Chaos Station 01 - Chaos Station

by Kelly Jensen

  Flick had stiffened against the sudden embrace, but gradually softened in a series of small jerks that felt like trembles. “I’m here, Zed,” he said, pulling him closer. “Right here.”

  Zed sucked in a breath that smelled like soap, circuitry and singed hair. He closed his eyes and leaned, reveled in the feeling of another person’s skin pressed against his. In contrast to their embrace a moment before, there was nothing sexual here.

  “Hurts,” he whispered.

  “What, your head?” Flick’s fingers flew to the back of his skull and found the old scar there beneath the hair.

  “My heart.”

  “Oh.” Flick sighed softly. “Yeah.”

  After another minute, Zed pulled back, clearing his throat. His hands fiddled with the edge of his towel, holding it in place. “Thanks.”

  “I mean it, Zed. I’m here.”

  “Your hair stinks.” Zed shot a smile at him.

  “Thanks, man.”

  His expression sobered. “What you said, back in the med bay...”

  Flick grunted. “I was mad. I say stupid shit when I’m mad, you know that.”

  “Are we still friends, then?”

  “I made you a promise.”

  “Doesn’t mean you have to keep it. Things are—”

  A hand cupped Zed’s bare shoulder. “Yeah. Things are different. Things are shitty. But you need someone, don’t you?”

  Zed couldn’t breathe for the sudden lump in his throat. He stared at his feet and fought the sting in his eyes. Yeah, he needed someone.

  “Have your shower,” he said, looking up. “Then stop by my cabin. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  * * *

  The door whisked open at his knock, as if Zed had been expecting him—which he had been, obviously. Felix followed the scent of soap and metal through the hatch. Awkwardness trailed him and settled across his shoulders like a cloak. The history between him and Zed rose between them, refreshed by their bump and grind in the shower. Felix could still taste Zed on his lips.

  Invisible fingers plucked at his heart again, prodding and poking, daring him to feel. Felix had a remedy for that too. He couldn’t avoid the squeeze, the tightness of his chest and the dryness of his throat, but he could retreat into mental exercise, counting out the reps he’d performed that morning, planning tweaks to onboard systems...

  The fear lurking in Zed’s gaze interrupted his preparations. Rather than waste time rebuilding his defenses, Felix switched gears and cracked a smile. His cheeks fought the curve of his lips, then gave in.

  “I feel like we’ve been summoned to Dr. Marsden’s office.”

  Zed shot him a small smile, thoughts maybe switching back to the Academy. Maybe not.

  “I talk to Marnie now and again.” Felix tugged at his still-damp curls, pulling one over his ear before letting it spring wetly back into place. “Ryan too. Imagine the five of us making it through the war.”

  “Imagine,” Zed murmured.

  “You were all over the newscasts seven months ago. I’d probably not have noticed if Marnie hadn’t sent me twelve separate ripmails.” The story had claimed a high percentage of the news feeds for about a week—until the Guardians swooped in to end the war like they’d finally decided to lance a boil they’d let fester for years. Inscrutable bastards. No one knew what they looked like or sounded like. Hell, no one even knew what the rules were until one got broken. The Guardians had given them the gate, their ticket to the center of the galaxy and an invitation to meet the other kids in the playpen.

  The ashushk were the friendly kids and the stin were the bullies. While humanity and the ashies exchanged technology, it had taken little more than a territorial dispute to incite a war between humanity and the stin. A terrible war that had cost the lives of tens of millions, wiped out sixteen colonies and devastated seven of the space stations serving them.

  The Guardians had let it happen, had sat back and watched as two species strove to wipe one another off the map. But when the Guardians did step in, no one thought to disobey their directives. One did not question vastly superior beings, all-powerful aliens with technology that surpassed even ashushk theory.

  Still quiet, Zed rolled his shoulders and breathed out, the sound of his exhale long and controlled. The hair along the back of Felix’s neck stirred.

  “Okay.” Felix nodded toward the bed and crossed the room to perch his ass on the edge. Thoughts of visiting Zed for reasons other than a confession rolled through his mind, mingled with the scent of soap and tank water, the feel of Zed’s lips crushed against his own, two groins bumping together, hard cocks straining for something other than a brush and a thought. But though he could taste their desire, smell it in the air, the pull between them had been reduced to an itch. It was time to find out why.

  Felix tucked his left hand under his left knee and put his good hand on top. Between the pair, his leg might not bounce. “So, want to tell me why the AEF cut a hero loose?”

  Zed turned the desk chair around and sat across from him, his weight settling with a heavy creak. He bent forward, elbows on his knees, and launched into speech as if he’d spent the last quarter hour or so preparing it. Knowing Zed, he probably had.

  “To start with, we weren’t supposed to be heroes. Covert ops is tough if everyone knows what you look like.” Zed shot him a weak grin. “We were in the right place at the wrong time. Or the wrong place at the right time, take your pick. Mission parameters didn’t include rescuing those civilians—we were supposed to get behind enemy lines and engage the stin farther back. But everything about that mission was fucked from the start. Getting caught on camera was just the cherry on top.” His shoulders drooped. “The brass was not happy with me. I didn’t follow orders and I ended up compromising the effectiveness of my team. If the video hadn’t gone viral...It’s tough to punish soldiers when the galactic community as a whole is praising them.”

  “So they cut you loose because you screwed up?”

  “No. There’s more to it. About two and a half years ago, Emma and I were approached to be a part of a new training program, along with ten other covert ops soldiers. At the end of eighteen months, they said, we’d be the AEF’s razor edge against the stin. We were the first wave, the start of something new and incredible.”

  “That sounds like typical military rah-rah bullshit.” Except...”That’s what you did yesterday, isn’t it? What the hell kind of training—”

  “Classified training.”

  Zed wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and Felix remembered the bumps he’d felt there, briefly. Zed’s off switch. A chill settled into his chest.

  “When the war ended, they didn’t have any further need for us,” Zed continued. “It’s damned hard going from being the would-be saviors of humanity to nothing.”

  Felix sorted through the quick stack of facts Zed had laid out before him. He was about a deck short of a good hand. Basically, Zed had rounded out what he did know while avoiding what he didn’t. His left knee bounced once before Felix could restrain it. He glanced down at his hands, then over at Zed.

  “So, ah, this classified training. Is it a ‘I can tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’ kind of deal?”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  Felix recalled the dark look in Zed’s eyes as he stood amid the limp bodies of four Agrius thugs. He had gained the sense that Zed would have cut through five times that number to protect him, but the knowledge hadn’t warmed him. It frightened him. “You’re not going to tell me about it, are you?”

  “No, I’m not going to tell you about it. When they cut us loose, they told us to lay low, stay out of the spotlight. The ‘or else’ was pretty damned loud. I don’t want to pull you into that. Fuck...”

  Felix scooted forward until he balanced on the edge of the bunk. “I can’t buy you a station, but I can do this. I can be your friend.” Your only friend, maybe. “Trust me.”

  He remembered clearly the last time he’d asked Zed
to trust him. The first time they’d made love. Felix sought Zed’s gaze and reached for his hand. “I’m good with secrets. You know it, but even if you forgot, I’m here. I’m alive. I’m sitting here now because I learned how to lay low, how to keep my head down, how to survive.”

  Zed held his hand like a man holding onto a lifeline, like it was the only thing keeping him from floating into the vast emptiness of space. Felix could almost see the argument raging in his head; he certainly felt the struggle in every squeeze of Zed’s large hand against his smaller one.

  “The training was experimental,” he finally whispered. His hand loosened on Felix’s, but he didn’t let go. “They wanted us to push past the boundaries of human ability, to be stronger, faster, better. Less emotional. There were...drugs. Psychological stuff. I...I don’t really want to get into it.”

  “They wanted what, super soldiers?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, no. Hold on. You’re telling me that you’re some kind of...superhero?”

  “Jesus Christ, Flick.”

  “No, I’m serious. Remember that comic about a soldier who took a serum to fight in the war against the evil Crymilor—”

  Zed scrubbed his face. “I’m not a superhero. You need to start reading better shit.”

  “Don’t dis Captain Galaxy, man. He’s iconic.”

  “It’s all bullshit.”

  “Aww, c’mon.”

  “Are we seriously arguing over comics?”

  “You’re arguing. I’m discussing how they intersect with real life.” And trying not to freak the fuck out.

  Zed let his head fall forward into his hands and speared his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands.

  Felix fought a smile—they were talking about experimental training where they’d drugged his best friend. But this conversation had so many elements of ones they’d had as kids. Minus the scary covert ops shit. “So, uh, what can you do?”

  Zed looked up. “You saw it yesterday.”

  Yeah, he had. Suddenly the idea of Zed being a super soldier no longer seemed so close to the comic book stories he liked so much. His urge to smile faded, leaving something that felt like horror in its wake.

  “It’s an altered state of consciousness. We called it the Zone. In it...I’m utterly focused on the mission goal. No emotions, no regret, no hesitation. I can push past normal human limitations, I don’t feel pain, and...I’m barely fucking human.”

  “Don’t say that.” Zed had always been intense, but he’d always been very fucking human. “The man in the shower...you seem pretty human to me, Zed. I don’t care what happens to you in this zone. You’re...”

  Not the man I remember, not exactly.

  His heart squeezed.

  Pushing aside panic, Felix continued on. “We’re flying halfway across the galaxy to help out a friend, because you want to.” Knowing Emma was in trouble, Felix wanted to help, too, but not for the same reason as Zed. Not because he was any kind of hero. Helping her out was the right thing to do, even if he’d buried the past so deep he’d almost forgotten it. Most of it. “You helped me rescue my friends ’cause you’re the most decent man I know. We nearly lost it in the shower because you...we...” He gestured between them. “You feel stuff, man. You’re human. Really fucking human.”

  Zed gave him a sad smile.

  “So, um...” They needed a change of subject. “You and Emma?”

  He’d barely recognized her in that holo. If Elias hadn’t brought it to his attention...if Zed hadn’t rolled into the Chaos with a burning need to find her, he’d never have made the connection—the past being the past and all that. Back at the Academy, Emma might have claimed top honors in every subject. She had been a superior marksman and brilliant strategist. But she was a team player. She valued her friends, regardless of their faults, and worked hard to help them succeed—even if that meant giving up some of those top spots. She’d been the perfect soldier and Felix had harbored just a little jealousy toward her, even as he had admired her.

  Had she and Zed...

  It didn’t really fit with what had happened in the shower. The Zed he’d known didn’t cheat—Zed had been the other man once, and ended up with a shovel-cracked skull for his trouble. Scars like that stayed with you.

  “Me and Emma what?”

  “You know.”

  “What? Trained together? Worked together?”

  Felix attempted a lewd gesture with his hands. “Yeah. Keyword, together.”

  Zed’s eyes widened as he clued in. “Oh. God, no. That would’ve...no. Bad idea.” He frowned. “And it was never an idea for me. Look, since you...there hasn’t been anyone serious.”

  Anyone serious. Felix couldn’t find it in himself to object to the fact there had been someone, or someones. He’d never been a fan of tragedy; Zed mourning him for the rest of his life would have been utterly stupid. And he’d had his own hookups too. Not many, but a guy had needs.

  Damn.

  He didn’t want to think about those needs now, or how long it had been since he’d tended to them. He had an ashushk star drive to keep him company, and a huge catalog of stupid comic holos on his wallet. Insides twisting in something that felt suspiciously like self-pity, Felix indulged in another pastime: looking at his hands. His gaze roved over the matching scars circling both wrists, and his stomach knotted tighter. Tugging his sleeves down to hide both sets, Felix glanced up at Zed and watched his friend shift through his own series of quick fidgets.

  Really did seem as if they were awaiting a summons to sit before the dean.

  “I...there hasn’t been...” Felix let it go with a grunt. Zed didn’t need to know there hadn’t been anyone serious for him, either. What they wanted—what it seemed they wanted—couldn’t happen. They shouldn’t even try. The galaxy had other plans for Zander Anatolius and Felix Ingesson.

  Felix spoke past the lump threatening to choke him. “Why Loop?” One side of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “Sounds more like a villain than a superhero, if you ask me.”

  Zed held up his wrist, the one marked with the tattoo. “Loop works. It’s simple. But if I’d known I needed a superhero name, I would’ve insisted on Soliton.” He arched a brow.

  “Heh.”

  Felix’s smirk died as his gaze fell upon the looped lines of the tattoo. Well, damn. Zed had honored him. He had marked himself with a symbol chosen by his best friend, his lover, and had carried the idea of them forward. They were as much a loop as the soliton, arcing outward and back again, intersecting in an endless pattern.

  The cabin suddenly felt airless, and the scent of Zed suffocated him. Fears, old and new, crawled down Felix’s back; his shoulders bunched beneath his shirt. His fingers twitched, seeking the mark on Zed’s wrist. Felix pulled his hand back before he could touch Zed’s skin, knowing that even a single point of connection would undo him.

  It was time to retreat.

  Just for a bit.

  He pushed to his feet. “I need to run a diagnostic with Qek before dinner. Nessa will call you when food’s on, or you can...” He gestured vaguely. “She’s good company.” He didn’t like the idea of leaving Zed alone, but he couldn’t be the one to stay with him just now. He turned toward the door, paused in front of the flat panel, huffed out a soft sigh and looked back. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Even if felt like gears were grinding through his heart. Just to see him, be with him one more time was worth the pain.

  Chapter Seven

  The knock on the door made Zed lose count of his push-ups. Okay, not the knock itself, but the hope that barged into his chest at the sound. He hadn’t seen Flick for any significant amount of time since their talk the day before; they’d nodded at each other in the mess at lunch and dinner, surrounded by the rest of the crew, and that had been it. Then Flick had been gone, back to working with the ashushk pilot on whatever system threatened to break down next. Zed hadn’t anticipated hanging out with Nessa for the day, but the doctor had
seemed to expect it—and it had kept him from seeking out Flick and getting in the way.

  They still had stuff to deal with, and despite the knowledge that they might be better off ignoring shit, Zed wanted to deal with it. His chest ached at the thought of Flick avoiding him for the rest of the trip to Chloris Station. Whether or not they revisited what they’d almost done in the shower, Zed didn’t care. He wanted to grab this chance to have his best friend back in his life.

  Would he have sought out Flick if he’d known he was alive? That was a question he’d tossed around in his head more than once since they’d parted company the day before. Zed wanted to say yes...but he knew himself. He was the guy who could’ve gone out to get a wallet and open a new ripmail account after the AEF dropped him, but he hadn’t. He was the guy who had the creds for a j-space tight-beam laser communication—he could’ve sent a jazer holo to his folks, maybe, just something to let them know he was okay. And he hadn’t. Because he was an asshole.

  Okay, a fucked-up asshole. Which was slightly better. Regardless, he had sunk into his nice, dark post-retirement hole because he didn’t know how to be the guy everyone remembered. The only reason he’d emerged from his self-imposed exile was because Emma needed him—and maybe she wouldn’t have if he hadn’t run off to hide. Pushing the recriminating thoughts aside, Zed hopped to his feet and grabbed the towel he’d draped over the edge of the bed. Maybe, for a little bit, he could pretend he wasn’t a fucked-up asshole. Reconnecting with Flick would help push some of the darkness away, wouldn’t it? They could just be Zander and Felix again, before the war had ripped through their lives. He mopped his glistening chest with an absent swipe and called out for whoever was at the door to enter.

  And tried to bite back his disappointment that it wasn’t Flick.

  “You look like I kicked your puppy,” Nessa said. Her riotous red hair cascaded over her shoulders in a mass that seemed to defy the Chaos’s artificial gravity.

  “Sorry.” He brushed the towel over his face, using the reprieve to reach for a more impassive expression. “Something else I can help you with before lights out?”