Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Sazahk was indeed unhappy to see the tall, lean figure in flowing robes standing at the lab window that overlooked the Dead Zone. The sight of his older brother's rigid posture, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, and his long, perfect hair cascading impeccably down his spine put a lump in Sazahk's stomach.

He considered turning around and leaving before Serihk acknowledged his presence, but he'd seen Serihk's brutal-looking klah'eel bodyguard on the way in and he wouldn't put it past his brother to have instructed the woman to drag Sazahk back in by his hair if he tried to escape the conversation.

After all, it wouldn't have been the first time Sazahk had been forcibly taken against his will on his brother's watch.

The dismal fantasy ended when Serihk turned around and dropped his imperious gaze onto Sazahk. "Brother, I'm pleased to see you've once again walked unscathed from an impossibly dangerous situation."

"It is highly doubtful that my cells are unscathed given my amount of exposure to the persistent organic pollutants lingering within the soil of the Dead Zone." Sazahk still felt no taller than his brother's knees when his brother arched his eyebrow in that way he always did when Sazahk disagreed. "Your inability or unwillingness to observe the harm doesn't render it nonexistent."

Serihk heaved a heavy sigh. "Of course not." He left the window to stand in front of Sazahk. "But seeing as you're not being rushed to a hospital or running any urgent tests on yourself, I assume it's safe to say you're relatively uninjured."

"If it makes you feel better." Sazahk brushed past his brother to get to a blood-drawing station. They weren't urgent, but he did want to run some tests on himself.

And on Garin.

Sazahk's already tight chest constricted. It was unlikely he'd get the chance for that.

Serihk followed Sazahk to the bank of tubes and needles. "What would make me feel better is you reporting that the Dead Zone is, or can be imminently made, habitable for the Insects."

Dark blue spilled out across Sazahk's forearm, and he looked up from inserting a needle into his vein to scowl at his brother. "That is impossible to report at this stage in my research. I returned from my expedition less than an hour ago, my samples are still packed in my bag, I have numerous tests to run, to say nothing of the tests I have yet to devise to?—"

"What do you need?" Serihk's commanding voice sliced through Sazahk's protestations and Sazahk stopped, mouth still open.

He'd forgotten what that felt like.

To be interrupted.

Garin had never done that. Not once. Not when Sazahk had rambled on in his excitement about an unexpected mineral, or when he'd mused about the possible social structure of the Fauna A, not even when Sazahk had berated him and Garin had turned red with frustration.

He blinked and licked his lips, his limbs suddenly heavy. "What?"

"What do you need to draw a firm conclusion on the fitness of the Dead Zone for the Insects?" Serihk's jaw shimmered with green as he tilted it. "Different equipment? More equipment? Personnel? Access?"

"Dom." Sazahk looked back down at his arm and slid the tip of the needle into his blood vessel. He watched his blood spurt into the clear tubing and dribble into the vial.

Serihk responded after a long pause. "By ‘Dom' do you mean Dominic Turner?"

"Yes." Sazahk capped off the vial, slid the needle out, and applied pressure to the insertion point where a pinprick of blood welled out. "He's the only person in the sector with the sort of experience and scientific acumen I need to flesh out my findings, evaluate potential strategies, and execute on?—"

"Are you fucking serious right now, Sazahk?" Serihk's explosive roar yanked Sazahk's head up and he almost dropped the cotton bandage he pressed to the bleeding crook of his elbow. Serihk spun around and stalked back to the window, pressing his forefingers to his temples. "Dominic Turner?"

"Yes." Sazahk stared at his brother. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen him yell. "For all the reasons I listed and more."

"Dominic fucking Turner. It always comes back to the fucking Turners, doesn't it?" Serihk rubbed his temples, his head bowed. His ribcage expanded as he heaved deep breaths. "Do you know why this report is so important right now?"

"Because if you can't promise a new home to the Insects, they'll take yours?" Sazahk wrapped a clumsy bandage around his elbow and stuck his vial of blood in the multi-purpose analysis machine.

"Ours," Serihk corrected. "And no, it's better than that." Serihk turned away from the window, the red of his fury fading. "That report is important because it is the only nonviolent forcing function I can use to push these negotiations forward."

"Negotiations?" Sazahk watched the machine whir to life and the heaviness in his limbs settled deeper, pinning him to his stool. He wanted to go to bed. An hour ago, he'd been excited to spend the rest of the day and the following night in his lab. But an hour ago he thought he'd be doing it with one of his only friends while Garin hovered and tried to make them eat. He hadn't thought he'd be alone except for his tyrannical brother berating him again for failing to grasp what was truly important. "What is there to negotiate?"

"Everything apparently." Serihk paced to one side of the small lab and turned on his heel. "All three species states must agree to allow a former and potentially future hostile entity to settle in the sector. And can you guess which species state is the hold out?"

Sazahk could, in fact, guess. "The Humans."

"And can you guess which prominent Human voice is leading this inane display of obstructionism?"

Sazahk could easily guess that as well. "Alistair Turner."

"Alistair Turner," Serihk confirmed, hissing the name out as though the loathing in his voice might poison the man himself. "Because it always comes back to the damn Turner men."

Sazahk pressed his lips together. One simple thing he'd asked of his all-powerful brother and all the great Emissary Serihk did was fume and scoff. "I have had very pleasant experiences with both Oliver and Dominic Turner."

Serihk ceased his pacing to give Sazahk a dry look. "You always have had an impeccable taste in companions."

Sazahk's aching weariness burned up into frustration at the slight to the cartel that had taken him in and he leapt from his stool. "If that's everything, Serihk, then, as pleasant as it always is to see you and receive these wonderful reminders of my inferiority and constant capacity to disappoint, I need to eat food that does not come out of a tube, and I need to wash off this dirt that is likely mutating my genes as we speak." He stormed toward the door, no longer caring about the klah'eel stationed on the other side of it. "I can't provide you a report, and you can't provide me Dominic Turner, so?—"

"I can provide you your implant."

Sazahk's feet stuck to the ground.

The words sank in slowly and as they did, Sazahk's heart pounded in his chest.

He swallowed. " My implant?"

" Your implant," Serihk said clearly.

Sazahk looked over his shoulder and met his brother's eyes.

"And a pardon as well." Serihk walked around a lab table to stand beside him. "You've held up your side of the bargain. You've aided your country in this crisis with the Insects. And we all know you'll be an even greater asset once you've been made whole again."

Whole again. To get a piece of his mind back. And a pardon. Vindication. Security. Freedom. Sazahk searched his brother's face. "Where are the strings attached?"

"No strings." Serihk shook his head. "Your implant. Re-inserted. Your criminal record wiped."

"Access to the Archives?"

"Re-instated."

Hope, cautious and frightened, flickered in Sazahk's chest. He'd given up on ever getting that part of himself back a long time ago. He'd thought he'd live out the rest of his days crippled. He hadn't accepted it, exactly, but he'd considered it the most likely outcome. Even when the Senate had approached him with the deal offering him his implant in exchange for returning to study the Insect threat, he hadn't adjusted his prediction. He hadn't dared.

Serihk's cheeks darkened with pink and he lay a long hand on Sazahk's forearm. "The procedure can be performed as soon as you arrive on Tazal Station."

Sazahk jerked his arm away. "Why do I need to go to Tazal? The procedure can be performed here."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sazahk. It can't be performed here." Serihk glanced around at the lab, and through his eyes, Sazahk saw the thin layer of yellow dust that settled on everything throughout the dry compound. "They're cutting open your brainstem."

Sazahk's scar spasmed with pain and he barely resisted grabbing it. "On Qesha then. Our cities have the best hospitals in the sector. You can hardly argue that?—"

"Your implant is already on Tazal. There's no point in wasting time flying you and it to a hospital on the other side of the planet when we can simply fly you to it." But then Serihk hesitated, a mere moment, a single twitch of his eyebrow to give him away, and Sazahk jumped on it.

"And something else." Sazahk clenched his fists as he studied his brother's face. He'd pushed his colors away like he always did when he was hiding something, or trying to be in control. "You want me on Tazal, don't you?"

"Yes, Sazahk, fine. And also I want you on Tazal." Serihk's jaw ticked. "That is where the negotiations are taking place and I need you on hand to brief the politicians on why they need to allow the Insects to settle, why here, and why now."

Sazahk shook his head as he stepped back. "I don't want?—"

"By the goddess, Sazahk." Serihk ground his thumb and forefingers into his temples again. "You wanted your implant, I've gotten it for you. You wanted to study the Dead Zone and the Insects, and I've gotten that for you. Can you please just show up and do your part?"

Sazahk's hands shook, and he tangled his fingers behind his back before Serihk saw them. He didn't want to be on Tazal Station, stuck on an inescapable floating war machine stuffed full of people who saw him as a monster that needed to be controlled while they held him down and cut him open again. "I?—"

Serihk dropped his hand from his face. "I'll arrange for your Klah'Eel squad to go up with you. Will that help?"

Sazahk pictured Patrick and Fal'ran striding ahead of him, Bar'in at his side, and Tar at his back, and his fingers stopped shaking. He nodded.

"Good." Serihk's posture loosened, and he dipped his chin. "I'll have a transport ship sent for you tomorrow morning."

The weight of exhaustion crashed onto Sazahk's shoulders. He'd barely returned. He'd walked through the gates less than an hour ago, and he'd be departing again in half a day?

"And Sazahk?" Serihk paused beside Sazahk as he swept toward the exit. "You may not believe me, but I really am glad you didn't die out there."

The exhaustion prevented the bitterness on Sazahk's tongue from forming into words and he didn't reply as Serihk left him alone in his lab. Of course his brother was glad he wasn't dead. He hadn't redeemed himself yet, nor gotten Serihk the leverage he needed in his negotiations. The family couldn't have Sazahk dying while he remained a stain on their record. He needed that pardon first.

Garin wouldn't think so.

Sazahk left the blood-analysis machine to its work and trudged out into the hall. Garin thought Sazahk already improved the galaxy. He was already glad Sazahk had been born. At least, that's what he'd said.

Sazahk dragged himself and his pack to his quarters. He shouldn't think about what Garin had said before he'd walked off without a second look back. It hurt and Sazahk's chest already ached. His whole body ached.

He made it to his room without running into any of his squad mates and shut the door behind himself. His room was exactly as he'd left it, strewn about with clothes and tools and tablets and papers.

He sat on his bed and dropped his pack between his feet.

Staring down into it, his sore heart throbbed. His pack wasn't how he'd left it. It was exquisitely organized. Every tool and item had a place that made sense, every microscope was lovingly tucked away into a soft piece of clothing to protect it.

His throat burning, Sazahk overturned his pack and dumped its contents onto the floor.

"Dominic Turner, I am boarding your ship and when I do, you'd better have a damn good reason for sitting here outside your stepfather's security perimeter."

But Garin was livid no matter what the reason.

"Garin?" Dom's voice, shocked and heart-tugging-ly hopeful, crackled through the speakers on the ship's control panel as Garin maneuvered around an asteroid. "How did you find me?"

Garin breathed out a silent sigh of relief at the unharmed sound of Dom's voice. When he'd seen the young man's signal pinging from beside a known Wate Group space station, his heart had frozen in his chest. He'd have bet every one of his Turner Corporation stock options that Dom had been kidnapped by their archrival. That Dom's mother had left their family to marry Andrew Wate, the Wate Group's founder, hadn't made Garin feel any better.

But Dom sounded just fucking fine, which begged the question of what the hell he thought he was doing!

"Dominic Turner, I have so many trackers on you I could find you in the Andromeda galaxy." Garin circled around to the dark side of the space rock and spied the ship he'd been hunting hidden in a shadow.

"You shouldn't have come." Dom's voice hardened into prideful petulance. But as Garin approached, the boarding clamps extended to meet him, ready to connect Garin's borrowed Klah'Eel ship to Dom's.

"Can it with that shit, Dom." Garin let the autopilot dock and unstrapped himself from his seat. He pulled his sidearm as he strode to the airlock. Despite Dom's tone, Garin wasn't completely convinced his charge wasn't under duress. Both ships were small vessels designed for crews of two max, so by the time he approached the airlock doors, they hissed open.

On the other side stood Dom, his arms crossed, and his feet planted. "I'm serious, Garin. There are reasons I don't want you here."

"Yeah? And what are those?" Garin's gaze swept the ship's interior as he boarded it, but it looked empty other than Dom. So, he holstered his weapon again and turned his attention to Dom himself, circling around him and sweeping his eyes up and down the young man. He wasn't injured, and he didn't look sick, but he had bags under his icy blue eyes, and he kept rubbing the fabric of his sleeve between his right thumb and forefinger. He was stressed. Anxious, even more than he usually was, and probably out of sorts from all the chemicals he'd been injecting himself with to survive his mad dashes around the sector.

"I can't let you stop me, and I don't have time to fight you." Dom swiveled around to face Garin as Garin circled him, his hands tightening over his biceps.

"Stop you from doing what exactly?" Garin turned away from Dom to walk the perimeter of the small ship, checking for anything out of place that might explain Dom's cagey behavior. The younger man had been quite the busy bee the last few days, flitting between the Turner estate and home ships, then various Turner labs, before ending here, lurking behind an asteroid beside an insignificant Wate Group relay server station. "What have you been up to?"

Dom didn't reply, and when Garin stopped his surveying to study him, he was twisting up the fabric of his sleeves in his nervous hands.

"Dominic." Garin lowered his voice into the tone he used with the twins when they gave him the same guilty look. He crossed his arms in a sterner mirror of Dom's posture. "What have you been up to?"

Dominic shifted away from Garin with a wariness Garin didn't like. "You're contractually obligated to safeguard my physical person, right? Not Turner Corporation business interests?"

Not for the first time, Garin wanted to punch Alistair Turner in the mouth for raising sons that couldn't comprehend being cared for. "I'm not even contractually obligated to protect you right now. Technically, I'm assigned to Sazahk until further notice. But more importantly, Dominic, I would never put Turner business interests ahead of your safety, or hell, even your well-being or happiness."

Dom's arms loosened across his chest.

At the sight of his drooping stance, Garin released the tension in his own arms. Oliver wouldn't have believed him, but Dom did. Or he wanted to believe him so much it had the same effect.

"What did you do, Dom?"

"I…" Dom dropped his hands to his sides and rubbed his palms against the fabric of his pants. "I deleted all of my research."

That…hadn't been the answer Garin expected. He wasn't even sure what that meant. "Your research on what?"

"On everything I should have never done it on." Dom waved one hand around and pushed the other into his dark hair as he walked back to the small ship's cockpit to drop himself into the pilot's seat. "Everything in our defense division."

Garin tried to absorb that thought and its implications, but he kept getting stuck on the absurd magnitude of the statement. "You deleted it?"

"Yes." Dom leaned back in the chair, hand still in his hair.

"All of it?"

"Yes." Dom tugged one last lock of his hair, then let his arm fall limply over the armrest.

"That doesn't—You can't just—" Garin shook his head. "There are backups of backups?—"

"Not anymore, there aren't." Dom tapped his fingers against the chair. "That weapons data forms the financial core of our entire corporation." His head fell to the side and his lips twisted as he looked at the floor. "Formed. It formed the financial core of our entire corporation. For security's sake, it was only stored in a few places." He met Garin's eyes again. "And now it's stored in none of them."

Garin stared at him.

He assumed those few places had been the Turner Estate and home ships and the labs Dom had traveled between so fast he must have shot up whole gallons of high-speed chemicals to survive the pressure of the g's.

But what Dom was saying was massive beyond comprehension.

"Dominic." Garin sat in the copilot's chair and spun it to face Dom. "You're saying that all the research you and your teams have done on weapons and other defense systems for the Turner Corporation in the past several years, including blueprints and schematics, the primary product of your family's business, is gone? You destroyed it?"

Dom turned his chair to face Garin head on, their knees bumping. He looked into Garin's eyes, his own blue ones wide but clear. "Yes."

Garin's heart stopped in his chest. "Holy shit, Dominic."

Holy shit. Why did the Turner boys always fall off the deep end on his watch?

He blew out a breath, feeling light-headed as his heart resumed beating. "Why?"

"Because the world is better off without it." Dominic shrugged his shoulders up high. He picked up an old-style paper notebook from the console and set it in his lap, folding and unfolding the worn corner of his current page. "Because I never should have done it in the first place, and it was my responsibility to undo it."

"Okay…" Garin didn't feel like that particularly answered his question.

"You're wondering why I suddenly give a shit now." Dom folded the corner of the page in on itself until it wouldn't fold any farther.

"I mean…yeah, I am." Garin didn't disagree with Dom's reasoning about the world being better off without his work. His time in the military hadn't made him fond of the implements of war. Quite the opposite. But he hadn't realized Dom had been on the precipice of such a moral reckoning. "I know you've regretted the fear gas you sold the Klah'Eel, but I didn't know you'd been planning such drastic recourse."

Dom sighed and dropped his chin, halting his paper folding. "I hadn't been."

"This was a spur-of-the-moment thing, then?" Garin kept his tone light while internally panicking. Dom had just blown up his entire life. If this had been purely impulsive?—

"No, of course not." Dom scowled and waved his hand in a typical Turner move. "I carefully considered my actions before I took them. But the catalyst was unexpected."

Garin remembered what Patrick had told him when he'd returned from the Dead Zone. "The security breach? Was that real or was that a lie?"

"That was real." Dom nodded and started unfolding his paper again. "I found evidence of Wate Group espionage in our databases. Directories that shouldn't have been accessed in orders that didn't make any sense. My first thought, of course, was that I couldn't let anyone steal that data from us." Dom tore the page out of his notebook and folded it into smaller and smaller triangles. "But then I realized that I didn't want them to not have that data because I wanted to protect the Turner edge…" Dom blushed as though admitting to something he should be ashamed of. "I didn't want them to have that data because I didn't want anyone to have it."

Pride swelled Garin's chest, and he squeezed Dom's knee. "You didn't want it to hurt anyone anymore."

Dom curled in on himself, his voice coming out small. "I don't want to be the bad guy anymore."

"Oh Dom, you were never the bad guy." Garin grabbed Dom's shoulder and pulled him into his chest.

"Yes, I was," Dom argued, but didn't fight Garin's hug. "I was the bad guy. I am the bad guy. I'm not saying I get a clean slate because I'm doing the bare minimum of cleaning up my own mess but, I just—" Dom's voice cracked and Garin squeezed him tighter. "I want to do the good thing. Oliver—fucking Oliver—did and now he's…"

Loved. Garin rubbed Dom's back and propped his chin on the top of Dom's head. Oliver was loved. Not only by an amazing man, but by friends, acquaintances, and even some strangers now. Not that Oliver didn't have enemies, he did. And plenty of people would never forgive him for the things he had done. But plenty of people had, and plenty of people loved and liked him for the other things he'd done.

Oliver was loved in a way Dom wasn't and never had been. He'd gotten out. The irony of which didn't escape Garin since Oliver had always been the more ruthless of the pair.

"I know I don't deserve for anyone to—" Dom took a deep breath. Garin winced. The younger man couldn't even say the damn word. Love. "But I can at least start trying to deserve it." Dom pushed out of Garin's arms, his jaw set, and he pointed in the direction of the relay station, though the asteroid hid their view. "And that's why I'm here."

Garin let Dom pull away, but he made a mental note to hug the younger man once a day until he got used to it. He sat back in his chair and swiveled it to look out the viewport. "The last copy of the data is in that station, isn't it?"

"It is." Dom twisted the tightly folded sheet of paper in his hands. "When I detected the spy in the database, I put a virus in a folder they hadn't grabbed yet, figuring they'd pick it up with all the rest. They did." He smirked. "It's been pinging me the folder's location ever since they took it. All the data's being stored here." He jerked his chin at the view port. "But I don't know for how long."

Garin planted his feet on the floor and his elbows on his knees, spinning up the part of his brain honed by the Human military academy and years of missions. "I take it that station isn't a simple relay server?"

"I don't think so." Dom shook his head. "I think it's a depot for stolen secrets. It explains the Wate Group's success. They always did have subpar scientists."

Garin huffed a laugh. The Turner boys were still Turners, even if they had grown consciences. "So, we're here to infiltrate and sabotage." Simple enough mission goal. Garin had carried out plenty like it.

"No." Dom pointed a finger at Garin. "I'm here to infiltrate and sabotage. You're not supposed to be here at all."

Sazahk flashed before Garin's eyes, all stubbornness and pride, and a pang of longing hit his heart.

Garin had focused entirely on finding Dom and making sure he was safe since the moment Sazahk had disappeared around the corner back at the research compound. But every time his focus slipped, Sazahk appeared in his mind's eyes, accompanied by the infuriating knowledge that Garin hadn't said everything he'd wished he'd said before they parted.

Garin pushed the image of Sazahk away as he pushed away Dom's finger. "Last I checked, you didn't have any military training."

"And last I checked, you're not contractually obligated to be here or to help me."

"Fuck contractual obligations, Dom, I'm not?—"

"Leaving Beaty or the boys behind." Dom lifted his chin. "Or your mother. We both know getting onto the station is a one-way trip and it kind of defeats the purpose of doing this to mend my selfish ways if I selfishly drag you along to your death with me."

"Neither of us is going to die," Garin scowled, but his tone was a lie. Dom wasn't wrong. Human stand-your-ground laws were ironclad, and the Wate Group would be more than happy to take out the remaining scion of the Turner Family without repercussions.

Which was why Garin had to go with him. To give him a damn shot at getting out alive.

And his family… Garin didn't want to leave them behind. But that had become a possibility the moment he'd accepted a place in the military academy. His life insurance policy would cover them financially for a decade at least.

"Garin, you can't?—"

"Let you do this alone." Garin grabbed Dom's knee again and squeezed. He pinned him with a serious glare. "I care about you, Dominic. And I will not let someone I care about do this alone. Not when I can help."

Dom frowned hard and Garin could see him wrestling with the concepts. "I don't want you to sacrifice for me."

Garin huffed a laugh. "Unfortunately, caring about people means you also have to let them care about you. I don't want to be the person that abandons you or prevents you from taking your shot at redemption. Don't make me that person."

Dom stared at him, then squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That's fucking complicated."

Garin laughed louder. "Yeah, well, welcome to relationships. Now, shall we discuss the plan for getting onto that station?"

Dom flinched. "I don't have one."

"Lucky for you, I do."