by Kelly Jensen
She’d tossed tasks at him all day—menial ones, ranging from organizing shit in the med bay to carting crates from the cargo bay to the galley. He hadn’t minded any of them. They’d kept his hands busy and his brain occupied enough that he didn’t dwell on stuff.
Nessa stepped into the cabin and the door slid shut behind her. “Nope. I’ve been sent to summon you to the game.”
“What game?”
“Cards. Poker, blackjack, crazy eights—whatever we feel like playing. Eli had the glint in his eyes that said high-stakes poker, though.” She grimaced. “High stakes is pennies and chores, by the way. We’re risk-takers on the Chaos, don’t you doubt it.”
Zed snorted softly. He rubbed at the scar on the back of his scalp, the ones on his neck. Regret settled into his chest as he realized what his answer had to be. “Thanks, but—”
“You have to stare at your ceiling?” Nessa’s expression dared him to contradict her—then it shifted, growing more mischievous. “Fixer’s there.”
“Oh.” For Christ’s sake, Zander, do not chew on your lip like some mopey teenager. “Does he know...”
“Yes. Whose errand do you think I’m running?” Her grin widened.
“Oh. Huh.”
Flick wanted him there. Zed had kind of wondered if the engineering issues today had been manufactured to allow Flick to keep his distance, but if he’d asked Nessa to come get him...
Okay, he could understand both the distance and the invite. They needed time to reacquaint themselves and they’d already almost rushed into something that could’ve been a hell of a complication. Zed didn’t need any more complications in his life, thanks. But Flick’s friendship?
Hell yes.
He lifted a hand to his face, wincing at the week-old bristles that greeted his palm. Even as his brain reminded him that being friends with Flick didn’t require perfect grooming, he was still wondering if he’d have time to shave. Maybe shower. Did he stink? He ducked his head toward his armpit just as he remembered he wasn’t alone and looked up sheepishly.
Nessa’s lips twitched.
He sighed. “Go on, let it out.”
A girlish giggle pealed through his cabin, definitely not the laugh he’d have associated with the cantankerous doctor. But he liked it.
“You’re cute,” she said.
“I think I left ‘cute’ behind about twenty years ago.”
“Nope. You’re cute. And don’t worry. You don’t stink, you’re rocking the beard, and...well, your hair’s a bit damp.”
Before he could stop her, Nessa grabbed the towel and reached up to scrub it over his head. Zed bent forward automatically, sort of liking the fact that she was taking care of him. It’d been so damned long since anyone had given a shit. Including himself.
Her fingers brushed the back of his neck, skimming his scars, but they didn’t linger. The towel disappeared and as he straightened, a shirt from his pack caught him in the chest. It was one of his nicer ones, an SFT with a subtle sheen indicating the smart fiber still functioned well.
“Black,” Nessa announced. “Definitely your color.”
“Black’s anyone’s color.” Zed shrugged it on.
“You’re such a man. With your dark hair and light eyes? Wear black. All the time. Oh yeah,” she said, her voice appreciative as she took in the stretch of fabric over his chest, “Fixer’s going to be drooling.”
“I don’t think either of us is—”
“Hush.” Nessa raised a single finger and waggled it back and forth. “I like you, Loop. You seem like a good guy, even if you’re scary as shit sometimes. Fixer seems to like you, too, and I like Fix even more than I like you. I want my people to be happy.”
“I’m not going to make him happy, Nessa.”
“Ness,” she corrected. “And time’ll tell, won’t it.” Her delicate, long-fingered hand brushed a lock of hair away from one of his eyes, a strangely tender gesture—and a short-lived one. She flicked his forehead with her finger. “You do need a haircut, though. Maybe tomorrow.”
Zed was torn between wanting to argue with her—about Flick and about his hair—and wanting to wrap her in his arms. He settled for a shrug. “Okay.”
“Okay.” She grabbed his arm, spun him toward the door and gave a push. “Now, c’mon. I don’t want Eli to make up a rule that says anyone who’s late needs to clean the latrines.”
“Would he do that?”
“He likes making up weird rules. Once, he decided that part of the bet would be no swearing. If you swore, you folded your hand and accepted the chores in the pot.” Nessa grinned as they marched down the corridor. “Fixer ended up cleaning both latrines and the mess, and Eli’s cabin. Left him a present, though.”
“Oh God.” He knew all about Flick’s presents. “What?”
Nessa bounced, her amusement clear. “He’d made these little tiny alarm clocks, programmed them to go off at random intervals, and hid them everywhere. Eli was so pissed the next morning. Served him right, though. As Fixer put it, ‘You don’t fucking tell a fucking sailor not to fucking swear.’”
Zed chuckled and for once, his smile didn’t fall away as soon as he realized it was there. It felt good. He felt good, just sharing a laugh and a memory of a man both he and Nessa obviously cared for a great deal.
“That sounds like Flick,” Zed agreed.
“So he was he like that...before?”
Zed met Nessa’s curious gaze. He wanted to ask what she meant by before, but he didn’t have to. Before Flick had “died.” That realm of lost time that Zed hadn’t wanted to think about—in fact, he’d strenuously avoided considering it, because he didn’t trust himself to react...normally. Swallowing, he nodded.
“Yeah.” He shook off the worries about Flick’s lost time as they rounded the corner to the mess. “Once, he loosened all the screws on a classmate’s bed—”
“Oh, shit, he’s telling stories.”
More of the darkness in his past fell away as Zed took in the sight of the crew settled around a felt-covered card table. The folding chairs couldn’t be much more comfortable than the mess table booth, but they provided a bit more space and protected the secrecy of the cards. Idly he noted the presence of Elias and the ashushk, Qekelough, whom he’d met only briefly, but his attention was quickly consumed by Flick. He appeared damned relaxed and comfortable as he leaned back into a folding chair, beer bottle in one hand and the other arm hooked over his chair back. His blond curls bounced with even a slight movement. Zed had the sudden urge to test that theory by pulling one to see if it would jump back into place. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead.
“Yeah,” Zed said.
“The one about the screws on Neal the Asshole’s bed?”
“Yeah.” His grin widened.
Flick waved him toward the fridge and Zed headed over to retrieve a beer. A couple of sips wouldn’t hurt. He chose a seat between Nessa and Qek, across from Flick.
“All right, so this is how it went,” Flick said. “The guy with the room next to...uh, Loop’s was a real asshole. Hence the nickname.”
“Creative.” Nessa snickered.
“Fuck off, we were twelve.” Flick shot a mock scowl in her direction. “Every night, the dude would have loud, wall-banging sex—”
“I did not think your species indulged in recreational sexual activities until later in adolescence,” Qek said.
Flick blinked. “What?”
“You said you were twelve.”
“Oh. No. We came up with the nickname when we were twelve. The fucking was in the last year at the Academy. We were eighteen.”
“I see. Very well, continue.”
“So. Wall-banging sex, every night—”
“Weren’t there adults at this facility?” Elias said. “Didn’t they notice?”
“Will you let me tell the story?”
Zed bit back a laugh and sipped his beer. Watching Flick trying to tell the story was almost more enjoyable than the story itself.
“Loop tried to be the nice guy. Asked politely for Neal the Asshole to be considerate—”
“I hope you did not use that name when you spoke with him, Mr. Loop.”
Zed saluted Qek with his beer bottle. “No. Mind you, I was so tired at that point, I couldn’t drum up a good bout of temper if I’d wanted to.”
“And we had exams coming up, so Loop needed his rest. One of our other friends, Marnie, came up with a plan to get some chemicals out of the lab and make an itching powder.”
“Oh Jesus.” Nessa clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, go on.”
“Yeah, we got caught. Detention for a week and Loop still wasn’t getting enough sleep, so...” Flick paused for a swallow of beer.
Zed took up the torch. “So Mr. Ingesson here broke into Neal’s room, loosened the bolts on his bed, and put a program on his wallet that’d kick on the video capture when it heard certain...noises. Then blackmailed the asshole. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us about that until graduation, man.”
Flick hid behind his beer bottle. “I like being in the background.”
“And I liked hearing the dude’s bed fall apart just as he was getting going that night. Perfect.” On impulse, Zed clinked the neck of his bottle against Flick’s. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Are we done with memory lane now?” Elias held up the deck of cards. “We have a card game to play.” He leveled a glare at Zed, one that might have been serious, or maybe not. It was tough to tell with the captain at times. “You ready to clean the latrines, Loop?”
Zed grinned. “Bring it on.”
* * *
Zed should always wear black.
Felix found it difficult not to stare at the soft, shiny fabric that clung to the soldier’s shoulders and pecs like paint. Throat dry, heart pecking at his breastbone, he counted the cards with Elias as they whispered across the table. Then he scooped up his pair and looked at them. He had crap, unless a two of clubs and a four of hearts equaled some magic combination he’d forgotten about.
“Fix?”
Felix put his cards down and made a show of studying the faces gathered around table. He couldn’t bluff for shit and they all knew it, but that fact never stopped him trying to play the game, the one that had very little to do with the cards resting facedown.
Nessa looked smug; then again, she always looked like that. Qek’s lips had disappeared into the fleshy blue folds of her face. Elias had his poker face on, which resembled his captain face in every way. Zed...Zed looked fucking sexy in black. How in the hell was he supposed to concentrate?
“I...” Felix picked up his cards.
“You’re paid for a round,” Elias reminded him, indicating the two pennies Felix had contributed as the big blind.
Felix shot Elias an annoyed look, mostly because he always forgot that part. Did the captain have to remind everyone he sucked at poker? Why were they playing poker, anyway? He’d wanted to play Egyptian Ratscrew.
“Right, I check then.” He rapped his knuckles on the table.
The flop revealed nothing of note. Zed still looked sexy in black. Felix folded, ready to play his preferred role, that of observer and shit-stirrer. A glance at Zed caught a disappointed twist of lips, as if the other man had hoped to bet against him until the end, thereby relieving him of all his pennies and perhaps his shirt.
Felix delivered a slow smile.
One of Zed’s dark brows arced upward, only to settle as Elias laid down the turn. Qek began clicking, drawing Zed’s attention across the table.
Nessa threw her cards in. “I swear, between Qek and Fix...”
“What?” Felix said, tossing Qek a wink.
Elias nudged another couple of pennies toward the pot and challenged Zed with a look. The man with a plan returned the stare, and the pennies. Then he added another pair. Qek clicked happily and pushed a tidy pile of coins into the center of the table.
Felix clapped his hands together and rubbed until his palms warmed. “It’s high stakes aboard the Chaos! Fortunes will be won and lost tonight.” He lifted his chin toward Elias. “Will the captain bet his decrepit ship?” His gaze roved left. “Or will Qek prove she actually has balls.” Nessa snorted into her beer. Felix turned to Zed. “Or will our mysterious guest break the table with another wallet of unhooked credits.”
“A fool and his money are soon parted,” Qek intoned.
Felix raised his hands in a victory cheer. “Perfect!”
Qek wrinkled with mirth.
Zed won the hand. As he dragged his handful of pennies across the table, he said, “Oh, goody. Now I can visit the penny machines on Tyche. Where did you get all these, anyway?” His large fingers dwarfed the single brown coin he held up to the light.
“Tyche,” Elias said. “We found a bag of them.”
“Found, eh?”
“You know, conveniently tripped over,” Nessa said.
“After Fixer hacked three successive door locks in four point three minutes.”
“That was my best hack, Qek. That first lock could have blown my good hand off. Though my glove is steadier for stuff like that, sure, I don’t want another one.” He tried for a shudder to show his distaste for the idea he might enjoy life with two mangled hands.
Elias tapped the table. “Your best hack was the one on Dardanos.” The captain pointed a brown finger at Zed. “And your friend here earned himself a seat at our table.”
“A notch for his belt, definitely. Not everyone gets to play for chores with the crew of the Chaos. You can add that to your list of achievements, Loop.” Felix accepted the cards from Elias. “Right, I need some blinds if y’all want some cards.”
Zed and Qek complied.
“You make a habit of accidentally tripping over bags of stuff?” Zed asked.
Felix dealt him a card. “Nah, I wanted to test this new program Marnie sent me. It’s supposed to be adaptable, like a hack-all for locks. I needed a challenge for it.” He put the deck down and picked up his cards. “I haven’t beat her record, though. Six locks in ten minutes. Two of them alarmed. ‘’’Course, the only place I’d find six successive locks would be military intelligence, and one stint in the brig is enough for me.”
Zed’s jaw flexed just like it did when he prepared to ask a hard question. Felix almost smiled as that remembered detail filtered through. Then he cut short the process. “Was just a misunderstanding.”
Beside him, Elias scoffed. “Yeah, a misunderstanding.”
“I do not recall this story,” Qek said.
“That’s ’cause I ain’t told it.” Felix looked down at his cards. “Win this hand, Qek, and I’ll give you a personal account.” Gaze sliding up over the top of his cards, Felix peeked across the table.
“What do I get if I win?” Zed’s eyes flashed, dark and dangerous.
Felix’s stomach and balls both hitched as if neither could decide which one should react. He did not want to tell Zed about his return to AEF space, because that would necessitate telling him something about the nearly four years preceding his return. He aimed a cheeky smile at his friend. “A promise that I won’t loosen the bolts on your bed.”
Qek clicked. “So, is that a promise not to have recreational sex with Mr. Loop?”
Nessa spat beer into her upraised hand. Her shoulders continued to jerk as she coughed. Elias helpfully smacked her in the middle of the back. A hint of color warmed Zed’s cheeks as he joined in the laughter. Felix assumed the faint blush was in direct response to the burning of his own ears. Jesus, Joseph and Mary. He tugged at his sore ear and shoved his fingers into his curls, messed with them a bit.
Qek’s head revolved on her slender neck as she looked back and forth between her crewmates and guest. “I do not understand the joke.”
Nessa hooted like an owl and Elias rolled back in his chair.
Swallowing a chuckle, Felix said, “I didn’t either, until you made it.”
The ashushk clicked thoughtfully,
then smiled, her eyes all but disappearing into blue wrinkles. “Ah!” she managed before her slim shoulders bunched and rolled. “Loosening bolts is an interesting euphemism.”
Felix eyed Zed across the table. “Sure is.”
Zed tucked a smile behind his cards. When he glanced up, his mouth still held an amused slant. “I thought this was a cutthroat game.”
“Right, right, keep yer pants on,” Elias said.
Nessa slid down in her chair and waved at the table. “Stop. Just stop.”
The crew sobered slightly as the flop revealed a mix of cards. Betting passed without comment, and Felix decided to stay in for the hell of it. By the time the river landed, excitement bubbled through his veins. He tried not to meet anyone’s gaze lest he give himself away.
“Christ, Fix. You’re the worst damned card player in the galaxy.” Elias threw his cards down.
“What?”
“You either fold or do the hermit thing, which means you have a handful of crap or a pair of aces.”
“I don’t have a pair of aces.”
Elias rolled his eyes.
“I fold.” Nessa tossed her cards onto the felt and reached back to grab the handle of the refrigerator. “Who wants another?”
“Hey, notice our beer didn’t freeze when we crossed into j-space?” Felix asked. It was too late to be casual, pretend he didn’t have a good hand, so he decided to go for a second win—getting Nessa to admit the refrigerator repairs had been worthwhile.
She grunted in response and pushed a cold bottle into Qek’s outstretched hand. Fermented grains were one of the few human substances an ashushk could metabolize.
Felix clutched his chest. “You wound me, Ness.”
She hooked a thumb toward Zed. “I’ve a new man to do my bidding. Loop makes a fine steward.”
“Wait, you’ve been making our client work?”
Zed’s blue gaze flicked back and forth between Elias and Nessa.
“He needed something to do. Any more push-ups and his shoulders would rip through that slinky black SFT of his.”
“Mr. Loop is a fine physical specimen.”
Elias’s expression darkened.
