Skip Trace

by Jenn Burke

  That made sense, seeing as the gate and his cuff were both crafted by the Guardians. But that wasn’t something he was about to reveal, not when there was a chance this conversation could be picked up.

  Standing, Zed swayed on his feet and winced with every minute correction that woke up the wound in his foot. He staggered over to the head to relieve himself, figuring even if Ryan did hear the unmistakable sounds, he’d understand.

  Despite the fact that he didn’t like her, never in a million years had he thought Preston would deliberately pair pain and poison to break down one of her former subjects. They’d discovered by accident that the stin poison amplified pain. Minor aches became major ones. The pain of a sprained ankle, for example, intensified to the point that the soldier would do anything to make it stop. Lieutenant Cain had experienced that firsthand, clawing his own eyes out and ramming his head against the wall until he broke his skull.

  Zed closed his eyes against that memory. He’d never considered that the AEF had filed that information away to use against them, if necessary. Which was stupid, in hindsight. Of course they had. How well had he ever known the organization he’d worked for, fought for, nearly died for?

  He stumbled away from the toilet and shuffled back to the bed. Fire raced through his throat with every swallow and he felt dry. Dehydrated. He needed water—but asking for it might instigate another round of questioning/torture.

  God, there was a dilemma they didn’t cover in training.

  Collapsing back onto the cot, he focused on his cuff instead of the desperate need for something to drink. “You still there?”

  “Got nowhere else to be.”

  Zed sighed, thankful he wasn’t alone. Fatigue begged him to close his eyes again, but he refused. “What’s the plan?”

  “How confident are you that they’re not going to send Preston in to visit you again?”

  “Not very.”

  “That’s what I thought. Okay, so look—we’re going to get you out of that cell.”

  Zed tamped down the hope that wanted to bloom. “I know you’re all plugged in, but that’s going to be something they can trace back to you, Ryan. Not worth it.”

  “Don’t give me ‘not worth it,’ asshole.”

  “If I get you hurt, Marnie is going to kill me.”

  “She won’t. She understands. This is the right thing to do.” A soft breath sounded over the connection. “I can’t tell you how many times we’ve measured our actions against you. ‘What would Zed do’ is something we ask each other a lot. WWZD.”

  Him as a role model was a scary thought. “I’m not—”

  “You’re not perfect, no, but damn it, you always try to do the right thing. This is the right thing, getting you out of here.” Ryan paused. “Trust me, please.”

  Zed pinched the bridge of his nose, rallying his willpower to stay alert. “You can’t just open the door—” He broke off as the door to his cell whispered open. “Did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “The door opened.”

  Ryan’s voice buzzed over the connection. “Let me check—no, no one’s coming but that doesn’t mean—maybe I hit the wrong—huh.”

  “Huh? What huh?”

  “It’s showing an authorized access, but there’s no one in the area.”

  Zed held up his bracelet. Where blue lights had danced before, a single green one was lit. He stared at it, letting the implications sink in. First the magic comm line, now this.

  “A manual would’ve been nice,” he muttered, pushing back to his feet.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Okay, tell me where to go. Wait.” He stumbled, bracing himself against the edge of the doorway. “I need water first.”

  “Roger. Water. On it. Then...are you going to be up for a rescue mission of your very own?”

  “What, it’s not enough to get myself out of here? You want a ride too?”

  “No, man, not for me.” The resignation in Ryan’s voice was difficult to hear. He’d always been upbeat, enthusiastic, and to hear him like that...”Found someone else on your list. So has the AEF. There’s another Dreamweaver participant on board.”

  Zed froze a few steps beyond the door to his cell. “Who?”

  “Kinley Webb.”

  Shit, Kinley. Zed forced the self-recrimination away.

  “She’s not...she’s not doing so good.”

  Yeah, no way he was leaving her in this pit. “Water first,” he reminded Ryan. “Then tell me what I need to do.”

  * * *

  Felix got one hour of sleep. It seemed as if he’d just closed his eyes before Elias was shaking him awake, yelling something.

  “What?”

  “Just heard from Ryan. Zed is out.”

  “What!” Felix kicked his legs over the side of the low bunk. “They let him go?” Jubilation rose within him in a dizzying rush.

  “No, he escaped.”

  “The Cambridge?”

  “Just his cell. Grab your boots, team meeting in the mess. Uh, dining hall. Whatever Dieter calls his eatin’ place.”

  Felix shoved his feet into his boots and followed Elias without bothering to do up the fastenings. Everyone was gathered in the dining hall, seated at one of the long tables. Dieter had his chair up against the narrow end. They looked up as he clomped in behind Elias, and from the wavering collection of smiles, Felix guessed Elias had filled them in on their scene in the docking bay. No time to get embarrassed or pissy, though. He needed to relocate his charm and talk this group—his crew—into going to Sol. Now.

  Marnie didn’t wait for him to take a seat before she activated the playback on her bracelet. A holo leaped into the air over her wrist and Ryan’s head materialized. Felix blinked at the image a couple of times. He hadn’t seen Ryan since school and he hadn’t been present for his previous communications. The guy looked different. Older, and he had visible implants around one eye and at his right temple. Out of view, he’d have nodes at the base of his neck and on his fingertips. Ryan was a jacked-in operative, tethered to his terminal aboard the Cambridge.

  “Gotta keep this short, babe, and after, I’m only going to send messages via timed text bursts. Same system we used for the Vector operation. Zed is out of his cell. I’m in communication with him. Not sure how. He has a comm on him that the AEF obviously didn’t find. Um, a signal, something that operates on a different frequency altogether. It’s...never mind. Anyway, he’s not the only Dreamweaver team member aboard. They have Kinley Webb, too.”

  Seventh name on the list, not crossed out.

  Though they must have all heard the message before, everyone around the table drew in an audible breath. Ryan continued. “Zed’s going to try and get to her and then I’m going to try and get them to the shuttle bay in quadrant EC76.” The holo flashed as extra data hit the stream. Coordinates. “There is no section of the ship that’s not under surveillance or guard, but I think if I lead him there by a circuitous route, we can get them aboard a shuttle and away. Maybe undetected. Maybe. It’s a big effing maybe.”

  “We need to be there to meet that shuttle,” Felix said.

  Marnie nodded and paused the playback. “We figured you’d say that.”

  “If they could hijack a fighter, they might get farther away. The Ryujin class can enter j-space.” Generally only for in-system hops, which were enough to confuse a potential enemy.

  “The chances of them getting into any of the fighter bays, even with Ryan’s help, are slim to none,” Marnie said.

  “A shuttle won’t get them anywhere fast. And if Jupiter is on the other side of the system, there’s nowhere out there to land. Closest station to that orbit is Zilos—”

  “Current coordinates has the Cambridge nearly as far from Zilos as Alpha,” Qek put in. “There are
several mining colonies on Jupiter’s moons, but Jupiter is currently tracking toward Sol.”

  “That would be the first place the AEF checked,” Marnie said.

  Nessa spoke up. “You don’t think they could hide out at one?”

  Felix shook his head. “Not if the AEF contacts them, posts an alert. Remember that skip we traced to the mining colony on Grissom’s moon? They tried to do us out of the bounty.”

  “The AEF hasn’t even admitted Zed is aboard the Cambridge, though.”

  “We need to stop trying to figure out what the AEF would do and plan our own intercept. We could be there to meet that shuttle.” Felix waited until he had everyone’s attention before he continued. “Y’all said you figured I’d say that, so why are we even debating what the AEF would do? Let’s get there, be there.” He glanced at Qek. “It’d take us, what, thirty-two hours to hit the outer edge of Sol?”

  “Give or take an hour, yes.”

  “So send Ryan a message. Tell him to lead a thirty-four-hour goose chase. Hell, have him lead them all the way to the wrong end of the ship, or make it look that way.” He started to push away from the table. If they wanted to make that window, they needed to get going.

  He stopped when no one else seemed to be rushing to join him. Thought back over what he’d just said, realized he’d just volunteered Ryan for a mission that might endanger his position. “If Ryan thinks he can do that without—”

  “I have as little hope stopping him from helping Zed as we do suggesting Zed leave Kinley where she is,” Marnie said.

  “You’d have him leave one of his team members behind?”

  “According to Ryan, she’s not in good shape,” Dieter said.

  Felix turned to the other former member of Project Dreamweaver. Unbidden, compassion welled with him in, and in that moment he understood what Elias had been trying to tell him all along. What Zed had been trying to do. This wasn’t about his own personal happy-ever-after...and he’d known that, but...

  This wasn’t about him at all.

  Felix ducked his head and sat back down. Then, closing his eyes, he breathed out, long and slow. Desperation caught him on the inhale. He reached under the table to grip his knees, digging his fingers into the sides, where it hurt. Man, he was an ass. Complete and utter. Did he have the right to ask his crew to follow him? Could he even properly call these people his crew?

  Strangely, no one interrupted his moment. Perhaps they’d been waiting for it.

  He looked up at Marnie. She’d arrived last but had some sort of weird seniority. She’d known him the longest and seemed inclined to give him the most space, but the least amount of leeway. She had expectations, damn it. He considered Nessa next. As always, kindness lurked behind her gaze. Concern for him and the rest of her crew. Qek’s wide eyes communicated little in the way of expression, but Felix had known the ashushk long enough to read the smoothness of her features, to see the worry reflected there. He wasn’t fool enough, or selfish enough, to think it was all for him. One of their crew was missing and in danger. They were all worried for Zed, just as they should be.

  Dieter...the guy wanted his last days to be worth something, and he deserved the dignity of being involved.

  “Don’t look at me, I’m not coming with.” Dieter offered a lopsided smile. “Someone has to keep the home fires burning.”

  Marnie reached over to take Dieter’s hand. Felix nodded and moved on. Locking eyes with Elias hurt a little, the flush of guilt burning just under his skin, privately but for the fact every person in the dining hall could read the color across his cheeks, down his neck. Felix looked away first, dipping his chin, then he glanced up again.

  “I’m sorry.” That small phrase seemed to hang in the air a moment, heavy and dangerous. “I’m a selfish prick. Sometimes I wonder why anyone puts up with me, but...that’s not what’s important right now.” It was time to put someone else first. “Zed needs our help. A member of this crew needs our help. A member of his team needs our help. This might be our best chance to save them and...” A lump crowded his throat. “I need your help to pull it off.”

  Qek raised her hand first, slim blue digits spread in a curious wave. “I am in.”

  Marnie added her assent a second later. Elias grumbled and looked at Ness. The doctor shook her head gently, and turned her attention to Felix.

  “I want a promise,” she said.

  Felix swallowed a growl.

  “No more pills.”

  “I...” Fuck. She had him by the short and curlies.

  She quirked a brow at him. “We are a crew and this is how I want to help you.”

  He could argue that he hadn’t touched his precious vial since they’d landed on Morrison, but knew that without something to keep his hands and thoughts busy, he’d have been plowed under. “Okay.” His assent didn’t carry the weight of a promise, but surely it would do for now.

  Nessa didn’t smile, she simply nodded. The captain smacked his hands atop the table. “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Bravo-Two, what’s your position?”

  Behind the wires and pipes that camouflaged the bulkheads of the service corridor on this deck, Zed froze. His right leg was starting to cramp from the awkward position he’d jammed it into, and his left foot—the injured one—ached from holding most of his weight for the past five minutes. The patrol lingered in the main corridor that ran parallel to the smaller one housing circuitry and cables. He’d hoped they’d been heading out, but the voice over the comm had halted their progress out of the section. Through the maze of wires that blocked most of Zed’s view, he spotted movement—one of the marines keying his combat wallet to reply.

  “Just finishing our sweep of aft deck zero-three, sir.” The marine shot a grimace at his partner and continued. “No contact, sir. I repeat, no contact.”

  “Bravo-Two, can you explain to me how a single man has managed to evade your patrols for more than a day?”

  “No sir.”

  “He’s injured, dehydrated and hungry. He has not been an active duty soldier for nearly a year. And yet, he’s outsmarting every single one of your men.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Zed smirked at the marine’s growling tone.

  “It’s unacceptable. Return to command,” the voice barked.

  “Copy, sir.”

  Zed held himself still as the marines marched down the corridor and out of sight. He waited, counting off the seconds, before forcing himself out of his hiding place. The wires and pipes scraped his skin and tugged at his new piercings. He grimaced, but he’d already anticipated the payment for the tight fit. His grimace deepened as he heard the familiar and unwelcome sound of fabric tearing.

  “Shit.” Free from the wall, he looked down at his thin shirt. Any smart fibers embedded in the fabric had wilted and died. In addition to the grime and oil he’d picked up in the service tunnels and the various creative—and small—hiding spaces he’d visited, it now sported a wide gash to the left of his abs. That was going to be a pain in the ass in the next tight space.

  Zed shrugged off the shirt and stuffed it behind the wires he’d just emerged from. A stray draft of air brushed his bare skin and he shuddered, but going without the shirt was a better idea than risking it getting caught and tearing more at the wrong moment. Wasn’t as if it provided much protection from the chill of the lower decks, anyway. Idly, he flicked one of his nipple piercings. They still hurt—but they damn well would hurt more if he managed to yank out one of the barbells.

  Fuck it. He wasn’t taking them out until Flick had a chance to see them.

  “I’m clear,” he whispered to his cuff.

  Ryan’s voice sounded loud in the quiet corridor. “Did you avoid the patrol?”

  “Yeah, man. Thanks for the heads-up.” Zed sm
iled, even though Ryan couldn’t see it. He could’ve managed this cat-and-mouse business on his own, but it was so much better to have company—even if it was only a disembodied voice. “The plan is still a go? Am I good to head for the medical wing?”

  “Yep. The Chaos is closing in and I’m not detecting any major obstacles between you and the target. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

  He couldn’t let himself get excited about the thought that the Chaos was nearby, or would be soon. He had only so much energy and he had a job that needed to be his focus. After crawling and hiding for going on a day and a half—thirty-three hours—he felt like shit, but he had to keep going. Kinley was counting on him, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  Darting down the dimly lit service corridor, Zed kept all his senses attuned to his surroundings. The hum of the ship’s engines, paired with the power coursing through its metallic veins, permeated everything. Vibrations skittered upward from the deck, through the unprotected soles of his feet into the bones of his legs. It didn’t resemble the Chaos at all; the little ship hummed, but at a gentler frequency, one that only spiked just before or after a jump into j-space. In comparison, the Cambridge’s voice was too loud, too omnipresent. In the brief moments of sleep he’d managed to snatch, it invaded his dreams. He hated it.

  He swallowed, trying to work some moisture into his throat. The dryness of his mouth and the pain radiating out from his foot had been constant companions. In between crawling and hiding, he’d raided a couple of cabins, grabbing some painkillers, water and a couple of protein bars. Enough to keep him going, not enough to make him happy about it.

  Pausing at the end of the service corridor, Zed eyed the hatch across the main hall that headed up-ship. Four meters sternward, another corridor crossed the main one. From the service corridor, Zed couldn’t see if any marines lurked at the junction. They’d all headed back to command, though—his window to move should still be good.