Skip Trace

by Jenn Burke

  Felix was not comforted. He didn’t go in for legalities. Action begat action. “There’s a ladder at the end of the pier. We could head out the auxiliary hatch and be under the docks before anyone knew we’d left the ship.”

  Zed shook his head slowly. “Whatever this is, I want to face it now.”

  Like a damned hero. Fine.

  “I’m standing right beside you then.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Zed’s warm smile didn’t caress his psyche as it usually did. Felix was too worked up. He should have anticipated this—the media, the AEF, the sensation. Zed was Zed, after all. Destined for greatness, and now, with his health and future restored, he could reach out and touch the stars. Felix, broken and put back together with spit and wire, could only stretch and fail. But not today. He’d do all he could to protect Zed from the AEF and the media, even if it meant causing a scene. Felix was good at that, the whole distraction thing. With his scars, shabby clothes and station-rat pedigree, he had little to lose by acting the ass.

  The echo of their boot heels striking the gridwork flooring chased them across Cargo One. Felix activated the external hatch and tried not to blink as the large door slid up into the skin of the ship, exposing the relative brightness of the docks. A low murmur crept into the cargo bay. As the ramp extended, the murmur rose to a hum. Then, single voices punctuated the bustle. Reporters calling out for “Zander” and “Mr. Anatolius.” Beside him, Zed stiffened. Felix fought the urge to grab his hand. Distractions aside, it probably wasn’t good press for the hero of the galaxy to be gripping the hand of a scruffy engineer.

  He nudged Zed’s elbow. “Your adoring fans await.”

  “Not so sure about the adoring part. Or the fan part.”

  Yeah, the AEF had their expressions set to a polite glower.

  Zed started down the ramp and a single uniform broke the AEF front line. Felix recognized him as he stepped forward—General Bradley. Zed’s former CO and the man who’d chased them to Ashushk Prime. He appeared less than happy to be there, which...well, it wasn’t good.

  “General.” Zed offered a perfunctory salute.

  Without returning the gesture, Bradley said, “Major Anatolius, you are wanted for questioning regarding the terms of your retirement from the Allied Earth Forces.”

  * * *

  Brennan looks like Dad.

  That thought struck Zed hard as he watched his brother stare down General Thomas Bradley. For a second it was as though he’d zipped backward in time, to when his dad’s dark hair was just starting to streak with silver. Seven years Zed’s senior, Brennan wore his late thirties well, with just a few strands of silver at the temples of his dark brown hair and deepened lines at the corner of his eyes that spoke more about his penchant for smiling rather than age. Brennan even dressed like Dad—the serious, strong lines of his dark tunic and trousers might be modern, but they still drew forward memories, so many memories.

  There was no grin now, though, and none of the happiness Zed had hoped to find when he’d imagined stepping off the Chaos to be reunited with his family at last. Fury rode Brennan’s shoulders hard, every line of his body rigid.

  At least Zed wasn’t the target of it.

  He leaned back against the conference table, arms crossed, eyes on the general who used to be his commanding officer. Brennan had arrived just as Bradley had produced his writ, and had herded them into a nearby Anatolius-owned warehouse. The media had been left outside to grumble at the soldiers guarding the door. Brennan’s aides hadn’t entered the room, either; other than the crew of the Chaos and Bradley, only the Anatolius lead counsel was in attendance.

  Bradley remained at parade rest, though the tension in his burly frame belied the stress of the situation. For all of them. “Mr. Anatolius—”

  Brennan glared. “Stop. Unless you’re going to say this is all a misunderstanding, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “We’ve been accommodating, Mr. Anatolius. Don’t push me.”

  “Don’t push you? Don’t push you?” Brennan leaned closer, his jaw flexing. “I have just gotten my brother back.”

  “I want to question him, that’s all.”

  “Question me. Right.” Zed snorted. He’d heard that euphemism before.

  Brennan tossed him a glance, then turned his attention back to Bradley. “Like hell you’re going to take him away again because he’s inconvenient to the AEF.”

  Bradley stiffened, the implication of Brennan’s words not lost on him. The AEF’s closely guarded secret—that they’d experimented on some soldiers in a desperate measure to match the stin’s prowess on the battlefield—was out. At least among the Anatolius family.

  “I told Brennan everything, sir,” Zed confirmed. “About the project, about the stin, about the poison, and what I can do. Also how the AEF abandoned us to go insane and die alone.”

  “Damn it, Anatolius—” Bradley clenched his teeth. “That was never something I agreed with.”

  Zed let his shoulders rise and fall. “I honestly don’t give a shit.”

  “Telling your family...” Bradley sighed. “That alone is enough to get you thrown in the brig. The conditions of your retirement were clear. The specifics of your training were classified higher than top secret and—”

  “My loyalty is no longer to the AEF.” It was a vague statement, as he intended—there was no point in telling Bradley about the Guardians, not yet. Maybe not ever. Zed needed to find out more about why the omniscient aliens had saved him and what purpose they wanted him to serve. They’d been adamant that they wanted him to do something, but what it was remained a mystery.

  “Clearly.”

  “Oh, what the fuck do you expect?” Flick snarled. He stepped forward and Zed uncrossed his arms to grab his lover’s shoulder, halting his progress. “You cut Zed and his teammates loose. The AEF knew they needed help.”

  “Again, not my choice.” Bradley leveled his dark eyes on Zed. “So you told your family. The crew of the Chaos as well, I’m assuming. Who else did you tell, Anatolius? What secrets did you share with the ashushk?”

  Qek stepped forward to take up position next to Flick. “My people are your allies, General.”

  “That doesn’t mean your government wouldn’t use whatever intel Anatolius could provide.”

  “I assure you, what humanity can offer us is not ‘intel,’ as you say.” Qek clicked pensively. “Your military and technical knowledge is not sufficient for our needs. It is your people we wish to know. What makes humanity human and different from the ashushk. It is fascinating and wonderful.”

  Bradley stared at Qek’s large, unblinking eyes, clearly trying to determine if she was telling the truth.

  “We told the ashushk enough to help them treat me,” Zed said quietly. “The knowledge was irrelevant to them, sir, as they had already conducted their own experiments with stin poison. It’s why we went there.”

  Qek’s forehead smoothed, a sign she was not pleased with this information being shared, but Zed saw little choice. He had to give Bradley something.

  “The Guardians ended their war with the stin shortly after that experiment, just like they did ours. So the details might have been a secret to the ashies, but the fact that we’d messed with the poison was something they already suspected.”

  Bradley didn’t say anything for a moment as he absorbed the new information. “And your survival?”

  “I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie—he didn’t know how the Guardians had resurrected him.

  “A miracle,” Nessa supplied, her voice quiet.

  The Anatolius Industries lawyer stepped forward, his friendly expression making his brown eyes twinkle. He was probably a killer in the courtroom. “Is that enough, General?”

  “No. This was a start, but I need—”

>   “It doesn’t matter how many people you get to bark questions at me, General, my answers are not going to change.” Zed met Bradley’s glare. “I’m here to visit with my family. That’s my priority.”

  “Don’t make me arrest you,” Bradley growled.

  “Does the AEF want to fight Anatolius Industries?” Zed drew on the skills he’d learned during five years of covert ops combat missions, the ability to keep his face blank and unresponsive. As though it didn’t matter what Bradley said. As though the AEF going head-to-head with Anatolius Industries wasn’t one of Zed’s biggest nightmares. That was one of the reasons he’d held off returning to the fold for so long. The idea that his dad, or Brennan, might try to take action against the AEF had given him cold sweats more than once. A conflict between Anatolius Industries and the AEF would not have a good outcome—for anyone—and he hoped Bradley wouldn’t call his bluff.

  But it was leverage he couldn’t ignore, not if it would keep him free and able to continue his search for his teammates. Now that his life was more than just counting the days until the end, he had friends to find. Maybe he could help them. Maybe, despite the Guardians’ insistence that they didn’t need an army of Zanders—just him, just their so-called proof that all of the species in the galaxy were so similar that their essences could be combined in one body successfully—maybe he could convince the Guardians to save his teammates.

  It was worth a shot.

  Bradley stared at him for a couple of tense moments, his expression dark. If Zed were still a soldier, he’d be expecting a thunderous dressing-down.

  “No,” Bradley said, finally. He drew in a breath and focused again on Brennan.

  “My brother has done nothing but live, General,” Brennan said, his voice quiet. Zed wondered if anyone else knew how close Brennan was to losing his temper completely. The little bit of yelling earlier? That was nothing. Venting. If—when—Brennan lost his cool, there would be heads rolling. And that might not be metaphorical.

  “We have evidence—”

  Flick snorted, his opinion of the AEF’s evidence clear. “We all know any evidence you’ve got was pulled out of your ass, so don’t insult us by pretending otherwise.” He waved his gnarled left hand at Zed. “He told us and his family about the project and he’s alive. That’s all he’s done.”

  “Lieutenant—”

  “I’m not a fucking lieutenant anymore because the AEF kicked me out the door as a thank-you for being a POW.” The general’s eyes narrowed at Flick’s words, but Flick rolled on. “I bought into all this shit before, you know? Mostly ’cause he did,” he said, jerking his head at Zed. “But it sounded good. And the AEF did take care of me...until I was inconvenient. Just like Zed.”

  “This is not helping.” Bradley clenched his teeth. “Look, someone leaked information to the media concerning Project Dreamweaver.”

  Well, that explained the number of media folk outside. They wanted to report on more than just his apparent return from the dead.

  “What information?” the Anatolius lawyer asked sharply. What had Brennan said his name was? Casales?

  “Names and ranks of participants.”

  “And you can tie this leak to my client?”

  “No,” Bradley admitted. No doubt if they could, there wouldn’t be the courtesy of questioning. “But Major Anatolius is one of very few individuals not currently employed by the AEF who have this information and, potentially, a desire to damage the AEF’s reputation.”

  “I didn’t leak anything.” Zed pulled his wallet out of his pocket and tossed the slim plastic square at Casales, who caught it gracefully. “Go ahead, have that analyzed. I’ve only communicated with Brennan and my crewmates in the last few weeks.”

  Casales tucked the device away and turned back to Bradley. “When did the leak occur?”

  “Two days ago.”

  The day after Zed had contacted his old friend Marnie, a Military Intelligence operative. It’d been a secure transmission, though—one he didn’t route through his wallet—and no way would Marnie have leaked it.

  The lawyer arched a brow. “The link sounds circumstantial at best.”

  “It’s enough to bring him in for questioning. I have my orders.”

  “You’ve questioned my client and he’s answered. Unless you can bring forward additional evidence to implicate Major Anatolius, I believe we’re done, General.”

  Bradley’s jaw flexed. “Done for now, maybe.”

  Brennan bristled. “Is that a threat?”

  “Just a statement of fact.” Bradley shifted out of parade rest. “My superiors are going to argue that the only solution here is Major Anatolius in my custody.”

  “That’s not happening.”

  Really not happening. Zed’s fingers found the cuff on his right wrist, the one the Guardians had put on him before depositing him back on the Chaos a few days before. He wasn’t sure what it was, beyond evidence that he hadn’t dreamed the whole being-brought-back-to-life-and-communicating-with-the-galaxy’s-highest-life-forms thing. He might not know what their plan was for him, but he was pretty sure it didn’t include being imprisoned by the AEF.

  “I can see that.” Bradley’s form seemed to deflate slightly—never a good thing to see from a general. “But he needs to stay contained.”

  Zed scowled. “What am I, a disease?”

  Brennan held up a hand, halting Bradley’s rejoinder. “He’ll stay in the Anatolius compound. Sufficient?”

  House arrest. Wonderful. Seeing as the alternative was potentially actual arrest, though, he’d take it. Besides, the two buildings in the Anatolius compound—the Damianos building with the offices and the Thessaloniki Tower with the family’s apartments and other condos—had everything he could want. Except, well, freedom.

  “I doubt my superiors will think so,” Bradley hedged, then sighed. “But yes, sufficient for me.” He held Zed’s gaze again and Zed remembered the last time his former CO had looked at him that way—on Ashushk Prime, when Zed could no longer remember who he was and was barely cognizant of his surroundings. “Watch your back, Major. I hope your brother’s lawyers can work magic.”

  Chapter Two

  The last thing Zed expected when they finally got to the family’s penthouse apartment was the giant holographic banner with exploding fireworks framing the text WELCOME HOME, ZANDER!

  No, wait. The last thing he’d expected was an apartment full of people. Mom, Dad, his two brothers and their wives, sure. But this was way more than a small family celebration of the fact Zed had cheated death.

  Holy shit.

  He froze just past the threshold, on the raised foyer above the great room. The party wasn’t nearly as big as some of the events he’d attended in his teen years when he’d been off from school, but still. Who were all these people? And why were they here?

  “Mom’s idea,” Brennan murmured in his ear. “Just go with it.”

  God, he didn’t want to go with it. He didn’t want to descend into the mob and make nice with strangers. Then he caught sight of his mother racing across the room, her smile wide and her arms wider, her eyes glistening.

  Maybe he could put up with it. For a little while.

  The hug was hard, a lot stronger than anyone would expect from the petite seventy-something Natasha Anatolius. Her ash-blond hair was just as soft as he remembered, and smelled just the same, too. Vanilla and orange, from her favorite shampoo. His arms wrapped around her tiny form and he ducked his face into the curve of her shoulder.

  “Hi, Mom,” he whispered.

  Her hands moved over his head and shoulders and back, as if she was reassuring herself that he was actually there. Words he could barely hear poured from her lips, punctuated with sniffles. A moment later, a larger hand landed on his shoulder and he met his father’s stern but strangely so
ft features. The lines etched into his face were familiar, but deeper than Zed recalled, and an age spot marred one cheekbone.

  “Dad,” he managed to choke out.

  His father’s embrace was just as tight, just as hard as his mom’s, but with more back slapping. “Good to see you, son,” Alexander said, his voice rough.

  “Yeah.” Zed pulled back, smiling, and the exploding banner caught his attention again. “This is...”

  “A bit much?” Alexander chuckled as Natasha smacked his arm. “What, honey? I told you not to go overboard.”

  “I didn’t,” Natasha said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just a few people. You were missed, sweetheart.”

  Just a few people. Only thirty or so, all staring at him as he stood on what felt like a pedestal with his parents. But it made his mom happy, so...Zed nudged his grin to grow and found he didn’t have to work too hard at it.

  “Mom, Dad, you remember Flick.” Zed tugged his lover forward. He probably shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much when his parents swept Flick up in hugs, too, but he did. Particularly the minor flailing Flick did as he tried to figure out where to put his hands.

  Finally, Flick managed to disengage and take a step back. Just a small one, but it was definitely a retreat. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hi.”

  “So good to see you again, Felix. And to see you and Zed together again. I just...” Natasha’s mouth opened and closed and her hands clenched together. “It’s just wonderful.”

  Zed introduced the rest of the crew, who were welcomed with enthusiastic handshakes. His dad even managed a greeting in the ashushk language for Qek—including her full name, Qekelough, pronounced Kek-eh-low—which made Qek click happily and her face wrinkle so much he could barely see her eyes. While his parents were occupied with the Chaos’s pilot, Brennan draped an arm across Zed’s shoulders and pulled him away, toward the side of the room and the banquet table lined up beneath the long window. Zed didn’t even have time to protest before his second brother launched himself at him, hugging him even more fiercely than his father had.