Chapter 10

TEN

T he shuttle shuddered, metal groaning as the last remaining docking clamp attempted to battle mass and inertia. In a moment, they'd separate whether Zed closed the hatch or not. If he didn't hit the button in time, Felix would die. They all would. If he did…

"I'm sorry," Zed breathed. He dove into the Zone, deep, allowing it to deaden his emotions, give him distance, needing it like he never had before?—

And slapped his hand over the hatch trigger.

It snicked closed without hesitation, the once-innocuous sound something that would now haunt his nightmares. Ingesson fell back, pulled down by the shuttle's artificial gravity, his arm just…gone.

For once, the Zone was a comfort. Part of his brain screamed at seeing Ingesson's—Flick's—arm severed above the elbow, but the rest of him did what had to be done. He ripped off his shirt and tore it into strips, fast, faster than any human should be able to move. Next, he fashioned a tourniquet. Tight. Enough blood had already jetted from Ingesson's arm to make the floor of the shuttle slippery. His skin was pale, his open eyes glassy and unfocused. He'd lost too much blood already, and not just from the arm—his shirt was soaked through across his stomach.

"Stay with me," Zed growled, his voice as flat and dead as it used to be when he was little more than an automaton in the Zone.

"Fuck…fucking useless arm…anyway," Ingesson gasped. His eyes rolled back.

"Ingesson! Eyes front and center!"

He ignored the command. Typical. Zed could feel panic beating in his chest, but it couldn't break through the envelope provided by the Zone. His brain remained clear, rational. As much as he wanted to hover over Ingesson, he couldn't. He had to pilot them back to?—

Where was their pilot?

Review later.

The bleeding had slowed but not stopped. Zed tied another strip around Ingesson's arm, but the fabric surrendered under the force he used to tighten it, tearing in two. A curse rose in the part of his mind that was screaming, but it didn't leave his lips. He shoved the remainder of his shirt against the stump. Pressure. He had to keep the pressure on. What else could he use? The shuttle had to have a first aid kit.

He turned to Gleams, who had roused enough to be sending worry and concern at him. "Help. Please."

"Yes."

Gleams lumbered forward and knelt in the sea of red without hesitation. Her crystalline skin adopted the scarlet hue of blood, reflecting, refracting, until Zed couldn't tell where the skin began and the blood ended.

Another sight to revisit in his nightmares, no doubt.

"Pressure here." He took Gleams's hand-appendage and pressed it to the makeshift bandage.

"Regrow?"

"No." The word echoed in Zed's mind. "It's permanent."

Permanent. Without his arm, Ingesson could be a one-handed ship's engineer—or opt for an artificial limb that would trap him in regular space for the rest of his life. J-space and cybernetics did not get along. Regardless, his life was going to change, and?—

Review later.

They had to get away from the Gorekka , the stin ship. The resonance couldn't pilot—no way any of them could fit in the seat or work the console. Zed wasn't going to win any dogfights, but he could follow the flight tutorial most shuttles had. He pushed to his feet and made his way toward the pilot's console. It took only moments to ensure the shuttle had disengaged and to fly it away from the Gorekka —moments that felt like hours, knowing Ingesson was still bleeding on the floor. He angled the shuttle toward the human fleet and plotted in a course to the Jitendra as best he could.

That done, the Zone faltered. He had to save Flick. Felix Ingesson. That had always been his mission. Would always be his mission. He had to…he had to…

Grabbing on to the Zone with two mental hands, he forced it back into place. Breaking now would help no one.

Alarms blared, dragging his attention back to the console. The shuttle shook and wavered, as though it had been hit with something. He checked the readings—only to find that the Gorekka was no longer appearing on scans, only bits of debris and the small signatures of escape pods. It had been the concussion wave that had hit them. The implications of that, the potential lives lost…

Refocus. Damage, he had to know what damage the blast had caused. He pulled up the alarm interfaces and read the status with an impassive face. Starboard engine damaged, nonfunctional. Port engine operating at 20 percent. Rear thrusters at ten. Hull integrity on the starboard side was weakened—another solid hit could cause a breach. Life support—of course, life support was damaged. They could limp back to the Jitendra , as he'd originally intended, but it would take time they didn't have.

Time Ingesson didn't have.

Zed brought up the comms interface. "Mayday Mayday Mayday, this is?—"

Static filled the cabin. Apparently comms were out too.

Without missing a beat, Zed focused on his cuff instead. As he spoke, he walked back to the first aid kit and began retrieving gauze and materials for a better tourniquet. "Mayday Mayday Mayday, this is Emissary Anatolius. I have the resonance on board and a critically injured human. My shuttle is damaged. We require immediate retrieval and emergency medical assistance. Repeat, we require retrieval and emergency medical assistance."

A cacophony of comms chatter emanated from his cuff—the growls and hums of the stin, the clicks of the ashushk and the panicked voices of humans. Had any of them heard his plea, or were the channels too clogged?

"Mayday Mayday?—"

"Zed?"

He let out a tight breath and shook out a trauma blanket before tucking it over Ingesson's motionless body. "Paredes, I have the resonance on board. All of them. I'm not sure of the extent of their injuries, but they seem minor." And Gleams hadn't given him the sense that there was anything to worry about. "Ingesson?—"

"Critical?"

"Yes. We need immediate retrieval. I know basic field first aid, but that's not going to help for much longer."

"Understood." Paredes's voice shook—though it might have been a waver in the comms channel. "ETA ten minutes."

An ache started in his right temple, payment for holding the Zone for so long. But keeping the Zone in place was better than facing the pale— God, too pale , he's too pale —form on the floor without it. He nudged Gleams's hand aside and slipped the pack of gauze against the stump, then indicated pressure was needed once more.

"Your partner-unit will live?"

Zed nodded, the movement made efficient and emotionless by the Zone. But he discovered he couldn't stop the feelings buried beneath from slipping out across his connection with the resonance.

"Everything. He is my everything."

Gleams lifted another appendage to touch the back of his neck, where the piece of resonance lay. A soothing vibration steadied him, easing the ache in his temple. Wordless comfort.

He'd take it.

Zed trailed behind the float gurney as though he were in a dream. They'd arrived on the Jitendra and Central's best doctors were looking after Ingesson now. None too soon. Ingesson had coded out on the medical ship that had retrieved them—coded out and been brought back, his heartbeat weak but there. For now.

In eight years of war, Zed had seen his share of horrific injuries. Battle was messy, disgusting, gut-churning business. He'd seen limbs lost. Intestines spilled. Heads suddenly half-gone. But never had he seen it happen to someone so close to him.

Never had he caused it.

Zed had slipped deeper into the Zone, another layer to ensure that he continued to feel nothing, when he'd heard the alarms signaling Ingesson's cardiac arrest. He couldn't let himself feel what that meant. He couldn't let himself celebrate that Ingesson had been brought back. He was nothing more than an observer—objective and unaffected. Nothing around him mattered. Nothing could touch him. He watched, impassive, as the float disappeared through doors guarded by armed AEF guards.

He moved to follow, but gentle hands cupped his cheeks and turned his face downward. "Zed."

"O'Brien." Doctor of the Chaos , trained in trauma treatment, served aboard the AEF medical ship Theresa as a civilian doctor, 2257 to 2259?—

"Damn, I haven't seen your eyes like that in months."

Zed knew what they'd look like—flat, empty, pupils dilated. He'd seen the physical effects of the Zone before, though they'd been less severe since the Guardians fixed him. He'd never retreated so far. "Review later."

O'Brien's gaze bore into his own. "No, not later. Now. Come on, come back."

Qekelough stood beside her, face completely smooth, her clicks measured and soft. "Zander, it is not healthy for you to be so removed."

"The mission is not complete."

"Your part is," O'Brien insisted.

"Ingesson is still in danger."

"Not the kind of danger you can help mitigate, honey. You know that."

The Zone wavered, the buffer cracking. Behind it was too much. A mental deluge he didn't want to face. "I c-can't."

"I've got you."

" We've got you." Idowu moved in behind him, wrapping his arms around Zed's chest, and the unfamiliar gesture from his captain was enough to jolt him past the barrier of the Zone.

Zed crumpled, his knees giving out. Elias eased him to the floor. He shook, hard, retches catching in his throat and stealing his breath. God, Flick . His hands scrabbled for purchase on Elias's dark, muscular arms, fingernails biting and scratching. He was drowning, the deluge swamping him, and he couldn't get his head above water.

A curiously soft blue hand stroked his forearm. For a human, it would be a small gesture. But it was the first time Qek had ever touched him—and ashushk were very particular about who they touched. Friends, true friends. The gravity of that allowed him to breathe again.

"H-he coded on the ship."

"I know," Nessa said, her hand brushing his cheek.

Elias's arms tightened. Qek's touch grew more firm. "He is in the best place for care," she said.

Zed nodded, the movement shaky. He leaned back into Elias's embrace, no longer thinking how weird it was—only how much he needed it. He needed to know he wasn't facing this alone.

Movement at the other end of the corridor caught his attention. Theo skidded around the corner—something that might have been comical in any other situation—and raced toward them. He caught sight of Zed, Nessa, Qek and Elias on the floor and stumbled, clearly jumping to conclusions about what it might mean.

Nessa was the first to rise, her hands held out in a calming gesture. "He's in surgery."

The words were enough for Theo to change gears, expression morphing from the cusp of grief to anger. "What the fuck happened?"

Zed pushed to his feet and shook off Elias's steadying hand. "You tell me."

"I wasn't there, Anatolius!"

"Where'd our pilot go? Why was our shuttle the only one not damaged?"

Theo stilled. "What are you insinuating?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"It was an inside fucking job, Paredes!" Zed shouted, stepping into Theo's space. "The stin are assholes, but even they aren't going to blow themselves up on purpose!"

"Stand down, Major."

"I am the fucking emissary. Humanity almost killed my fucking partner!"

"Stand down !"

Zed didn't think, for once—he acted. He dropped into a fighting stance and speared his hand out in a strike meant to incapacitate. Theo blocked it and danced sideways. Zed pursued, only vaguely aware of Nessa begging him—begging them both—to stop. Theo might have seen action, a lot of it, and he might have acquired a higher rank than Zed, but he couldn't match Zed's hand-to-hand skills. Zed's fist found Theo's cheek, then his gut, and he was about to follow it all up with a sweep to Theo's bad leg when he heard the distinct sound of a weapon being readied.

He Zoned—lightly this time—and phase-shifted, flowing through Theo's form and re-emerging behind him with his arm wrapped around Theo's neck. His back was to a wall and Theo's body blocked any shot the AEF soldiers lined up in the corridor might take.

Standoff.

"The cult interview, moving up the meeting—was that all a setup?" he whispered in Theo's ear, still in the Zone. He didn't want to believe it, that Flick's ex would do such a thing and endanger everything , but war changed a man. Zed knew that better than anyone.

"I don't know what you're?—"

"I will snap your fucking neck if you lie to me." Zed emphasized his steady, emotionless tone by tightening his arm. "I might still if he dies."

"I. Don't. Know!"

"Zed. This is Theo ," Elias said, his voice cajoling. He stepped forward slowly, one arm held out. "He wouldn't do anything to endanger Fixer."

Theo's hand latched on to Zed's arm as it tightened again. "Godda?—"

Zed loosened his arm and shoved Theo away. The human ambassador stumbled, one hand rising to rub his neck as he sucked in mouthfuls of air. Zed eyed the soldiers staring him down, keeping himself tense and ready to phase-shift if he needed to.

"Stand down," Theo rasped, waving a hand at them. Zed had to grudgingly admire how Theo was able to turn and look him in the eye without giving a single indication that he despised Zed for what he'd just done. "I will find out what happened aboard the stin ship, Emissary. You have my word."

Zed blinked, emerging from the Zone. Pain settled into his skull, a reminder that even though the Guardians had healed him, multiple uses of the Zone plus phase-shifting was still hell on his system. "Your word doesn't mean shit to me at the moment."

He wanted to pack Elias, Nessa, Qek and Flick—especially Flick—onto the Chaos and get the fuck away from this. But that wasn't an option. They couldn't provide the care Flick would need aboard the little ship and Zed wouldn't leave him here alone. Not for anything.

"Then we'll have to remedy that, won't we?" Theo didn't smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly. Amusement or pissiness, Zed couldn't tell. "I'll gather the intel I can and debrief you in two hours."

"Qek will accompany you."

Theo stared at Zed for a moment, then inclined his head. "Qekelough, I would be honored."

Qek's face remained smooth as she brushed a finger over Zed's hand. "I will ensure nothing is overlooked, Zander."

"I know you will. Thank you." He turned his gaze back to Theo. "Two hours. You'd better have something for me."

Theo and the soldiers left, Qek in their midst. Despite the trauma Zed had inflicted, Theo's regular slight limp wasn't pronounced, his gait strong, steady and quick. Either he couldn't get away from Zed fast enough or he was eager to uncover the truth of events—maybe a little of both.

Zed wasn't sure what he'd do if Theo didn't provide any useful information. The Guardians had made it very clear to the AEF that Zed was to be treated with the same respect they were accorded…and trying to blow him up certainly didn't fit into that realm. But he had no idea what the Guardians would do, and no idea if he could keep their retribution—whatever form it took—contained.

Could he call them in on humanity? Could he take the risk that the most alien of aliens would focus only on the humans responsible for this clusterfuck?

He cupped the sides of his head with his hands, letting his fingers twine into his hair and dig into his scalp. He couldn't think about it now. Flick was on an operating table past those doors somewhere, maybe dying?—

No. Not dying. Please, God…

He couldn't hold back the tiny whimper. Nessa was beside him instantly, her wallet out and scanning. "Headache?"

"Minor," Zed whispered. "I just…Nessa, what am I gonna do if…"

"For one, you're not going to think about it." Her voice rang with command and she expected him to obey. "There's no point in preparing for something that might not happen."

"Might not," Zed echoed.

"He's gotten a lot healthier these past months. Stronger, mentally and physically. It's all in his favor."

"But…"

Nessa glared. "I'm not playing that game with you. You're going to sit your ass down and I'm going to give you a minor analgesic so the pain in your head is one less thing to worry about. Then we're going to settle in with a word game I've got on my wallet." Her expression and her voice softened. "It's going to be hours, Zed. You're probably going to see Theo again before you see Fixer. But I'll stay here," she assured him quickly. "I'll make sure I get regular updates."

Throat filled with more lumps than he could swallow, Zed nodded and submitted to Nessa's care.