Chapter 7

SEVEN

Z ed had been on his share of forced marches. Part of their training at Shepard Academy had been focused on enhancing their stamina and endurance, conditioning that had been built upon when he'd moved on to specialist training and into his first posting in the AEF. During the war, there had been times when he'd had to hump dozens of kilometers in full kit. At a certain point, your body just took over, steps automatic and in time. One foot in front of the other, no matter how tired you got, how hot or how thirsty.

That training was the only thing keeping him moving now, a pace or two behind Flick as they moved toward higher ground. He'd even stopped admiring Flick's ass. There was just nothing in him beyond the movement of his feet.

"Zed?"

Zed blinked and forced himself to focus, realizing Flick had asked him a question. It felt as if he had SFT stuffed between his ears. "Sorry. Didn't catch that."

Flick stopped. "You okay?"

Zed considered his answer. He felt slow and fuzzy, as if he was phase-shifted a few minutes in the past. His wrist, though—that was another matter. The bandage and splint did a decent job of keeping the bones in place, but it did nothing to cushion against movement. Every step was tiring, and when he stumbled…yeah, not fun. Not to mention it was fucking hot. And humid. He didn't mind being planetside, usually, but he was starting to hate this rock.

"You've got some lag time there, huh."

Zed grunted. "It's hot."

"Getting hotter too, I think." Flick triggered his bracelet and consulted the display. "Yeah, the temperature's climbing. This is what forty-three Celsius feels like, apparently."

"Great."

The storms they'd encountered entering the atmosphere seemed to be trapped above the ever-present cloud cover that turned the planet into a sauna. The temperature had been mild overnight, slightly warmer than they were used to aboard ship. As the suns approached their zenith, they couldn't be seen clearly—but damn, they could sure feel their heat teasing sweat from their brows and odd scents from the landscape. A nutty aroma swirled around them, reminding Zed of hazelnut coffee…something that had once been his favorite drink.

"I'm getting soft," he muttered. "When I was in covert ops, minor injuries and lack of sleep meant nothing."

Flick shrugged and unclipped his canteen from his belt. They'd found a stream earlier—actual fresh water—and the filter built into the canteen's material would ensure the liquid was free of microbes. He handed it over to Zed. "Wartime is different, though, right? You're mentally prepared for hardship."

"Maybe." Zed tipped the canteen back, allowing himself only a few sips. The water tasted weird, warm and mineral-laden, but it was wet. He swayed a little as he brought the canteen back down, and Flick grabbed his elbow.

"You're not really okay." Flick's voice was filled with concern—or maybe that was his touch. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between input from the regular five senses and their connection.

Zed handed the canteen back. "I'll do what's needed."

Flick just looked at him for a few moments, tension making the scar along his cheek and jaw stand out. Zed didn't need their link to know his lover was thinking hard about options—probably something along the lines of finding Zed a spot to rest and then continuing on alone.

"Fine," Flick said finally. "We'll keep walking for now. But if it gets any hotter?—"

"If it gets any hotter, I'm dragging you into the shade."

"I'll hold you to that."

They started hiking again. The heat and close air both conspired to send Zed back into that almost trancelike march quickly. The high ground they were aiming for didn't seem to be getting any closer, and the absolute lack of vegetation as they gained altitude made it difficult to judge distances. For as far as Zed could see in any direction, if he lifted his eyes from Flick's back, there were only rocks. The ground beneath their feet was rock, the dust they kicked up on occasion was ground-up rock, and the only source of shade was the larger rocks scattered here and there like forgotten marbles. Giant forgotten marbles.

The air closed in, tight and hot. One foot in front of the other. That was all that mattered.

Zed didn't realize Flick had stopped until he walked into him. Flick grabbed his elbow and tugged him over to a half circle of giant boulders with one balanced above—an accidental cave that offered some respite from the thick air. They ducked inside. Zed's head spun as he sank to the ground, back to the rock, his eyes closed.

"Jesus," Flick gasped, sitting beside him. A brief pause, then, "No fucking wonder it's getting hard to breathe. It's forty-seven." He pressed the canteen into Zed's hand. "Drink."

Zed had a few swallows, cognizant of the fact that he needed to leave enough for Flick. He held it out, eyes still closed, and focused on breathing. In, out, a steady rhythm just like the march they'd abandoned.

Flick drank, the sound of his swallows clear in the small cave, then capped the canteen. "Talk to me."

"I hate this planet."

Flick huffed out a half chuckle. "You and me both. Between the bugs and the heat…" He sighed. "I'm beyond glad you're here with me. But also frustrated that you're…here."

Because he wasn't safe. Yeah, Zed got that. His lips curved in a broad smile. "It's cute when you worry about me."

Flick made a dismissive sound. "Need some more water?"

"I'm fine. You don't need to keep coddling me."

"I haven't even asked how your wrist is."

"You're thinking it, though."

"Actually, I'm more worried about your head."

Zed leaned into him. "Just tired from the heat."

Flick shifted and Zed cracked his eyes open to see him working the rudimentary medical scan on his bracelet.

"You're not very sneaky," Zed murmured.

"Just sit still." After a few seconds, the scan beeped, showing readings within normal parameters—considering the preexisting concussion and broken wrist. Core temperature was a little high, but hopefully sitting beneath the rock would help with that.

"Should scan yourself while you're at it," Zed suggested. "This heat, the funky water."

Flick complied without a complaint. Like Zed, he was slightly dehydrated—and there was a minor muscle strain in his back. After checking the outside temperature again—forty-eight Celsius now—he made a noise of disgust and disengaged his bracelet. "You ever see that holo, the one with the prison planet that had virtually no atmosphere, so when the sun rose, it roasted the surface? If you weren't in the shade, you were sausage."

Zed turned to look at him. "No, I did not. Thanks for that thought. That's exactly what I needed."

"The story was pretty good."

"Stop."

"What? I'm just saying…"

"If I dream about roasted people during my nap, Felix, I'm not going to be happy."

"Oh, we're napping?"

Zed leaned more heavily against Flick. "Yeah. We're napping."

"Better tuck your hands and feet in closer so the sun doesn't get them." Zed could hear the smile in Flick's voice.

"You are such an asshole."

Sounds tickled his ringing ears. Scuffling and a quiet yell. Elias rolled onto his side and pushed up to his knees. By the time his vision cleared, he could hear nothing but the thrum of his pulse and the wheeze of his breath. The door hung half-open and the shop was quiet, dark and empty.

Oh God, no…

Elias turned and nearly collapsed when he saw Nessa sprawled across the floor on the other side of the hole. Limbs trembling, he crawled over and blinked down at her still form. She lay on her back, arms and legs aligned neatly, as if she'd been set down gently. Her head tilted toward the hole, the dim illumination enough to see her eyes were closed, her lips parted. She could have been asleep.

He didn't want to touch her. He was afraid to touch her.

Elias grasped the ankle closest to him. She was so warm. How long would she remain warm if?—

"Stop it," he muttered. Moving up to her side, he touched her neck. A steady pulse beat softly against his fingers. Elias breathed out.

Nessa's medical wallet dangled from her left hand. Elias plucked it from her fingers and brought up the diagnostic program. Over the past few months, she'd taught him the basics. He'd never be a doctor, just as he'd never be a pilot. But he made an adequate field medic. He scanned her and read the report. She'd been knocked out with one of her own hypos.

While trying not to think about the humor in the situation—perhaps later…much, much later—Elias decided Sora must also be enhanced. A super soldier. It wouldn't have been easy to get the drop on Nessa, turn her own weapon against her. Only someone with preternatural speed and agility could have done it.

Taking her fingers in his, Elias slumped back to the ground. Until she woke up, he didn't have anywhere to be and every time he blinked his head he took a tour of the galaxy. Gingerly, he tested his jaw. Opening his mouth caused pain. Wouldn't Fixer think that was a riot? A quick scan determined nothing was broken, just badly bruised. Contused?

By the time he was done, another silhouette—this one familiar—filled the open doorway.

"Hey, Qek. You missed the party."

"I surmised as much. As soon as the Blythe left her moorings, I tried calling you. I could not ping either of your wallets, which caused me much consternation." With her eyes wide and her face smooth, Qek did look concerned. "Are you and Nessa well?"

"I think so…wait, you said the Blythe has left?"

"Approximately twenty minutes ago. The jump queue wait is minimal here."

By the time they got back to the Chaos , she'd be gone.

"Shit."

"'S okay," Nessa murmured.

"Ness!" Letting go of her hand, Elias leaned over to cup her cheek. "Hey, how are you doing?"

"Are they gone?"

"Yeah, they nearly broke my jaw and gave you a dose of your own medicine."

Nessa chuckled quietly. "Bound to happen sooner or later." Sobering, she added, "She was so fast."

"They both were. Can you sit up?"

"I'll be fine in a minute. It wasn't a big shot. I should only have been out for an hour."

An hour? He'd rolled around on the floor with the world spinning for that long? He must have been out for a while somewhere in there. "We lost the Blythe and Dieter's data, whatever it was," he said.

Nessa shook her head. "No, we didn't and I know where the Blythe is going."

"Where?"

"Back to Leonis. I had Marnie mess up comms on station, so they wouldn't have been able to transmit the data from here. They might be able to do it from j-space, if the Blythe is equipped to send jazers." Tight-beam communications and equipment were extremely expensive. Most ships relied on relay point comms, or ripcomms, in real space. "Either way, they got what they came for, so they're probably going home."

"That's what you were doing while I was talking to the guy in the hole?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"So you forced them to leave."

"I thought if I made getting off-station or back to their ship more important than dealing with us, we'd have a better chance."

"It seems you were correct," Qek said. "But what about the data?"

Nessa smiled. "You don't think Marnie would have a backup of Dieter's backup?"

"If she doesn't, she's going to be mighty pissed," Elias said.

"I think Mrs. Scott's temperament is the least of our current worries."

Qek was right.

Elias smoothed his palm over the top of his head. It didn't hurt…much. "Hopefully Zed and Fix are having an easier time on their trail."

"They missed their last check-in," Qek said, "but Fixer's previous message indicated one of the planets at 83 Leonis was cloaked in an ionized atmosphere. It is possible they are experiencing difficulties with their comms equipment."

Elias blamed his recent brush with death for the foreboding tickling the back of his neck. "When's the next call due?"

"Tomorrow, at twelve hundred Standard."

Nessa checked her wallet. "We could be at the asteroid by then."

"No need to go there. If Marnie has the data, she has it. Not going to help us any. Let's head straight to Leonis. Catch up with Fix and Zed."

Felix didn't nap. He watched the temperature peak at fifty Celsius, hold steady for half an hour, then mercifully begin to drop. If he and Zed ever did quit shipping shit from one end of the galaxy to another, they were not retiring to a planet. Nope. Never.

"When's our next check-in with the Chaos ?" Zed murmured.

Felix glanced over to see Zed eyeing him through puffy slits. "We've missed it."

Zed licked his lips. Normally fascinated by the sight of his lover's tongue, Felix watched the dry pink tip catch twice. Feeling just as parched, he nudged the canteen forward. "Temperature is dropping again. We should be able to get moving in an hour or so." Assuming the banked clouds didn't hold the heat steady all afternoon. He checked his bracelet and saw they were already back to forty-seven Celsius.

Zed passed the canteen back. Felix set it against the latch on his belt.

"Take a sip," Zed said, his voice rough, but still commanding.

Felix took a sip.

They didn't leave the shelter for two hours—when the temperature dropped below broil. Another four hours saw them cresting the last rise. The climb had been long, but not particularly steep. Beyond the summit, however, the ground simply dropped away, as if the planet had been torn open. Far below, a deep ravine stretched in either direction for as far as Felix could see. Across the ravine, another plateau shone purple beneath the last of the diffuse sunlight. If a bridge spanned the gap, they might reach the other side in perhaps half an hour. It was distant enough to be hazy. But there was no bridge and no immediately discernible way down.

Felix didn't particularly want to find a way down or across. Not right now. He'd rather collapse where they were—and he had a beacon to set up. Zed helped him pull it off his back and reassemble the parts. The remaining sun had all but dipped below the distant horizon by the time Felix opened the holo interface on his bracelet and activated it.

"Well, it's on. Fuck knows if the signal will penetrate the atmosphere."

Zed handed him a protein bar. "Take a break. Come watch the sunset with me."

Despite the fatigue pulling at his limbs and thoughts, Felix smiled. He'd almost forgotten Zed liked to watch the sky—what he called the real sky—from far below the atmosphere. While Felix preferred to observe planets through a view screen, Zed had always liked to look up. How many sunrises, sunsets, eclipses and meteor showers had Zed insisted they watch from the roof of Shepard Academy? Usually it had been all of them sprawled up there on an eclectic array of blankets and cushions. Zed, Felix, Marnie, Ryan and Emma. The Fantastic Five. Their school crew. Friends from the first year to the last. Friends still—except for Emma, who lived on in their memories. Often enough it had just been Felix and Zed sprawled side by side, looking up. Watching the stars, dreaming, sometimes exchanging the simple words friends used to communicate complicated concepts.

Zed had spread a blanket just far enough back from the cliff edge not to experience vertigo. Even then, at school, he'd never wanted to get too close to the edge of the roof. How he could look up and not feel the same distance was beyond Felix. He sat next to Zed and looked out across the ravine. The setting sun painted the thick and hazy atmosphere with brilliant colors. Names hadn't been invented for half of them. Felix watched, mesmerized, as the colors spread and faded, moving through various shades along the way. When the sun disappeared, he let out a long breath.

"That was…"

"Beautiful," Zed provided, slipping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

Zed's thumb brushed Felix's cheek and he leaned into the touch. If he could discount the fact they were marooned, the scene might be more than nostalgic. Might even be romantic. Zed thought it was. Felix could tell by the soft and contented hum traveling through his skin.

A spike of anxiety trickled across. Zed leaned forward. "Is that light down there?" He pointed to his left, along the ravine.

Felix blinked into the near dark. Mentally, he tried to fit what might actually be a light into their flight path. Could that be the source of the power signature Zed had detected? Was it a settlement? "Maybe."

Bigger and smaller questions nagged at him. With the fall of night, the matter of indigenous wildlife cropped up again. They'd seen nothing but the bugs over the course of one complete cycle—about twenty-eight Standard hours—but that didn't mean there were no larger creatures lurking out there. And what about the reason they were here? The missing Project Dreamweaver data and people other than Zed with the ability to Zone and phase-shift.

Fuck, no wonder Zed felt anxious.

Zed turned to face him, his face lit only by the small ambient glow of the beacon. "Nothing we can do about it tonight."

"If we live to see tomorrow, maybe we should check it out."

"We're going to live to see tomorrow, Flick."

"What makes you so sure?" Not that Felix doubted him, not really. Nothing had tried to eat them the night before.

"Because the galaxy has gotta be sick of trying to kill us."

Felix let out a soft snort. "Not sure if that's comforting or not."

"Let's pretend it is."

Zed kissed him and Felix met the gentle touch, happy to restore the contented hum to Zed's thoughts. Their lips brushed together once, twice, the contact almost a sweet nuzzle. Then Zed leaned in, deepening the connection, and Felix fell swiftly into a familiar thrall. Zed's mouth tasted of protein bar and funky water, but beneath lay him . The essence of the man Felix loved and desired.

Heat flushed his skin, from his neck down—quickening the lazy thrum of his pulse. He felt Zed's hand move around behind his head, fingers poking into his curls and caressing his scalp. Then Zed was encouraging him to lie back. Not to sleep—Zed's mounting excitement thrummed through the connection. The same tingle that tripped toward Felix's fingers and toes, through his gut and down into his balls. He'd bet his share of the Chaos Zed was half-hard. He was.

But when Zed had Felix sprawled beneath him on the ground, hips pressed together to confirm they were both challenging the confines of their pants, a quick flare of frustration interrupted what should have been a headlong fall into something more than a kiss. With his broken wrist splinted and strapped to his chest, Zed had only one hand free—and had to use it to hold himself up.

"Fuck." He shifted awkwardly back to his knees.

Felix didn't have to touch him to feel the anxiety creeping back in, cooling the flush of desire, tempting his thoughts away from physical release. If they were aboard their ship—or anywhere with something they could use as lube—Felix would roll him back and fuck him stupid. Drive every thought out of his head in the best way he knew.

Instead, he pushed up to his elbows and grabbed Zed's hand. "Lie down next to me."

Zed hesitated for just long enough to show how far he'd drifted. "Maybe we should?—"

"Lie down, soldier."

Zed's mouth crooked up on one side. "Sir, yes, sir." He lay down on the blanket and tipped his head toward Felix.

Tempted by his beautiful mouth, Felix kissed him again. Zed protested when he pulled away, only to smile as Felix got up, straddled his hips and leaned in for another kiss. No gentle nudges this time. Felix kissed him hard and deep, calling Zed's tongue out to play almost at once, thrusting past any motion too gentle, nibbling on Zed's deliciously full lower lip. Zed moaned audibly and physically. Abandoning Zed's mouth, Felix moved down over his jaw and sucked at his neck. Stubble scraped his lips. The taste of sweat hardened his cock. He'd always liked the smell of a man, the taste that lingered beneath any soap, no matter how fancy.

Zed arched beneath him, as if plucked up from the middle. "Flick." A deep groan reverberated through his skin.

"Right here." Bracing himself on one hand, Felix reached down to stroke the hot, hard ridge of Zed's erection. Zed's next groan shook him. Grinning, Felix bit at the point of a nipple poking through the SFT of Zed's shirt. He tongued the small round end of a barbell piercing, tasting dust and leaving a wet spot for the smart fabric to deal with.

"Dear God, don't stop," Zed hissed.

"I'm the one giving orders here."

Zed answered with a choked laugh, pushing into Felix's hand.

Fuck the lube. If they were aboard a ship, he'd strip Zed of all his clothing, article by article, and pay homage to each centimeter of skin he bared. He'd trace every tattoo and scar with his tongue, leave the impression of his teeth in unexpected places. Reduce Zed to a quivering, incoherent mess. Then he'd suck him off.

He settled for flicking the wet fabric over Zed's nipple, knowing the drag of material across so sensitive a point would feel almost as good as skin against skin. Zed uttered something incoherent. His cock twitched.

Felix gave it a quick squeeze before moving his hand away. "What was that?"

"Wish you could fuck me. Need you."

You and me both . "Going to suck you so hard you won't be able to think for a week." Not about planets that should be deserted, or soldiers that shouldn't exist.

"Yeeess." Zed thrust his hips upward.

Felix opened Zed's old-fashioned belt and tugged his pants down, catching his underwear at the same time. Zed's cock sprang free. In the muted light of the beacon, it looked purple. Moving to kneel between Zed's legs, Felix wrapped his fingers around the hot velvety length and leaned in to inhale the musk of Zed's skin. He lapped at the pearly drop of precome rolling down from the slit. Curled his tongue around the flare of Zed's glans and sucked.

Zed jerked beneath him. He might have shouted. Felix could only hear the echo of sound, as if it had come from Zed's mind, through their connection. Maybe it had. He worked Zed's cock like a fleshy popsicle for a while, knowing the tease would drive his lover to distraction. Zed humped and shuddered. He whimpered and moaned. He found Felix's ear and tugged. A stream of pleas filled the night.

"More…please, more. Don't stop…Jesus, Flick. Harder, suck…Oh, so good."

Every word was music. Every word was Zed distracted from time and space.

Felix sucked harder, gave more. Took as much of Zed's length into his mouth as he could. He reveled in the familiar nudge at the back of his throat. Swallowed, opened, took more. Beneath him, Zed quaked. He yanked on Felix's ear. But the movement of his hips was too restrained. He was holding back.

Felix sent another command across their mental connection. "Let go." He didn't mean stop tugging on his ear. He meant Give in . Stop thinking and just fuck my mouth .

Zed's hand cupped the back of his head, fingers slipping through his curls—not caressing this time. Pulling. Felix sent encouraging thoughts. Then, wetting a finger, he snuck it beneath Zed's tight nuts to stroke at his hole. Zed thrust hard. With a short, sharp cry, he let go. His hips drove up and back. He tightened his hold on Felix's hair and pulled him closer. He let go…and fucked Felix's mouth.

Felix would allow no one else to do this to him. To use his mouth roughly, to batter at his throat. But for Zed he was a willing vessel, and that knowledge—and acknowledgement—seeped across the connection both ways. And, just as he'd instructed Zed, Felix let go . Let it happen.

The rhythm of Zed's hips quickly became erratic. He paused and Felix breathed—and swallowed saliva and precome. Then Zed thrust up a handful of times, grunting and gasping. Felix willed himself to stillness and waited for the inevitable end. Zed came. The hot-cool flesh of his thighs shuddered close to Felix's mouth as he shot down Felix's throat. Felix swallowed mindlessly, knowing he'd choke if he stopped to think.

The mental aspect of Zed's orgasm reached out and caught him, nearly drowning Felix in sensation. Zed always came hard, as if every climax might be his last. Felix didn't see the colors that invaded Zed's vision afterward, but he felt them in moments like this, as though the rainbow were merely a side effect of an emotional overload. All the love, all the care. Accepted, treasured, returned.

Zed's cock was deservedly limp when Felix pulled away to rest his cheek against the crinkly hair of Zed's bare thigh. Zed patted his forehead, the gesture apathetic. Felix chuckled quietly—the movement of his throat not quite comfortable after the punishment of Zed's cock. He licked his puffy lips and hoped they had more than a dribble of water left in the flask.

Zed's voice rumbled through his skin. "Fuck, that was intense. Seeing you down there with your mouth stretched wide."

"Mmm-hmm."

"How 'bout you?" That was Zed all over. All thought sucked through the end of his cock, but still wondering if his partner might like to get off.

Felix pushed at the half-hard lump in his pants, rearranged it a little. "I'm good."

"Very good." The familiar rejoinder had Felix smiling. "But I don't?—"

Felix crawled back up to Zed's mouth and shut him up with a bitter, salty kiss. Zed stopped talking. The important thing, though, was that their mental connection fell quiet. Zed might be capable of making his lips move, but the only thing on his mind was the taste of his come and the satisfied ache in his empty balls.