Chapter 12

TWELVE

Z ed tilted his head back, reveling in the feel of water rushing over his hair, neck and down his spine. He closed his eyes, and for an instant he was back aboard the Chaos , in the tiny communal shower stalls. In his imagination, Flick was standing in front of him, watching the water stream over his muscles, just about to touch?—

With a sigh, Zed opened his eyes. Popping a boner in the quasi-public space of the Anatolius gym showers would not be advised—not that his cock was all that interested in action. They both wanted Flick and fantasizing in the shower was a poor, pathetic substitute. He made quick work of washing his skin and hair, keeping his back to the stream of water. After waking up with piercings, he'd discovered that his abused nipples were not up to the caress of hot water. He'd almost yanked the little barbells out—but somehow, some way, Maddox had convinced him to leave them in at least until after Flick saw them.

If he ever came back.

Two days. Zed's ripmails to Flick had gone unanswered. Elias and Ness had been in touch—though Ness was the only one Zed had spoken to. He wasn't Elias's biggest fan at the moment because even if Flick wanted to go along with the Chaos , it had been Elias's call to take him. He figured they'd have words. Eventually. He'd just add them to the words he wanted to have with Flick.

He knew Ness wasn't wrong—Flick was fucked up. Hell, what ex-soldier wasn't? Add in the stin and being a POW, then Zed's death and the emotional fallout from that…really, it was amazing that Flick was functional at all. But that didn't change the fact that instead of talking to Zed, instead of trying to deal with shit, Flick had run. Was it his fault for expecting too much? They'd never revisited their agreement to take their relationship one day at a time. Zed had just sort of assumed that since he no longer had a known expiration date facing him that they could—and would—roll into something more permanent.

Had that been selfish? Fuck, it had. Maybe that was part of the reason Flick left. Maybe he didn't want something more permanent and he just didn't know how to say it. Maybe?—

Zed stabbed the shower's holo interface and the water shut off. "Enough thinking," he muttered, the words reverberating in the empty space. The students he'd taught had already come and gone, other duties calling them away from the gym. Zed had nothing else to occupy him—unless he wanted to go seek out Lise Bellerose. See if she had any work he could do. Or he could pay a visit to the Anatolius legal team, see if they'd come up with any new strategy to keep him out of the AEF's brig. Just something to make the hours of the day go by fast enough that he stopped contemplating other ways to fill his time.

Like…if getting a lower piercing would hurt less or more than his nipples did.

Brennan burst through the change room door just as Zed pulled his underwear up over the curve of his ass. He almost growled at his brother, but the expression on Brennan's face killed the sentiment. "What?"

"Checked your messages?"

"No, I had a class and I just got out of the shower."

Brennan nodded, the movement clipped. "I pushed up the meeting with the lawyers."

"What? Why?"

In answer, Brennan pulled out his wallet and tapped a button. The asshole reporter from the conference—Juston Dell—appeared, suspended in holographic form. The text "Secrets & Lies" splashed behind him in garishly colored letters. "The Allied Earth Forces was our savior, our life raft, during the long war with the stin. The AEF protected all of us, watching out for humanity and trying to keep our species safe. But how many lines did they cross while doing that?

"To hear the AEF tell it, none."

The report switched to footage of an AEF press conference, where a high-ranking officer—Zed didn't recognize him—spoke to the assembled group of reporters. "The AEF conducted no experiments on its soldiers and never will. Anything you might have heard was nothing more than conjecture based on old—and very bad—science-fiction holos."

Dell reappeared. "But was it? A source very close to this so-called fictional Project Dreamweaver supplied details on the horrific experimental training the AEF subjected select soldiers to—training that utilized stin venom."

"Oh, shit," Zed breathed. He sat down on the bench, possibilities racing through his brain. A plan. He needed a plan.

Brennan paused the holo. "I can show the AEF all the records we have to prove you never communicated with Dell, but that's not going to do anything at this point. They've got a hole to plug and you're the most visible potential leak."

"I'll swear whatever I need to swear, sign whatever I need to sign to prove this wasn't me."

Brennan scrubbed a hand over his face. "It won't matter. We need a new strategy."

"Bren…" Zed stared at his brother. "Are you talking about running?"

"If it keeps you out of the AEF's hands, yes, damn it." He blew out a harsh breath and his hand flopped back to his side. "We need to buy time and getting you out of sight is?—"

Boots clamored on the other side of the gym door. A lot of them. Zed shared a look with his brother, his lips curving up in something that felt too much like a grimace to be a smile. "Too late."

An AEF contingent shoved the doors open and flowed into the change room, grunts with guns fanning out to ensure Zed couldn't run. Bradley stepped forward, his lips set into a hard line. His dark gaze skimmed over Brennan to settle on Zed.

"You going to come quietly, Anatolius?"

Brennan moved to stand between Bradley and Zed, his back ramrod straight. "This is private property, General. I demand you?—"

Bradley held up his wallet with a document holo already keyed up. "I have a warrant for Zander Anatolius's arrest, signed by the Supreme Court of the Central Alliance of Planets and Stations. As of this moment, Mr. Anatolius, you are harboring a fugitive and if you continue to obstruct justice, I have no problems hauling you in too."

"My brother did not?—"

Zed stood, then froze as the guns in the room leveled on him in one smooth, unified motion. Slowly, he lifted his hands, his mind calculating how fast he'd have to move, how many times he'd have to phase-shift to get out of this. He could do it, he realized. It'd push his limits, but he could do it.

Except not without killing some of these soldiers in the process. And endangering his brother, which was not an option.

"Can I get dressed?"

Bradley jerked his head and one of the soldiers darted forward to inspect the clothes hanging in his locker, then the boots. After a few seconds of pawing at them, the soldier nodded and proclaimed an all-clear.

"Go ahead," Bradley instructed.

Brennan turned to watch as Zed jerked on his pants and SFT. "You don't have to do this," he murmured.

"What do you want me to do? Fight?" Zed sat down to pull on his footwear. "I'm not willing to hurt anyone who's just doing their job."

"God, Zed—" Brennan's breath quickened. "I'll call the lawyers. We'll straighten this out. We'll?—"

"Breathe. They're not going to hurt me." He straightened and offered Brennan another small smile, trying to inject his voice and body language with confidence. Ease. Nothing to worry about here.

Brennan stepped forward and cupped the side of Zed's head with an uncallused palm. "They'd better not," he growled in a low voice. "We just got you back."

"And I'll be back again." He wanted to add promise , but didn't dare.

He didn't want to have to break it.

Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Felix swallowed the foul taste of his own breath. "Huh?"

Nessa shoved a steaming mug of coffee under his nose. Automatically, Felix wrapped his hand around the stainless steel vessel, sighing as warmth tickled his palm and worked into stiff tendons and aching bones. He'd run out of painkillers, which might be a good thing. The cocktail of pain meds and sedatives left him with a wicked hangover. But the sedatives alone left him so sore, as if he'd lain still for twelve hours—which he had. As a result, he ached. And someone had replaced his brain with rice.

"I asked if you've checked your messages." Nessa folded her arms. "I'm guessing by the stupid look on your face that you haven't. Have you used up all those sedatives yet?"

"Nearly. Are you going to give me any more?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But that's the least of your concerns right now. Check your bracelet."

Fearing Nessa might whack his head if he didn't comply, Felix tapped his bracelet. There were a stunning number of unopened messages. The top five were jazers from Brennan Anatolius. A horrible twitch caught the finger Felix poked at his display. Even with rice in his head, he could see the pattern. Zed had stopped sending ripmail ten hours ago, about when Brennan had started paying for tight-beam transmissions through j-space.

Shit.

"You know what's in these messages, don't you?"

"Yes."

And she wasn't going to tell him, because he deserved the shock of whatever waited behind that cold, bleak subject header: Urgent . Felix caressed the holographic pixels and the message opened. He could justify the cost of accessing a jazer with his guilt and probably have bucket loads left over. He read the first line and closed his eyes.

Double shit.

Anger sputtered and died in his gut. This wasn't Marnie's fault. She hadn't promised Zed would be safe on Alpha, she'd only suggested he would be.

Was it his fault? If he'd stayed, could he have protected Zed from the AEF?

Thoughts clinging to phrases such as "I'd die trying," Felix opened his eyes and scanned the rest of the message. The anger so recently set aside flared to life. Burned hotly until rage licked across his skin, making his limbs tremble. "Where did Dell get all these details?"

"Maybe the bug?" Corners of her mouth turning down, Nessa nodded toward his display. "Brennan attached holos, if you've the stomach for them."

He hadn't, but Felix would rather die (yep, again) than admit that to Ness. He chose a random attachment and watched the holo. Juston Dell flashed a smug smile at the camera as he introduced himself. Then he adopted a more serious expression as he launched into his breaking news: Project Dreamweaver was more than a rumor and Zander Anatolius was a former member.

Felix paused the replay, unable to stomach any more. Then, amazingly, all that anger swirling through his veins evaporated. Just up and deserted him, leaving him feeling like a torn-up grease rag and just as useless. He fought the urge to tuck his head into his chest and cry. Instead, abandoning the mug of coffee, he pushed off the wall holding him up and turned toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Nessa asked.

To fling myself out of an airlock?

Felix glanced over his shoulder at the doctor. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Unfolding her arms, Nessa studied him with those not-so-compassionate doctor eyes. "A few hours isn't going to make any difference, Fix. We need to skim some gas before we go anywhere outside of this system, anyway, and there's nothing we can do right now other than follow the original plan."

"How can you be so calm?"

Nessa flinched, his intended insult finding the target. "I've had a few hours to process the details," she threw back. "To discuss a plan with the rest of the crew."

Ouch.

"I'm here, Ness."

"You didn't vote to be on this mission, though, did you?"

"Damn it, you think I don't care what happens to Zed? I…" God, he was so tired of hurting, of trying to make things better only to succeed in making things worse. Fighting with his crew wasn't going to help him gain ground, or even traction. Swallowing, Felix waited for the ball of whatever to sink down his throat. He looked up from the grimy floor—had it been his turn to clean the mess?—and breathed out. "I'm trying, Ness. And you know I'd do anything for Zed. Anything. I thought…" He chewed on his lower lip. "I thought leaving for a while was the best thing. Really, I did. I'm not much fun right now."

"No kidding."

Felix sighed. "Are you going to tell me the plan? Or would you rather give me some more pills?"

"Would you take them if I offered them?"

He didn't have to think about it, even though his skin itched and his fingers were locked against involuntary spasm. "No." His hand shook as he reached for his coffee.

Rationally, Felix understood he was not at fault. That he could not have stopped Juston Dell or the AEF. But love wasn't rational. Hell, he knew that. Love couldn't be fit into a reliable pattern. If he was a rational being, he would be screaming instead of trying not to spill his coffee. He would be wrestling control of the ship from Qek and turning back to Alpha, sniffing out the AEF vapor trail and following Zed. His heart.

Or maybe that would be the irrational act.

"It's not my fault, is it? Because I left?"

"Oh, Fix. No. It's not your fault."

A not-so-subtle throat-clearing saved Felix from having to make any sort of sensible response. Marnie stood in the doorway, giving him the speculative eye. "If anything, it's my fault." He arched a brow at her, surprised by her willingness to take on a burden he considered his. "We antagonized the AEF at Petrel Station."

"I'm the one who stunned their people," he said.

"I'm the one who decided we needed to run in there and get Dieter."

Nessa broke in. "We all voted to be a part of that action. And if we hadn't been here, Dieter might have been captured, or worse."

"Regrets aren't going to get Zed out of the hands of the AEF," Felix said.

"No, they won't," Marnie agreed. "We're approaching Bosun. Ready to roll?"

"What's at Bosun?" Felix tried to place the name and couldn't. Last he remembered they were traveling to Balmoral System. Were they there yet?

"Dieter's asteroid." Perhaps sensing his internal confabulation, Marnie added, "We're in Balmoral."

"Have we scooped enough gas to leave?"

"Yes, but?—"

"Then we're going to Alpha." Felix tapped his bracelet. "Qek?"

"Yes, Fixer?"

"Set—"

Marnie's finger swiped through the holo interface, closing the connection.

"What the hell?"

"We can't take Dieter to Alpha."

The words "why not" clogged his throat as the passage closed. Felix knew why not and the argument between sense and sensibility was going to kill him. If his rising anger didn't get him first. His breath shortened and his vision swam with red.

Before he could explode, Marnie gripped his arm. "Felix." He shook her off, but she persisted, saying his name again.

"Don't tell me to calm the fuck down," he warned, voice thin and strained.

"I won't. But you're not going to like what I do have to say."

With a glare, he dared her to spill it anyway.

"Zed isn't on Alpha. When they arrested him, they took him off the station."

"Then where is he?"

"I don't know."

Bosun was a broken moon—what amounted to an asteroid field that had settled into a stable orbit around the largest planet in the Balmoral system. Apparently Dieter's asteroid—he called it Morrison—lay somewhere just off center.

"This field is playing havoc with our sensors," Felix said, poking the copilot's console.

"Are you using lidar or radar?" Marnie asked from behind him. Dieter's hover chair was wedged in beside her, making the bridge somewhat crowded.

"We have configured our sensors to optimize both technologies, strengthening the gain of that which proves more appropriate or efficient," Qek said.

"Nice." Marnie nudged the back of Felix's shoulder. "You still got it, Fl—Fix."

"Fixer has reprogramed nearly every system on this ship. With my help, of course."

Felix grunted. "Stay modest, Qek." He sideswiped a holo. "Do we have coordinates or are you going to let me waste time looking for this rock? I want to be here and gone."

A nicer person would have glanced over their shoulder, reassured their passenger with something banal like, "No offense, buddy."

Dieter spoke in his own defense. "Think of Bosun as a strategic relay point. I've got a pressurized dock with atmospheric control. Workshops and labs. While we search for Zed, we can add a few bells and whistles to your ride. Upgrade your comm so you don't have to ask permission to access jazers. And Marnie mentioned your shields could use some tweaking."

Felix didn't want to admit the man made sense, but, fuck it, he did. Especially as they still had no word on where Zed was being held.

Apparently not trusting him to arrive at that conclusion, however, Marnie said, "Zed's arrest is all over the news. The AEF can't just disappear him. They will need to conduct a very public trial and you can bet the Anatolius Industries lawyers are already all over it. We've got time. To find him and coordinate with his family. To make sure the Chaos is ready to intercede if necessary."

Grumbling, Felix tried to pluck a shred of faith from Marnie's assurances. He failed miserably. "Let's just get moving, okay?"

Coordinates splashed across his display, sent by Dieter.

"The debris field extends one thousand kilometers from our targeted asteroid," Qek said, studying the map. "Is there an approach you would recommend?"

"Sending that now," Dieter said. "Won't be a smooth ride in, but there is a sort of path…here, and here." Points flashed across the star map, quickly falling into two three-dimensional paths.

"Fixer, would you take us in?"

Felix glanced over at the pilot. "You're sure?" Anticipation of the challenge kicked a surge of adrenaline to his fingers and toes. He used to live for moments such as these, pitting wit and skill against an impossible course.

"You're better at quick course corrections than I am."

Meaning Felix didn't rely on the onboard navigation as much as Qek did, which was fine in the black—not so great in j-space.

"Okay."

Quickly and quietly, Felix fell into his own zone, one achieved not through some secret program but simply developed out of necessity. After a moment's surprise that he could still reach a state of uninterrupted reasoning, he began to work—fingers flying across his console, displays flashing up and down, skimming across the star chart as he moved and realigned them. Calculations unfolded across his mind's eye and he entered minute adjustments into their flight path, taking into account the drag that shouldn't exist in a vacuum. The exhaust from their craft shifted particles that ran into particles, though, and the outer edge of their shielding nudged more than dust aside.

Qek preferred to have a view of space outside the ship. Felix felt rather than saw the larger pieces of debris tumble past the view ports. He knew that if he looked up, he'd lose his perspective. When he did look up at last, their target loomed large, filling the view screens from end to end.

"Docking?"

A new set of coordinates unfolded across his display, and Felix immediately began his calculations, not waiting for Qek to engage the automatic sequences. A moment later, the Chaos danced nimbly to his touch, turning almost back on herself in order to duck "under" the asteroid. The view never changed, or not perceptibly. Rock filled every port, regardless of "up" or "down" until Felix input the final directives to turn the Chaos out from the asteroid so they could slide backward into the docking cave. Space doors irised open behind them, the view on his display. He barely glanced at it, relying instead on sensor pings. Then the doors shut, sealing the corvette in a dim chamber lit by a docking path, above and below. The lights glowed more brightly as the atmosphere exchangers pressurized the bay. Felix concentrated on locking the Chaos to one side of the solitary pier.

When he looked up again, they were locked, and external readings indicated the large chamber had an atmosphere. Felix breathed out, and for the first time in days his thoughts didn't scatter. His fingers had lost their tremble. His chest didn't ache—until he thought about it, then a twinge shot down through his center, but not to linger. He felt purposeful. Useful. Not quite as broken.

Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Marnie's eye and saw she knew it, too. That subtle shift in perspective. Rather than acknowledge it, he turned away. The small bubble of peace he'd found stayed with him, though, even as he acknowledged it wouldn't last.