Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

T hey started with the "we're all friends here, just talk to us" attitude. Zed had never been called on to fill the role of galactic cop, as some AEF officers did, but he'd had the training on how to conduct interrogations. What they tossed at him was textbook good cop/bad cop.

Just help us and we'll make sure you're back on Alpha in no time.

Goddamn it, Anatolius, man up and accept the consequences.

All I need is just a bit of information and I can get you the water you asked for.

Tell us the truth! Where is Dieter Sorge?

Don't you want to do the right thing, Major Anatolius ?

It was all bullshit. Zed had known when Bradley's grunts had slapped the cuffs on, that was it. In their eyes, he'd violated the terms of his release from service, and that was what they'd announce publicly, lack of evidence or no. They'd paint him to be a traitor, selling AEF secrets to that asshole reporter, conveniently ignoring the millions of credits in his account and his total lack of need to earn more.

And yes, the AEF might be beyond pissed that the secrets of the project got leaked, but that was only an excuse. The real issue here was that he wasn't dead, and that was a fucking massive inconvenience for the AEF. They wanted all evidence of their experiments gone—but first, they wanted to know how he was still alive.

Zed refused to talk. He'd been trained to be on this side of the table. It was tempting to recite only his name, rank and serial number, but he settled instead for just keeping his mouth shut. He trusted Brennan—he knew his brother would be working his ass off to get him out of here, even if every effort was accompanied by cursing Zed's name. He'd come through.

"Last time, Mr. Anatolius." The good cop sighed. They'd dropped the "major" from in front of his name a while back. Zed wasn't sure if it was an insult or not. "What treatment did you undergo on Ashushk Prime? What information did you share with them?"

Zed just stared at them.

"Fucking waste of time," the bad cop muttered. He rose from his seat, stretching out the vertebrae in his back. "Maybe we should pick up what's-his-name, your boyfriend. Ingesson."

Zed tried to keep his face impassive but he couldn't quite manage it. His brows lowered and his jaw tightened.

"Oh, now, that got a reaction." The bad cop grinned. "We could charge him with aiding and abetting. How'd you like that?"

"I don't think we need to bring Ingesson in," Good Cop said, his tone reasonable. "That's going a little far."

"No, what's going a little far is this asshole selling secrets to a reporter." Bad Cop moved around the table and kicked at the leg of Zed's chair. "And telling the ashies all sorts of classified shit. Do you not understand the importance of security clearance, Mr. Anatolius? Galactic secrecy?"

God, he wanted to tell Bad Cop exactly what he could expect if they brought in Flick. But even the slight reaction he'd already given was ammunition enough. He stared at Bad Cop, trying to keep his face impassive even as emotions roiled behind his mask. If they kept poking at him about Flick, he wasn't going to be held responsible for his reaction.

Goddamn it, Bren. Work faster.

Felix ground his teeth until he tasted dust. Still, he couldn't swallow the curses piling up on the back of his tongue. "Shit and triple shit!"

"What happened to double shit?"

Felix shot Elias a look. Now is not the time . Then again, now could be the time because he'd been holed up in the bridge of the Chaos for untold hours—at least two if the creak of his joints measured time with any accuracy. If he didn't take a break soon, he was likely to do more harm than good to the communication array. He wasn't in the right frame of mind to tinker, and the upgrade hadn't consumed him as he had hoped it might. Stopping work to listen in on chatter every fifteen minutes hadn't helped his progress, either. So far, there had been no useful word from Alpha or Ryan, though, unless you believed in the bullshit of no news being good news.

He unfolded his legs, winced as blood burned a path down the back of his calves, and leaned over the console he'd been cursing to wait for the inevitable dizzy spell.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Did you come in here just to hassle me?" He'd give Elias another look, but black spots were dancing in front of his eyes.

"Sure, why not?" Elias's voice moved closer. "C'mon, a break will shake something loose. Then you can come back in here and sleep with the comm array if you need to."

"What time is it?"

"Dinnertime and Ness cooked."

"Cooked what? Is there a secret garden inside this rock somewhere?"

"Nope, just a well-stocked dee-hi." They had a small unit that extracted moisture from food for long-term storage aboard the Chaos but stopped regularly enough that they rarely used it.

As Elias led him back through the ship toward the main cargo bay, Felix realized he'd started following without issuing further complaint. That he immediately began searching for an objection—any objection—depressed him. Had he always been such an asshole? He turned his thoughts toward his crew. "How is everyone, um, doing?"

Elias glanced over his shoulder, surprise evident in the widening of his eyes. "Did you just take your head out of your ass for a second?"

"Maybe. Want to record the moment?"

"I probably should."

Felix snorted. "No one will believe you otherwise, right?"

"You know, you're not as broken as you pretend to be."

"What does that mean?" They'd reached Cargo One and his voice echoed in the empty chamber.

"It means that you're still here, still kicking, and when you remember that, you're a lot easier to be around."

"And here I thought y'all had left me alone on the bridge because you could use a break."

"Not going to deny that." A familiar grin flashed across Elias's face. "We were sort of hoping you'd figure out the communication upgrade too."

"Working on it." When not listening for news. "If Marnie had given me a board and some code even a year ago, I might have been able to slot it in, no hassles." Felix gripped his nape and the ache nudging the back of his skull eased somewhat. "I've implemented so many side grades between now and then that it's just going to be easier to uninstall the comm system software and upload a new copy."

"Side grades?"

Being able to activate comms throughout the ship, one way, so he could eavesdrop. Shit like that. Did Elias suspect…? Felix shrugged away the thought. "The panels in our quarters shouldn't hiss when someone flushes the forward head when I'm done."

"Good to know."

The much larger space of the asteroid docking bay muted the sound of their voices, and as they crossed into the corridor leading directly to the living quarters, Felix fell easily into chatter with Elias. A weird calm enveloped him, despite the urgency that formed the pulse of his days—of every hour spent apart from Zed, of every minute Zed spent in the custody of the AEF. The guilt that poked constantly softened, just a touch. The loud and bitter recrimination that filled his thoughts quieted. He might almost be his regular old self, except for that blank space in his chest.

He'd been given a tour of the asteroid when they'd arrived twelve hours ago. The place was well appointed, as far as hollowed-out rocks went. If they succeeded in rounding up the remaining members of Project Dreamweaver, it would make a great hideout. Plenty of small apartments, a well-equipped central kitchen, med bay and laboratory, several workshops and a number of empty spaces that could be turned to any purpose with a few judicious credits.

He followed Elias into the dining hall adjacent to the kitchen. Dieter and Qek glanced up from overlapping holo displays.

"Captain Sorge has a shield upgrade routine that might be compatible with our forward array," Qek said.

"What about the back half of the ship?" Elias asked.

"Assuming you're not planning on entering a combat situation, the rear emitters can be upgraded with this scramble tech a friend and I were playing with before I was drafted for Dreamweaver," Dieter said.

"The Chaos doesn't have any onboard armaments. So, no, we're not planning on entering any combat situations." Elias had started out addressing Dieter, but by the time he finished speaking he was looking at Felix.

Felix scowled.

The scent of food wafted into the room. Nessa followed, bearing a tray. Felix stepped up to help her steady her load—six bowls of something hot and steamy—and she flashed him a quick smile. Felix had just set the tray down when Marnie entered the dining hall from the opposite direction, wrist out, holo flickering overtop. "I just heard from Ryan."

Fucking typical. The minute he'd walked away from the comm array, the call had come through. "What's the news?"

The serious cast of her features indicated it wasn't good, as in the AEF had not released him with an apology and a pat on the head.

"Zed's aboard the Cambridge ."

"That's…" Not bad news, unless you counted Zed being incarcerated aboard the most secure drift in the galaxy as bad. Felix's mind went blank, then rebooted with several questions that demanded answers all at once. "Where is the Cambridge ? Can Ryan get to him? Is his location public?—"

"Whoa, slow down. The Cambridge is in Sol. Out past Jupiter's orbit, apparently. They probably took him straight there. No, his location has not been disclosed, which is why this comm from Ryan is so important."

"The Cambridge is in Sol?" Felix pushed back up out of his chair. "Then we have to go back there."

"Sit back down before you fall down. Eat something and we'll start planning what we're going to do."

We . Right, he was part of a crew. He'd used the same we seconds earlier, but now the word echoed in the back of his brain. What if he changed it to an I ? I need to equip those shield upgrades and then I need to get the fuck off this rock. Would it count as theft if he stole his own ship?

The door to the interrogation room popped open. Zed expected to see Good Cop and Bad Cop again, as he had for the past…however long it had been. It was tough to track time on a ship, especially when the light level stayed the same in his cell. They'd fallen into something of a routine—the cops tag-teamed him, he ignored them, everyone had a wonderful time until the metaphorical buzzer dinged and they took him back to his cell. Instead of the two cops, though, a familiar figure stepped into the room. General Bradley.

He hid his surprise. Though he'd been delivered to the Cambridge by his former CO, he hasn't expected the man to hang around. Interrogation wasn't his thing—too far below his paygrade. Did they think Zed would talk to Bradley when he wouldn't talk to the tag-team duo? Maybe. Zed couldn't deny that there was still a twang of loyalty in his head when he thought of his CO. Bradley wasn't a bad man, he was just caught in a shitty situation.

But…maybe he was here for a different reason?

Zed straightened in his chair, trying not to get too far ahead of himself. "Sir."

Bradley grimaced at the manacles around his wrists, but made no move to get rid of them. "Quite the pickle you've gotten yourself into."

The tiny spark of hope that Bradley had been there to free him sputtered and died. "Yes, sir."

The general arranged one of the chairs, moving it to the side so he could face Zed without the table between them, and settled into it. A gust of air flowed from him, almost a sigh, as he inspected Zed.

"You know why you're here."

Zed clamped his mouth shut and raised his chin.

"Why is it such a big deal? The ashies obviously figured something out, something that could help your teammates. Why keep it a secret? Why fake your death?"

Zed kept his lips pressed tightly together. The Guardians had never said he couldn't tell anyone about their involvement, but he didn't want to tell Bradley. Not like this, in an interrogation room, where everything that came out of his mouth would be suspect anyway. The AEF already thought he was a liar—telling them the Guardians had resurrected his ass wouldn't change that opinion.

"You know what the next step would be, usually. Don't you?" Bradley leaned back into his chair, his arms crossed.

A prisoner who wouldn't talk would be given special incentive to do so. Torture wasn't humane, but then, war tended to file down the levels of what wasn't acceptable until anything was okay, as long as you got results.

"Don't make them do this, Zed." Had the man ever called him by his first name? Certainly not like that, in a pleading, concerned tone, with his voice almost shaking in desperation. Chills skittered down Zed's spine.

Damn it, they were seriously going to take that next step, weren't they? If he didn't speak to Bradley, the next person who walked through that door was going to be one of the specialists the AEF would never admit to having in their employ. A torturer, someone skilled in how to dish out pain, breaking down walls and resistance. Maybe he should just give in. The Guardians had never said it was a secret—they'd called him proof . He was the evidence that the races in the galaxy were not so different. Essences of them could coexist in the same body.

He couldn't imagine the warm presence that had brushed his mind would want him to withstand torture to keep that a secret.

But what proof did he have, other than the cuff on his wrist, just barely visible beneath the manacles? They'd tried removing it when he came on board, but Zed had no idea how to do so and the AEF techs hadn't figured it out, either. So it remained, placid and inert, nothing more than a decoration. Certainly it didn't appear Guardian-like. So even if he said something, they wouldn't believe him. They wouldn't even consider it. History insisted that the Guardians didn't intervene in that manner. To stop wars, sure. To save civilizations from extinction, yeah. Not to save one individual man.

Talking wouldn't save him, so he might as well stay silent. Lips pressed together, Zed shook his head.

Bradley sighed and scuffed his hands through his hair. He rose slowly, reluctantly. Emotions flickered through his dark eyes, emotions Zed had never seen on the hard man before. He looked strangely vulnerable, as if a stiff breeze would be too much for him to take.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft. Then he turned and left the room.

Zed barely had time to catch his breath before the door opened again, bringing with it another familiar figure. This one wasn't nearly as welcome a sight as Bradley. In fact, if Zed had never seen her again in his life, he could have died a very happy man.

Dr. Carlisle Preston appeared much as she had during his final medical exam before the AEF cut him and his team loose. She'd been their guide—and their nemesis—during Project Dreamweaver, the one responsible for all the tests and procedures that changed them into something more than human. Her caramel-colored hair was swept back on the sides, with loose curls cascading down to her shoulders. Her eyes were rich and warm—at first glance, no one would expect she was as cold and efficient as a droid.

As far as he knew, Preston had no off-the-books training as a specialist . But then…everyone knew Zed would be resistant to traditional methods.

Shit . This was not good.

"Carly." Good. Judging by the narrowing eyes, she still hated that name.

"Major Anatolius." Ever task-focused, Preston pulled a couple of items from the pockets of her white SFT jacket and placed them on the table. A hypo-syringe, like the sort Nessa favored, and a knife. Zed's jaw flexed. She left them there for a moment, standing on the other side of the table, and just let him look at them.

Zed drew in a deep breath. He could do this. He could withstand this. "Party time, huh."

"I doubt this will feel much like a party, Major. You have a particular resistance to pain and the officers in charge of this interrogation have asked me to mitigate it." Those warm eyes glittered and not for the first time, Zed wondered if the good doctor was a bit of a sadist. It would explain a lot. "A specialist could cut you with this blade and you'd just retreat into the Zone and ride it out. You'd pay for it, of course. Still suffering the migraines? You got them the worst of anyone."

Zed stayed silent.

"But that's not what I'm going to do." She lifted the knife in her right hand and the syringe in her left. "Remember Cain?"

A sharp breath jerked past Zed's lips.

"You do. Good. It was a shame about him. But we learned, right? From then on, we made sure the ritual only happened when you were all healthy and pain-free. But that didn't mean we didn't file away that intel. Just in case."

Distracted by the doctor's words and memories of one of the Project Dreamweaver participants who didn't survive the training, Zed didn't read the tensing and bunching of Preston's muscles until it was too late. She whipped the knife downward and it flew through the air, slicing into Zed's bare foot. Zed barely had time to register the sudden onslaught of pain before Preston stabbed the syringe into his neck. Biting, stinging liquid slipped into his veins, a sensation Zed remembered. Hated. Feared.

Fucking bitch did not just inject me with the stin poison. Please, God.

"What—" Zed gasped as his vision grayed out, then returned, too bright, too harsh. The pain in his foot suddenly intensified, igniting into an inferno a thousand times worse than the original injury.

"Your interrogators will be back later." Preston reached down and yanked the knife out of Zed's foot. Zed screamed as the pain jolted up into realms he'd never known he could experience. "I suggest you speak to them. Enjoy your trip, Major."

The doctor's words ebbed and flowed, almost drowned out by the waves of agony shooting through Zed's body. Her white-coated silhouette wavered and broke apart, then came back together again. Zed reached out and watched his fingers separate from his hand and fly toward her, begging when the rest of him couldn't move.

Not real. Hallucination, it's a hallucination.

That soft thought didn't stop him from trying to collect his fingers and put them back where they belonged. Except his body didn't want to obey him. He made the mistake of shifting his injured foot. Fire raced up his leg, burning him inside, everywhere, growing white-hot, blue, and Zed knew, he knew it was going to burn him up, burn him out, destroy him entirely…

His screams rang in his ears and ripped his throat, and he couldn't stop .

Felix switched off the striplight and closed the supply room door, wincing at the quiet hiss that might betray his presence in the asteroid's docking bay. He didn't want to leave with any of Dieter's equipment, though. He wasn't that much of a rogue. Quietly, he picked his way back along the catwalk to the small pier that served the bay's only inhabitant, the Chaos .

"Don't even think about it."

Felix started at the sound of Elias's voice but did not turn. Instead, he put a hand on the side of his ship. The ceramix plates were cool against his palm, around the same temperature of the inside of the asteroid. They'd been here long enough for the Chaos 's internal and external temperature to equalize, meaning the drive would also be cool. Not ideal.

Elias wasn't going to let him leave alone, though, and if he was honest with himself, Felix would admit that he hadn't really wanted to go alone, without his crew, or his captain. The man he counted as brother and best friend. But neither could the pull toward Zed be denied.

"Upgrades are done." Report delivered, now for the plea. "I need to be there. I can't sit here while Ryan gathers information and Brennan hurls legal objections. I know everyone is doing everything that can be done, but the AEF don't play by the same rules as the Anatolius family. This isn't going to be a legal battle. The AEF aren't going to let Zed go."

"So you think flying in there, shields blazing—because, face it, that's all you've got to throw at a military drift —is going to make a difference."

"I can't hurt the Cambridge , I know that. Hell, I might not even be able to sneak aboard?—"

" That was your plan? Holy hell, are you high?"

Felix flattened his palm against the side of the ship, pushing into it with all his strength. Still, he could feel the tremble in his fingers, the itch across his shoulders and that weird twitch at the base of his spine. He didn't know if he craved oblivion of the chemical kind or the actual kind. If love drove him, or the memories beating against his skull had finally driven him to madness. All he knew was that he needed to be with Zed. That he'd been wrong to leave.

You're not as broken as you pretend to be.

Oh, but he was.

"Not high." He hadn't taken a single pill since they'd arrived at the asteroid. "Just wrecked. The stin broke me into too many pieces. You did a good job putting me back together, but the cracks are still all there. Zed's death…"

"Fix…fuck." He could hear Elias pacing back and forth on the decking. "Man, I should just let you go. Write off my half of the ship, my life. Curse the day I let Zander Bloody Anatolius walk on board."

A quiet sound interrupted Elias's rant. Then a moist breath. Felix squeezed his eyes shut and remained resolutely turned away. If he looked Elias in the eye, saw even a hint of a tear?—

"But I'm not going to. Wanna know why? Because this is my ship, too. You're part of my crew. Might not mean anything to you anymore, but it means everything to me. What we've built together is my life. And what we're doing right now means something. We're not just shipping shit and tracing skips—though I've a damn mind to list one for you, you bastard. Where is the Felix I signed a partnership deed with? Where is my little brother?"

"I'm right here." But his voice sounded weak, even reflected back by the plating on the side of the Chaos . His ship, their ship.

"Then turn around and tell me what you want. Tell me to my face that you're gonna cut and run again."

Felix whirled around. "I'm not running this time. I'm going back to Sol, to where I'm supposed to be!"

"And leaving your crew behind. Don't you trust us?"

"Of course I do, but I don't…you don't…shit." He bowed inward and scrubbed at his eyes, finding them dry, which didn't surprise him. He had nothing left to give. "I'm so sick of fighting with everyone."

"Then just stop. Let us in. Stop treating us like the enemy. It's not as if you have a lot of friends. You need us. We're on the same damned side. At least, I thought we were." Elias gestured toward the ship. "If you take her, that will be it. I won't stop you, but we'll be done, man. I won't follow you. You can be a skip without a trace. Is that what you really want?"

"I…" Felix shut his mouth and looked at the man who really might be his only friend. He had other acquaintances, and he supposed there were a handful of people in the galaxy who thought of themselves as his friends. Marnie, Ryan, Theo from specialist training. He had his crew. Eli, Ness and Qek.

He didn't know if he had Zed. For all his obsessiveness over that one man, he didn't know if he truly had him—as a friend, as all the more he wanted so desperately.

And that was the thing that pulled him apart. Had been splitting him in two for the past however many days.

He dropped his gaze to the deck. "I…I love him, Eli. I've never loved anyone but him. He's left me so many times, but I still love him. It's stupid and it's insane and I know that throwing away everything for this one man would be the worst thing I could ever do, but I don't want to lose him again. I don't think I can do it all again." He sucked in breath on a quavering note. "I know I can't do it again."

Elias's sudden hug rocked him backward. Warm arms squeezed him tight, and though suddenly made breathless, Felix didn't struggle against the hold. He hugged back, tightly. He wrapped his arms around his only friend and held on for all he was worth.

"I know you love him, you stupid git. God, why do you think we're all here, doing all of this. He's ours too. C'mon. You need six hours of real sleep and then we'll talk about maybe getting closer to Sol."

Real sleep. Despite the fact the asteroid had over a dozen unoccupied beds, Felix hadn't taken advantage of a single one. He'd been working. Upgrading the comm system, reprogramming the shield emitters. Keeping himself busy, active and engaged.

"Need to do more than talk about it."

"We'll do more than talk about it, I promise."