Skip Trace

by Jenn Burke

  “I don’t give a shit.” Saito shrugged, his eyebrows mimicking the upward movement of his shoulders. “I really don’t. I don’t care if you’re the source of the leak. I don’t care if you tell me about what happened on Ashushk Prime. Don’t get me wrong, it would be a nice footnote to the Project Dreamweaver records—which is why I played along with Thomas’s plans up to this point—but it’s unnecessary. As far as I’m concerned, that experiment was disgusting, its output horrendous and it needs to fade away. Every other participant is following the expected path of dissolution. Except you. Which means you need to disappear and stay disappeared.” Saito opened a drawer in his desk and drew out a matter pistol, which he aimed at Zed.

  Beside Zed, Bradley froze. “Admiral, this isn’t—”

  Saito didn’t shift his gaze from Zed. “Your priorities are not my priorities.”

  “But his family.” Bradley swallowed, the sound audible in the otherwise quiet room. “Alexander Anatolius is a bigger threat than you realize.”

  “Don’t presume to think you have knowledge I don’t, General.” The slightest emphasis on the rank was obviously intended to put Bradley back at heel.

  “No, sir.”

  “Anatolius Senior will be annoying for some time, I have no doubt, but there is little he can actually do. The AEF has more ships, more personnel and greater weaponry. He’s a dog with no bite.”

  “But—”

  “You had your opportunity to get information from him. It didn’t work. You think he’s going to tell the truth now?” Saito arched a brow.

  Bradley considered Zed for a moment, no doubt remembering the lie he’d told about Ryan. “No, sir.”

  “Then we’re done. This isn’t my favorite option—it makes for a hell of a lot of extra work, along with meetings, and judicial boards, and so on—but Zander will be shot and killed while trying to escape custody. We can get answers from the autopsy.” He glanced at Bradley. “I need to know you’re on board, Thomas.”

  Zed sucked in a breath, trying damned hard not to let his fear show. He didn’t want to die, especially not after the Guardians had given him back the life he’d thought he’d lost a long time ago. He poked at the Zone, but couldn’t slip into the altered state. He was too tired, too sore, too fucked up from the second dose of stin poison. His cuff didn’t seem to work on the manacles—or maybe he needed to concentrate to get it to manipulate locks, he had no idea.

  Bradley remained silent. The general’s dark eyes flicked to Zed’s, and there was no mistaking the conflict there. Though Zed didn’t want to, he understood the position Bradley was in. If he acted to defend Zed, he’d likely end up shot as well. No doubt Saito wouldn’t hesitate to add another casualty to the report if needed. Hell, maybe he’d find some way to blame Bradley’s death on Zed.

  “There has to be another option, Admiral,” he said softly.

  “No options,” Saito barked. “Yes or no.”

  Bradley’s jaw clenched, the muscle flexing. He opened his mouth to answer—

  Warmth brushed Zed’s mind. He closed his eyes, reveling in the touch he thought he’d never feel again. It was like a grandmother’s hand on his brow, brushing back a stray lock of hair, proprietary in the best sort of way. His cuff tingled and Zed smiled, a wide, open grin.

  “I’m gonna propose a different option,” he said, just as the familiar sense of a Guardian scan cascaded through the ship.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alarms blared. The ever-present hum of engines sputtered and ceased. Saito and Bradley gasped and shuddered, obviously feeling the scan in unpleasant places.

  “Human vessel Cambridge,” echoed across the comm at the same time that a more gentle version of the voice whispered in Zed’s mind, “Zanderanatolius, we are here.”

  Zed sagged against his restraints. “Thank you,” he thought at the voice, sending what emotions he could along with the words.

  “You are hurt?” The Guardians poked at his memories and he let them, relief at their presence robbing him of the energy and adrenaline that had powered him for the past few minutes. Fury suddenly reverberated through his mind and he sat straighter, adrenaline surging once more.

  A comms officer stammered at the Guardians, assuring them that they would be moving on from this quadrant of space, but the synthesized voice cut her off. “We would speak to the individual in command of this vessel.”

  Zed felt a small amount of vindication in seeing Admiral Saito’s finger tremble as he reached out to press a button on the desk console, presumably to open a channel. “This is Admiral Michael Saito, Guardians. Greetings. I—”

  “Zanderanatolius, you have been held against your will by this individual?”

  Hearing his name spoken out loud in the Guardians’ synthesized tones instead of in his mind was a bit jarring. “I have, Guardians.”

  Saito’s brow furrowed. “The Allied Earth Forces is well within its jurisdiction to apprehend and punish individuals who threaten our—”

  “And you have been tortured?”

  Zed swallowed. He had avoided thinking of it in those terms, but that was what Preston had done. He closed his eyes, trying to stave off the shudders that cascaded through his body.

  “We already know,” the Guardians whispered in his mind, warmth caressing his thoughts. “It must be recorded, however. You must speak.”

  “Yes,” Zed managed aloud.

  “Unacceptable.” The Guardians’ synthesized voice sounded so much colder than the one in Zed’s mind, probably because the audible version could not carry inflections. “We are displeased.”

  “Oh shit,” Bradley muttered.

  “Zanderanatolius carries with him our authority. He has our trust and he wears our mark.”

  His cuff tingled. He caught a green flash out of the corner of his eye before the manacles unsealed themselves and fell to the floor. Zed lifted his hands to his lap, rubbing his unprotected wrist.

  “Action against him will be, from this point forward, considered as action against us. Is this understood, human vessel Cambridge?”

  “Yes, Guardians,” Saito managed in a shaky voice. He stared at Zed, confusion apparent in his wide eyes and gaping mouth.

  “Wasn’t the ashies who fixed me.” Zed let his head fall back against the chair as a new wave of exhaustion swamped him.

  “Human vessel Chaos, you may now dock with human vessel Cambridge.”

  Zed jolted upright. The Chaos was still out there? Oh, thank God he hadn’t tried to resist being rearrested in the shuttle bay. The Guardians stroked his thoughts and he could feel their amusement at his surprise. “No teleportation?” he asked silently.

  “Your system has been exposed to enough stress, Zanderanatolius. We did not wish to cause further injury.”

  And Zed could do without experiencing teleportation while awake. “Thank you.” Aloud, he said, “Guardians, there is an individual who attempted to help me who is also being held against his will. A friend, Ryan Scott.” Zed turned his gaze to Saito. “He wishes to retire and the AEF—”

  The admiral narrowed his eyes. “Colonel Scott aided and abetted—”

  “He is an ally, Zanderanatolius?”

  “And part of my crew.” Or he would be, once he got on board the Chaos. Elias would adopt him, no question. He was good like that.

  Okay, so maybe he was still a fan of Elias’s.

  “Human vessel Cambridge, you will escort Zanderanatolius and his ally Ryanscott to their vessel.”

  Saito gritted his teeth and glared at Zed, but he had no play here and he knew it. “Yes, Guardians.”

  Zed let out a sigh and resisted the urge to close his eyes. He was going home. The walk might be the longest of his life, but damn, he was going home.

  * * *

  Round two. This one d
efinitely went to the Guardians.

  Felix stared at the closed auxiliary hatch until his vision blurred. The broadcast exchange between the Guardians and the Cambridge replayed over and over in his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he should shit his pants at the implications of the Guardians’ instructions, or simply thank all the stars he was on the right side of the conflict. He was on the right side, wasn’t he?

  Nessa squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to Cargo Two. “You okay?”

  Another voice echoed inside his head. Peachy. He managed to squeeze an affirmative grunt out of his suddenly tight throat.

  Elias leaned in close on Felix’s other side. He should have felt trapped, but he didn’t, not right then. Instead, his friends anchored and supported him. Qek’s clicks held happy purpose.

  “Where’s Marnie?” Elias asked.

  “Guest quarters. She’s not officially here. Said to ping her if Ryan wasn’t right behind Zed, though, and she’d make her retirement messily official.”

  Elias made an odd sound.

  “I’ll be right behind her.” Felix eyed his captain and friend, waiting for him to pick up the challenge.

  “And we’ll be right behind you.”

  Smiles grew all ‘round. Beneath his, Felix fought to quell myriad emotions. His hands trembled.

  The external hatch panel flashed, indicating the airlock on the other side had been accessed. Qek keyed in her code. The hatch whispered open to reveal an empty docking tube. Felix drew in a tight breath, then another. The third expansion of his lungs felt a little looser. Then the doors of the small ‘lock whispered open, revealing a cluster of men in formation. At their head, General Bradley, all starched and strained. Behind him, an honor guard of uniformed soldiers, marines, backs straight, eyes set to regulation boredom. Though the docking tube cut off much of his view, Felix caught the telltale mark of consternation in their stance. The occasional jerk against knee joints, the lack of creaking uniform creases. They were afraid, every last one of them.

  In the center of the huddle of fear stood a man. The lopsided slope of his shoulders hid his identity, even though Felix knew who it was, would always know that outline, that presence. Panic skittering across his skin, he looked for Ryan and saw him leaning against one of the rear soldiers. Less guarded, obviously thought less dangerous. Felix hoped the lean was due to simple fatigue. Then Zed moved away from his guards and stepped through the tube, into the light, and Felix forgot all else.

  He’d been given a shirt. It hung limply to his hips, as if it had been tested as sorely as the man it covered. Zed walked slowly, with mustered dignity, but Felix could see the pain etched in every line of his face, read it in the off-angle of his shoulders and hips. Felt it in the deliberate way he put one foot in front of the other. But as none of Zed’s escort had broken formation, neither could Felix. Not because he didn’t want to trip into the tube, fling himself at Zed and sob wretchedly. Not because his muscles felt frozen and his legs locked in place.

  Everyone held position because the situation demanded it. This was not a casual, joyful, tearful reunion. This was a meeting between two warring factions, yet another armistice presided over by the Guardians.

  No measure of fear could prevent Felix from meeting the general’s gaze, however, holding it and staring the man down. Felix had faced greater foes—had been cowed by death, itself. He would not walk away from this exchange without communicating that to the AEF.

  Bradley flinched. Message received.

  Felix didn’t engage any of the other soldiers. They were as he and Zed—cannon fodder. Bodies in boots. Meeting Zed’s gaze proved difficult. His eyes flickered back and forth, as if he sought a bolt-hole. Felix knew the feeling. Summoning every ounce of patience he possessed, he waited for Zed to look up. When he did, Felix swallowed a gasp and used all that reserve to remain standing and still. Zed’s eyes were too dull, the color reduced to worn steel. But the spark of determination dwelt within the gray depths, undimmed.

  Thank all those useless gods.

  Ryan stumbled into the tube after Zed, his steps more timid than slow. Felix hadn’t remembered Ryan as tall, but there he was, lanky and gangly, hands and head too big for his body. Or maybe the shine of implants across his shaven skull and down the backs of his fingers made them seem larger. He didn’t appear to have been worked over as thoroughly as Zed, but the flatness of his eyes, the straight line of his mouth, gave away his state of mind. He’d been resigned to his fate and hadn’t yet accepted the fact it had changed. As soon as he cleared the hatch, General Bradley stepped forward.

  Elias mirrored the movement on their side, stepping into the wide tube, but keeping to one side so that Zed and Ryan could pass him. “Thank you for returning my crewmen,” he said.

  Surprise widened Bradley’s eyes for a moment before his face fell into tired and defeated lines. He nodded once and stepped back.

  Zed halted next to Elias. “Permission—”

  Elias nudged Zed back toward the hutch. “Granted, damn it. Get aboard.” He gestured toward Ryan. “Step lively, Mr. Scott. I want to get this hatch closed and locked.” His tone was gruff, but Felix could see the roundness of his cheeks as he welcomed his new crew member aboard.

  Outside the airlock Bradley opened his mouth. Ryan cleared the threshold, stunned expression still in place. Elias stepped back waved at the general. “Buh-bye!”

  Qek touched the panel and the door hissed closed.

  Elias hauled Zed into a fast embrace. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Nessa stepped up behind, medical wallet already open with several overlapping interfaces intersecting the hugging men.

  Producing a weary smile, Zed let go of Elias and batted at the holos. “Later, Ness. I’ve got enough complaints to keep you happy for a week.” He slid an arm around her and pulled her into a gentle hug. “Tend my friend here.” His face creased into a hundred wrinkles. “You know Ryan, right? Too tired to make proper introductions.”

  Nessa immediately began clucking over her newest patient. Qek’s clicks echoed just over top of her concerned murmur. “Welcome back, Zander.”

  Zed directed a weary but fond smile at the ashushk. “Good to see you.”

  That gray gaze found Felix next. Fighting the usual coupled urges—flight or fight, or flight or sob—Felix shifted his feet, clenched and unclenched his fists and swallowed. “Ze-ed.”

  The break in his voice reflected the state of his being.

  Zed leaned toward him and Felix responded instantly. He could no more lean away than he could deny his lungs oxygen. Arms closed around him, warmth pulled him close.

  “I’m sorry,” Felix whispered, the echo of their most recent parting loud inside his head.

  “Not now,” Zed murmured.

  Overriding his fear of...everything, Felix hugged back, hard. He buried his face in the crook of Zed’s grimy neck and inhaled the rank odor of sweat and sickness. Zed trembled in his embrace, small shocks traveling through the muscles of his back and along his arms, and then he fell forward, the weight of his arms pulling Felix’s shoulders down. Felix stumbled, and panicked. Stumbled again.

  “Zed!” Oh, God. No.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Zed opened his eyes to see the familiar riveted ceiling of the Chaos’s med bay stretching overhead. Two things occurred to him. The first was that he’d clearly passed out—again. He wondered if he could get Ness to reward him if he managed to go a month without needing a visit to her domain. Worth looking into.

  The second thing was that someone was whispering in his ear. He lifted a heavy hand and pulled at the lobe, trying to dislodge the voice.

  “Zanderanatolius.”

  “Oh.” Not a whisper, then.

  Clothing rustled next to his bed and he directed his gaze sideways in tim
e to see Flick straighten, his boots slapping the metal floor. “Zed. You awake?”

  “How do you feel?”

  “How do you feel?”

  Well, this was going to get old quick. “I’m fine,” Zed rasped.

  Ness approached, her wallet out, readouts dimly visible on the display. “They did something—”

  “The stin poison—”

  “—but your vitals look good and—”

  “—we have been monitoring—”

  “—should be fine—”

  “—simply need to rest and—”

  Zed lifted his hands to cover his face. “Stop. Please. One at a time.”

  Flick shifted in his seat, making metal scrape against metal, and shared a concerned look with Ness. “Zed, are you sure—”

  “Apologies, Zanderanatolius.”

  Zed took his hands away from his face and tapped a finger against his temple. “Give me a sec?”

  Ness’s eyes widened. “They’re talking to you?”

  Flick’s expression said he wasn’t sure if Ness should give him a shot of something. Zed closed his eyes, shutting out the vision of his lover—former lover? God, I don’t want to think about that—and focused instead on the voice in his head.

  “I’m here,” he sent to them, meaning well, healthy, conscious, alive. As always, the mental words weren’t really words, but concepts, ideas. His brain just interpreted them as speech.

  “We are glad.” He sensed hesitation and regret, and the next thoughts were weighed with each. “We did not realize that our mark would not be understood.”

  “The cuff?” Zed smiled. “It’s sort of nondescript.”

  “We did not think you would appreciate a brand on your forehead.”

  Zed’s eyes snapped open as he let out a snort of laughter. “Oh my God, they made a joke.”

  “This is really fucking weird,” Flick muttered. Ness gently cuffed the back of his head.

  “At least, I think it was a joke.” To the Guardians, “It was a joke, right?”