by Jenn Burke
He rushed toward the forward access. With his old glove crushed beyond repair, he’d figured out how to climb the almost vertical stair one-handed. Still, in his haste he tripped onto the middle deck, catching himself with his bad hand. A dull pain traveled through his arm, following the tendon to his shoulder. Wincing, he stumbled upright and ran through the mess to the aft corridor, where he chased the echo of his footsteps to the cargo bay. The chemical odor of scrubbed metal assailed him as he passed the ramp. Growling, teeth gritted so tight they might crack, he jumped down from the ramp and pushed his way through the clumps of humanity clogging the dock.
He spotted the two dark heads of his companions and made his way toward them. Zed had one arm wrapped around Elias’s shoulders. Still, he lurched as he walked. The blankness of his expression gave him the appearance of a drunk or drugged-out spacer, neither of which meshed with his large, tightly muscled frame. Accordingly, bystanders stepped back and away from the pair.
Moving in beside Zed, Felix got the big man’s other arm over his shoulder and took some of his weight. Elias hissed a quick thanks and jerked his chin toward the ship. Zed merely groaned. His eyes had that flat, unfocused look.
“Agrius?” Felix asked, torn between hoping for an old foe and a new one.
“Yeah,” Elias confirmed. “Six of them.”
“Damn it.”
“Didn’t kill anyone,” Zed slurred.
Elias shot him a warning glance. “Let’s just get to the ship.”
Jaw clenched more tightly, Felix stowed the combination of emotion that struck every time he saw the results of the AEF’s project, what they had done to Zed. Anger, sorrow, aimless guilt. Quietly banked rage. None of that would help Zed. None of it would soothe his headaches, fix his blood chemistry. Halt the deterioration he kept trying so hard to hide.
*
Blue eyes opened, blinked and focused. Tension sliding off his shoulders to land in a heap on the floor, Felix breathed out. “There you are.”
“Here I am.” As always, Zed tried to sit up. As always, he groaned and flopped back onto the med bay bed. His eyes closed and a muscle ticked along his jaw. “How long?”
“Two hours.”
“Are we—”
“We’re in the jump queue.”
“Any sign of pursuit?”
“No. Can you stop being a soldier? For one minute?”
Zed rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes again. His steely gaze roamed the contours of Felix’s face, then lifted to his hair, or lack thereof. “You’re bald.”
Felix ran a hand over his shorter-than-short crop. “Pretty much.”
“Holy fuck. Why are you bald?”
Felix glared at him. “Do you really want the answer to that question?”
The crease appeared between Zed’s brows. He winced, a fold of skin apparently being too much sensation, and then his lips twitched. “Oh…”
“Yeah.” Felix cocked his head. “Next time you Zone and pass out, I’m going to shave your head.”
One dark brow arched. “Seriously? Flick—”
Felix waved him into silence. “I know. Listen, Eli told me what happened. I guess Agrius is pissed about Chloris.”
Zed winced again. “You think?”
The confrontation between the crew of the Chaos and the Agrius cartel was going to continue escalating until they found a permanent solution that didn’t include more bodies. They didn’t need a war with Agrius on top of Zed’s issues. Either situation would be a tough course, but both at the same time?
“Fuck.” Felix pushed the heels of his palms over his closed eyelids.
Fingers caressed his cheek. “Hey.”
Felix shook his head, not ready to reveal his expression. He didn’t want Zed to see the pain in his gaze, nor did he want to see the remorse in Zed’s. Holding still, he squashed the urge to go hide in his quarters. He’d taken on Zed’s problems as his own, promised his friend—his best friend and lover—that he’d be here, and he was. But…
Double fuck.
“If it hadn’t been for that stupid InstaShine bot, you wouldn’t even have gone to the meeting. Hell, Eli—”
“Might have more than a sore shoulder from helping me limp back. You could be the one lying on this cot.”
“Damn it.” Felix looked up. “That’s…I…” He trailed off into an inarticulate growl, teeth grinding together for the tenth time that day.
Zed’s hand cupped his jaw. “You’re going to crack your molars.”
“I’ll get them replaced.”
“I’m not going to say I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to, I just want…” Felix waved his hands around in a helpless gesture. “I want not this.”
Zed recovering from another near miss with a seizure. Agrius, they could deal with. Zed’s health wasn’t a simple matter of negotiation.
Neither was Agrius, obviously, but…
Triple fucking fuck.
Zed stroked his cheek again.
“We should talk to Marnie.” Another old friend from their Academy days, she had a position in military intelligence that gave her access to information neither of them even knew existed.
Zed’s eyes flattened, the spark disappearing from the cool blue. “No.”
“She has ways of getting stuff that no one can track. She might be able to help you.”
“No. Subject closed.”
“I’m trying to help!”
Zed shook his head. “Too many people know too much already.”
Felix slumped back in the chair he’d pulled up to the side of the bed. “I’m sick of sitting in this chair feeling useless.” And it had only been a matter of weeks.
“This is the first time I’ve Zoned since Chloris. It’s not a regular thing, okay? And I’m fine. Nessa has exactly the right pain meds.”
“The ones that knock you out for two hours. And what about that shit with the droid? You had a headache earlier today. I know you did. You get this crease—”
“Everyone gets headaches.”
“But not everyone has stin poison running through their veins!”
That’s what Zed’s experimental training had done—shot him full of stin venom. The attempt to unlock the secrets of the aliens’ ability to phase-shift had been successful, but at a terrible cost. Headaches and seizures were just the beginning. It had been a desperate act for a desperate time. Not many people knew how close humanity had come to losing the war with the stin. Zed’s team had changed all that. Their reward? Being forcibly retired by the AEF, told to get lost and lie low.
“Felix, I’m fine. I’m going to be fine.”
Rather than give voice to his gut feelings on that, Felix bit his lips.
Zed sighed and flopped onto his back. “I don’t want to fight with you,” he said, rubbing at his temple. A second later, his broad hand spread across his eyes, as if the striplight was still too bright.
Guilt slashed through Felix’s chest. Zed had just recovered from another head-splitting migraine, but he still probably hurt. And, likely, he was right. If he hadn’t attended the meeting with Elias, the consequences might have been more dire.
Felix forced air from his lungs in a long sigh. He breathed in, and exhaled again. Then he reached over and clasped Zed’s hand, the one covering his face. “This is what we missed out on last time.”
Zed rolled his head back to face him. “Hmm?”
Felix produced a half smile, the tug of it not quite comfortable, but somehow necessary. He squeezed Zed’s fingers. “We’ve never been together long enough to fight.”
“You punched me before the first hour was up last time.”
Felix flapped his bad hand. “You were being a thinky ass, that was different.”
“Not sure I see how.”
“We were younger then.” Less messed up. Less scarred. “Zed…” Felix worked to thrust his worry into one of his mental boxes. He’d wait until Zed didn’t have a headache. Until he had a good day, the
n he’d ask again. Make him understand that if anything happened to him, he’d be leaving a lot more than a pile of dead cartel members behind. “Galaxy was a different place nine years ago,” he murmured.
Zed caught his gaze and held it, and between them, their shared history unraveled. Silently, meaningfully. The near misses of their long relationship, the translation from friends to lovers. The war. Felix being declared MIA only six months in, KIA shortly after that. Zed’s involvement in the AEF’s most desperate bid. And now this—what they’d always wanted, finally handed over with a big fucking codicil.
Lifting one hip, Zed dug into the utility pocket on his thigh and pulled out a small package wrapped in bright red paper. “Here.”
Felix regarded the little box—about two centimeters thick, less than ten square—then looked up. “What’s this?”
“It’s for you.”
Felix reached for the box. It was light and for a moment he suspected Zed had wrapped up nothing as a joke—as a distraction. That would be just like him. Get everyone all worked up and then distract them with…
No, that was more his own style.
He shook the box near his ear.
“It’s not a fucking bomb. Just open it.”
“Why would I think it’s a bomb?”
“Why haven’t you opened it yet?”
He tore at the paper, revealing one corner of the box beneath, and gasped as he recognized the package. It was a new bracelet, a wrist-model wallet and comm to replace the one he’d lost. Same make, latest model.
“These are fucking expensive!” Oh nice, Felix. Beautiful show of gratitude. “I mean…”
“Even if I couldn’t afford it, I’d buy it for you. Want to know why?”
Felix shook his head.
Zed answered anyway. “Because you’d never buy it for yourself. I had to get you new pants before you disgraced your crew and let’s not even get started on the state of your underwear.”
“Seriously?”
Humor and affection had Zed’s eyes twinkling.
Felix looked down at the bracelet and swallowed a little lump in this throat. “Thanks. I…you’re right. I wouldn’t have bought one for myself.”
“You’re welcome.” Humor morphed into mischief. “Now give me a kiss.”
Felix leaned forward to do as he was told. See, he could follow instructions sometimes.
Zed tugged him closer and murmured against his lips. “Ever come right when a ship transitions into j-space?” When stomachs dropped and all internal organs paused function for a brief interval.
A quick thrill of desire shot from his chest to his groin. “Can’t say as I have.” He quirked a brow. “That would take some careful timing.”
Zed’s hand wrapped around the back of his nearly bald head, pulling him in again. “Yep.”
Felix melted into the kiss for a moment, let the taste of Zed, the feel of his lips, feed the hunger inside, then he pulled away, breathless. “Not here. Nessa would have a fit.”
Chuckling, Zed levered himself up. “Then we better head downstairs and make sure everything in engineering is properly stowed for departure.”
Chapter Three
Tapping the corner of the holo display flickering across the tabletop, Elias queued up the next item on the meeting agenda. The Chaos wasn’t a large ship, and as a merchant corvette, she had no CIC or war room. They had the mess, and this booth, which served as dining table and conference table. Fixer, Nessa and Qek were squashed into the opposite side. Elias shared his side with Zed. They’d figured this configuration out a few weeks back, when they’d officially become a crew of five.
“We need to talk about Agrius.” Elias expanded the holo so everyone could see the map of the galaxy he’d set up. “They’re not interested in credits, so it’s time to think laterally.” Expressions darkened and closed. “And I can’t say as I’m interested in giving them what they really want.”
“Not up to sacrificing yourself for your crew?” Fixer wore a wry smile.
“Should we indicate we would like to negotiate?” Qek asked.
“Not sure what we have to bargain with.” Elias prodded the holographic map. “So our safest bet is to avoid their territory.”
“Got to be a number,” Zed murmured.
“Hmm?”
“Everyone has a number. They’re a criminal cartel, right? They didn’t choose that line of business because they didn’t want to make money.”
“I’d join for the tattoo and spectacularly bad fashion choices.” Fixer shrank back slightly as everyone turned to glare at him. “What? Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Back to a plan that actually might work, I figured we’d mark up a map and then choose our jobs accordingly.”
Zed spoke quietly. “So five hundred k wasn’t enough. We’ll double it. Triple it.”
“We could buy ourselves a new ship for that. A fleet of ships.” Elias tapped the table, his finger sinking through the galactic map. “And then conduct business outside of their territory.”
“You know what, maybe Qek is right.” Nessa waited for everyone to look up before she continued. “Maybe we should contact them. We didn’t leave any bodies behind this time, that must count for something.”
All eyes turned to Zed. He glowered.
“I, for one, appreciate the fact Zed didn’t kill anyone,” Fix put in, obviously trying to nip something in the bud. “But I’d rather avoid all conflict if we can.” Everyone looked at him again. “Hey, just because I’m an asshole doesn’t mean I enjoy getting shot and knifed every time we try to conduct business. Thing is, the more times Zed has to Zone, the closer—”
“Not talking about that right now.” Zed’s tone was dangerous.
Fix’s expression acquired a mutinous cast. “Yeah? Well, I think we should. Your health should be the next item on the agenda.”
Elias suddenly wished he’d sat on the inside of the booth. If Zed decided to make a move, like a quick exit, he was in the way.
“I’m fine.”
Yep, fine as the powder he’d just ground between his clenched teeth.
Opposite, Fixer’s jaw was just as tight. “And you’re gonna stay that way. So that means avoiding Agrius.”
Qek’s wide-eyed gaze bounced back and forth. Nessa borrowed a few of Fix’s fidgets.
Elias made an attempt to wrest back control of the meeting. “I’ve marked what we know on this map here, if you’d all care to take a look.” He hadn’t had much to go on. Previous encounters, publically registered companies, chatter on SkipNet. “We need more data, obviously, and I’d like to avoid gathering that at knife point.” He kept his gaze pointed downward, but he thought he could hear teeth grinding. “Qek, Fix, Zed…hell, even you must have contacts who know something, Ness. We’ll flesh out this map and then plan our next move accordingly.”
“We still going to deliver the shit to Risus?” Fix asked.
“Contracted to do so and we’ve a docket for a job from there. Risilium to be delivered to Alpha.”
“There’s no way Agrius is in Sol. The Belters own the criminal activity in that system.” Fix glanced up. “From there, we can hop back and forth to the Hub, maybe.” The Hub served as nominal center of the galaxy. Each species—humans, ashushk and stin—had a station there, and a gate to and from their “home” system.
Elias turned to consult his new security officer. The line of Zed’s jaw had softened and Elias thanked all the stars Zed had a more even temper than Fixer. Though, for his part, Fix was doing well. He hadn’t insulted anyone yet.
The meeting was young…
“It’s a sound plan,” Zed said.
“Would Anatolius Industries have reliable information on the placement of a criminal cartel?” Qek asked.
Zed’s gaze flicked toward Fix and back again. He shook his head, then answered to the contrary. “Maybe.”
“Brennan seemed to have more than a passing familiarity with their business practices,” Fixer said.
>
Had Fix and Qek cooked this up between them? As a plan to get Zed in contact with his family, it was loose. But given Zed’s razor-sharp wit and instinct, maybe that was for the best. He’d have seen through anything more convoluted. Perhaps have been insulted by it.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Zed’s tone closed the line of inquiry.
Elias tapped the corner of the holo. The map dissolved as emitted light rearranged into a different pattern. “Okay, next up is supply.” He looked up. “Fix, why does our water smell like shit?”
*
Zed knew that look on Flick’s face. It was the one that said they were going to hash something out, whether Zed wanted to or not. Not was definitely Zed’s preference—mostly because talking about shit wasn’t going to fix anything. All it would do would be dim the light in Flick’s eyes, turning them dark and dead, and Zed wanted to hold off on that for as long as possible.
When Elias dismissed the crew, Zed remained in his seat, waiting for the rest of them to head back to their posts. Flick continued giving him the look. Zed continued trying to ignore it.
“I swear to God, you are both such little boys sometimes.” Ness huffed. “Fixer, go do your job and let me do mine.”
Oh, shit.
“Ness—”
She glared at Flick and pointed to the mess door. “Go.”
Flick’s jaw clenched, then he looked at Zed again. “We’re not done.”
“I know,” Zed said softly.
He did know. He was only delaying the inevitable, but…he had to.
A trace amount of tension left Nessa’s shoulders as Flick exited the mess. She turned to Zed with a gentle smile. “Want anything?”
“Got any of that carrot cake left?”
Her smile widened. “Sure.”
Zed relaxed, sinking back into the booth. He blinked—and stared at the plate with a slice of cake that sat before him. His head ached. With a sigh, he looked up to see Ness watching him from the opposite side of the booth, her expression full of concern.
“It’s happening more often, isn’t it?” she murmured.
Zed stared at the cake, unable to answer.
“I noticed it about a week ago. You’d space out on conversations, maybe once a day.” Reaching across the table, Ness clasped a hand over one of his clenched fists. “It’s not just once a day anymore.”
