by Jenn Burke
“The Anatolius family will be glad to see the back of me,” he growled over the soft whine of his multi-tool.
Mustering up a growl of his own, Elias grabbed Fix’s shoulder and turned him around. “Stop,” he said. “Look at me and talk to me. What’s up?”
In the utility light, Fixer’s eyes were dim. He raised his left wrist and fiddled with the holos until only one remained, a frozen and confusing image. Fix activated the playback. It was a news report of an incident inside the Anatolius Industries headquarters yesterday afternoon. The holo began with Fix and Zed kissing—almost grinding—in a hallway. In a blur of motion, Fix turned and moved into the camera, fist cocked and ready. The picture swung up and rocked across the ceiling. Grunts and huffed breaths, stretched thin by transmission, provided a soundtrack. A new image emerged from the confused scene, Fix’s face in close-up, his scar a livid pink line across a face reddened by fury. His lips were twisted in a snarl, his eyes dark pools. Even the crook in his nose held menace.
The holo looped through a series of images after that. Fix and Zed standing side by side, a clip of them walking somewhere hand in hand, and a blurry scene Elias didn’t recognize, though he’d seen the two men nose to nose often enough to recognize it as one of those personal moments where they communicated without words. Zed’s hands were clasped about Fix’s ears. They leaned together. Elias could almost see the tremble in Fix’s lean frame. Questions regarding the identity of Zander Anatolius’s partner gave the entire reel the feel of a tawdry gossip report. “Lover or bodyguard? Friend or foe?”
After showing the scene inside the Damianos Building again, the holo moved on to images of the Anatolius family, all quiet, serene and settled in their traditional partnerships. Not that the gender of each man’s partner made the couples more socially acceptable. More, it was everyone’s composure. The proper stance, the proper clothes, the proper expressions. They were all beautiful people. Attractive and accomplished. Next to them, Fixer...
“Jesus, Fix.”
Fixer bent to finish screwing in the panel, right hand shaking so badly he missed the screw three times while Elias watched. Fix got the panel attached, then smacked the display above it. With a lurch and hum, power returned to the cargo bay, running lights blinking on, air puffing through vents.
“I’ve got one more repair to make,” he said.
Elias grabbed his arm. “The hell you do. Talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say? Zed doesn’t need me here. He’s got a job with his family. Besides, I’m a liability, all right? I haven’t got my head so far up my own ass I can’t see that. I’m bad press.” He spat out the words as if they tasted bad. “The rest of the family will be glad to see me gone.”
“And Zed?”
Fix shrugged—and his shoulders stayed up, pinned to his ears. Then he tried to turn.
“Felix...” Elias dug his fingers into Fixer’s shoulder. “What about Zed? Are you...? Does he...? Fuck. He doesn’t even know you’re leaving, does he?”
Was he leaving? Could Elias allow him to do this?
“He’s probably meditating or some shit, which will be a whole lot easier with me not there. Now are you going to let me go or am I going to have to flip out on you?” That edge of madness licked across Fix’s face, brightening his eyes, tightening everything else.
“Zed’s not any happier on Alpha than you are.”
“He’s home. What else does he need?”
You?
Perhaps hearing the silent answer, Fix shook his head. “He’s got stuff to sort, and so do I.”
The urge to nudge harder beckoned, to actually push Fix over the edge. Elias hated seeing his friend this way: sad, cracked, broken. No word adequately described his state.
“Is this what you need? Is this...” Elias swallowed. “We’re just going there and back, right?” Hell, he sounded as if they were leaving his lover behind, not Fixer’s. But Zed was crew too.
“This is what I need.” Fix looked up, expression shockingly open, pain etched across every line. “Please.”
* * *
Zed woke to an empty bed. He wished it was a surprise, but it had been a few days since he and Flick had shared a bed for a whole night and into the morning. He’d chalked it up to Flick’s discomfort on Alpha—even without the stress of possible murder attempts, interfering reporters and a family patriarch who was a bit too insistent on some things, Flick probably wouldn’t have slept well. Alpha didn’t have the cozy comfort of the Chaos, despite the more luxurious surroundings. Not that Flick was the only one leaving the bed before sunrise—Zed had been up early on more than one occasion himself to do the meditating thing that seemed to freak Flick out a bit, so he couldn’t really complain. Except, after last night...
Staring at his reflection as he zapped the plaque on his teeth with the sonic brush, Zed considered what he and Flick had shared. Though...he wasn’t sure if shared was the right word. The sex had been good. Amazing. Bone-melting. But...just this side of cruel. In the midst of things, Zed hadn’t cared. It had been intense and Flick’s control had brought him to one of the strongest orgasms he’d ever had. In the light of morning, though, he wondered what lay beneath the tension that had been evident in Flick. He wasn’t happy about staying on Alpha, Zed knew that, but was that it? Was there more?
Striding back into the bedroom, naked, he grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and swore when he saw the time. Brennan wanted him at headquarters in half an hour for a second training session. He’d hoped he’d have enough time to track Flick down and really talk—though getting Flick’s attention while he was finalizing prep to get the Chaos back out into the black was probably not going to happen. But after the session, they needed to reconnect. Verbally.
Sighing, he opened his wallet’s interface and typed out a quick message. Thinking about you. Can we chat after my session this morning? Zed waited a few seconds to see if Flick would message back, but he didn’t; he was probably elbow-deep in the Chaos’s mechanical guts. Ping me if you get a chance. Love you.
* * *
Brennan met him in the lobby of the Damianos Building and walked with him to the gym. Zed had visited the area more frequently in the past couple of days than in all the previous visits to the building when he’d been younger. As a child, his infrequent visits to his father’s domain had been limited to his father’s office and maybe the café on the ground floor—if he behaved.
His brother noticed the glance Zed gave the coffee shop as they passed. “Need some caffeine?”
“Oh God, no.” Zed shuddered.
Brennan chuckled. “I thought you military types lived on black sludge.”
“Caffeine and I don’t get along.”
“Makes you too jittery now, or something?”
“Or something,” Zed agreed with a sigh. He wasn’t about to share with his brother that a cup of coffee woke up more than just his brain these days. And kept it up. He quickened his pace so they could get past the tempting smell of roasted coffee beans.
A group of recruits in dark gray SFTs and tight-fitting shorts stood at parade rest on the large exercise mat, waiting for him. Lights winked at each recruit’s waistband from health sensors built into the fabric. Figured that Brennan would make sure that even his lowliest recruits had the best gear.
“You enjoyed it yesterday, right?” Brennan smiled. “I heard nothing but praise for the ‘Major’s class.’”
“You’re trying to bribe me.”
“With flattery? You’re a cheap bribe, then.”
Zed grunted.
“Look, I know you’re not the type to sit behind a desk like me or in a lab like Maddox. But there’s a place for you here.”
Dad and Lise Bellerose, the head of security, had made that pretty clear at the party. Once they got this nonsense with the AEF cleared up—an
d if he stayed—he’d have a chance to really use his skills, to fill a role Lise couldn’t, with her robotic leg. He could roam the parts of the galaxy owned by his family and make sure everything was running smoothly. He could be useful. He could be more than just his muscles, which was the role he was reduced to more often than not on the Chaos. Not that there was any blame to lay at Elias’s feet for that—the Chaos just really didn’t need a security officer skilled in covert missions.
The idea of being more...it was more tempting than he wanted it to be.
“It’s kind of a moot point at the moment,” he hedged.
“Fair enough. Just...” Brennan waved a hand at the assembled class. “Have some fun. But please don’t put anyone in the hospital.”
Zed chuckled. “Hey, I didn’t yesterday.”
Brennan rolled his eyes and headed off to do whatever it was CEOs did with their day. Meetings, probably.
The session was good. The men and women—some repeat students from the day before, some new—were competent in their hand-to-hand techniques, if not stellar. Zed found himself falling back into the mental space he’d lived in for eight years. Offering suggestions and feedback soon morphed into commanding the class as he’d once commanded soldiers, barking orders and expecting perfection. By the end of the session, the guards’ shoulders drooped and their hair and clothes were uniformly soaked with sweat—but their lips were creased with weary, satisfied smiles.
He drew in a deep breath, taking the smell of sweat and hard work into his lungs, just as buoyant as he’d been after the session yesterday. God. God! How could he have forgotten how rewarding this sort of work was? Taking an adequate soldier—okay, a guard, same difference—and tweaking their skills until they could see their own potential...Every time one of them had had the lightbulb moment, where the technique had clicked and they’d understood it, it’d reverberated through Zed. As though it’d been his success as much as theirs.
Smiling, he tugged his wallet out of his pocket to check his messages and maybe send one to Flick. He wanted to share this feeling, this happiness. Maybe it would bring Flick’s mood up, too. That was probably a naïve hope, but—
A text jazer blinked in his message interface. From Elias. Why the hell would Elias send him a jazer? Tight-beam laser transmissions were expensive and unnecessary when the Chaos was docked...
Had they left without waiting for his class to be done? Had something developed in Dieter’s situation that required urgency? Zed opened the message and had to read it twice to understand it.
On route to rendezvous. Fixer’s with us. Sorry, bro. Will call & explain soon.
They’d left. And Flick had gone with them? Why? Zed flipped through his inbox, searching for a message from Flick. Something he’d missed. Anything to erase the growing realization that not only had Flick abandoned him, he’d done so without a word.
Emotions swirled in Zed’s gut and his head, but shock held them at bay. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his skin flashed hot and cold. He’d known things weren’t...maybe they weren’t the best but he’d thought...he’d thought...
I’m gonna throw up.
He swallowed convulsively. The wallet in his hands chimed and he fumbled it, his fingers unresponsive and clumsy. Finally, he managed to answer the incoming call. “Flick?”
Maddox’s face greeted him instead. “No, it’s me. Shit, Zed, you look—”
“‘M fine.”
“You’re not. What the hell happened? Bren said you were training the troops.” He paused, his eyes widening. “You didn’t really hurt someone, did you?”
“No. I...no, the class was...” He lost his train of thought, blinking. Flick’s gone. He left.
“Okay, good. Bren’ll be glad to hear it.”
“Yeah.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
No. No, I’m not.
Something must have shown in his face. Maddox continued talking, his words coming more quickly. “Go dig Felix out of wherever he’s hiding and I’ll take the two of you to lunch. There’s this really cool restaurant over on—”
“The Chaos left. He’s gone. I’m...” Falling apart. Jesus. He just didn’t understand. What did it mean, Flick leaving? Was it temporary? Had he decided that the Chaos needed him more on this mission than Zed did? Maybe Marnie had use for his tinkering skills on...something.
Maybe Zed had done something—fuck if he knew what, just something to push him away. Maybe Dad’s words yesterday hit harder than they’d thought. Maybe...
Movement caught his attention. Holo-Maddox waving a hand to summon him back from wherever. “Zed. Hey, Zed. You’re kinda freaking me out.”
Zed blinked, trying to focus on the holo of his brother, but it kept wavering. “Gonna head back to the apartment.”
“I’ll meet you—”
“No. You’ve got...work. Stuff. I’m...” He sucked in a shaky breath.
“God, just let me—”
Zed flicked off the call, then set his wallet to privacy. He stared at the floor, wondering why it didn’t just swallow him whole. If the building collapsed around him and crushed him, it would hurt less than this. It had to.
Flick had left. Why? Was this punishment? Payback?
Why? Why, goddamn it?
His hands rose to cover his face and he struggled to hold everything in. His breathing sped up and he yanked back a scream before it leaped from his throat. After everything, after all they’d been through, he’d thought he and Flick were solid. Weren’t they partners? Flick had lived through the grief of Zed dying and held on tight when he was back...Why would he leave now? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.
He reached for the Zone, for the clarity and distance it would give him—but for the first time since he’d learned how to access that altered state of consciousness, it wouldn’t come to him. His emotions were too volatile, too much of a barrier to overcome. He needed to grab Flick and shake him and demand answers.
But Flick wasn’t here.
Spinning on his heel, Zed raced across the gym to the set of punching bags. Ignoring the itch in his derma-patched right palm, he launched himself at one as though it were a stin and his life depended on beating it into submission. Vague thoughts slipped through his mind about how he’d pay for this later, with scraped knuckles, sore muscles and an aggravated palm, there and gone before he could really give a fuck. Maybe if he let out some of the pressure of his emotions, he’d be able to find the Zone. Then he’d be able to think.
And ignore the fact that his heart had been broken.
Chapter Nine
Who would save him if he pushed his hand through the stasis field and wrapped his fingers around the Tiper coil? Felix contemplated the unblemished flow of vapor through the invisible sheath. Breaching the field would require force and strength of will. He would have to continue pushing forward, even as the skin of his palm blistered and melted away. Once his fingers curled around the coil, his flesh would have been sloughed from bone, the bones themselves already starting to blacken. Or would they dissolve?
Felix studied the scarred fingers of his right hand. They were mostly straight—well, two of them were. He’d broken the others, working, fighting, thrusting his hand into a wedge of rock to arrest a fall into the pit of hell.
It would be more satisfying to ruin his one good hand. The pain would eclipse the steady ache in his chest, the crisped edges of the hole where his heart used to be. The result would be a death, of a sort. Peace, and a halt to the relentless itch across his skin.
“Fixer?”
Starting, Felix looked up from his outstretched hand. His gaze brushed over the top of Qek’s bald head until he dipped his chin to meet her wide, unblinking eyes.
“Does your hand pain you in some way?”
Felix flexed his fingers,
curled them into his palm and shook his head.
“If you are not busy, I would like to continue fitting the glove to your left hand. Once the form is complete, we can start wiring in the sensor pads you devised.”
His left hand was next to useless without the help of a quasi-robotic glove. But wasn’t the rest of him just about as unserviceable at this point?
When he didn’t answer, Qek’s forehead smoothed, showing her concern. “Are you well?”
No, he wasn’t. Ashushk did not experience love, therefore they had no concept of heartbreak. But surely they understood the need for peace, the desire to quiet the noise inside.
He stared at his left hand, at the gnarled and twisted fingers and knuckles, livid purple marks where the skin had given up trying to heal, the rope of scar tissue circling his wrist. He had matching bands about his right wrist and both of his ankles. Reminders of his captivity by the stin, the marks from his nightmares. He’d survived four years in hell. Was it any wonder he’d emerged unequipped to deal with anything less? One thing he had learned as a prisoner of war, though, was how to shut down. Switch off. He couldn’t not feel the pain, but he could ignore it.
“I don’t care, Qek.”
“For your health or the glove?”
“Both. Neither.” He turned away from the inquisitive widening of her eyes, not in the mood to play twenty questions with the ashushk. “I need to calibrate the...” Something.
Except, between Zed’s careless credits and recent fixes, courtesy of the Anatolius Security report, the Chaos slid through j-space like an eel through water. Gracefully, sinuously, a creature returned to its natural habitat. Felix was tempted to break something just to give his twitching hands something to do. Something to fix.
“Perhaps you would like to talk?”
Felix eyed the little ashushk over his shoulder, trying to read her expression. “Did Elias put you up to this?”
“He did not. Though I know everyone is worried about you. Nessa says you have not eaten since we left Alpha. Is this correct?”