part of a crew. He’d used the same we seconds earlier, but now the word echoed in the back of his brain. What if he changed it to an I? I need to equip those shield upgrades and then I need to get the fuck off this rock. Would it count as theft if he stole his own ship?
