by Kelly Jensen
“Sure we do.”
“Why?” Hell, he’d thought Zed was going to ask him to go back to Alpha again. Work for Anatolius Industries. Do the family thing. And, in between worrying over the fate of the galaxy, Felix had half decided to think about it. Because he did love Zed and he wanted to make him happy. Keep him happy.
“Because I love you.”
“So you keep saying. Why the sudden need to get married?” Oh no...”Is this your dad’s suggestion? Your mom’s?”
“No.” Zed’s gaze slid sideways as he continued. “I did talk it over with them, though.”
“You—”
“They think it’s a good idea.”
“They do?”
“Brennan and Maddox do too.”
“You talked it over with your entire family?”
“Well...yeah.”
“Before or after we were on Alpha?” Elias’s voice floated out of memory: I don’t even have to ask if you said yes, right? Shit. So...everyone had known. Everyone but him. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.” Felix turned back to his console. “I’m going to look like a total asshole when I say no, and your family’s gonna hate me.”
“You’re...you’re saying no?”
“I’m not the kind of guy you marry, Zed.”
“You’re exactly the kind I want to marry!”
Felix stabbed the display, missed the report glyph and caught his finger on the console beneath. “We’re a few minutes from exiting j-space. You want to check out Leonis Bb or the moons first?” Bb was the only planet capable of supporting life, though the location and environment didn’t make it high on the list of colonial expansion efforts.
“Fuck the planet and its moons, Flick.”
“Bb it is, then.”
“Goddamn it, this is serious.”
“So serious you put off talking to me about it for four fucking days.” Felix turned narrowed eyes on Zed. “You knew how I’d react.” And that sorta hurt, because...fuck it. Why did Zed need this? Was it really just about the romance? Strawberries and chocolate?
Zed was staring at him again, steel-blue eyes muted by thought, confusion, pain. Sighing, he glanced away, then back again. “Look, when you were injured, did you know the doctors turned to Elias and Ness for permission to do the shit they needed to do? Not me. It was clear who I was—beyond my official role, I mean. Everyone knew that I was the guy who loved you. Your partner. But legally, I had no say.”
“So you want to get married so you’ll have a say?”
“No. Yes.” Zed’s hand rose up, as if he contemplated throttling him. “You drive me fucking crazy, Felix.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I want to marry you because I love you. Because I want to make sure you’re taken care of, in case anything—”
“Shut up.”
“Flick—”
No, no, no. Felix shook his head. “You already died once and it nearly killed me. You think if you leave me behind again, there will be anything left to take care of?” He’d refused Zed’s money once before and he would refuse it again. It’d never been about who Zed was on the outside, who he was related to. He loved Zed for the man inside. The gentle hero.
Zed clenched his fists. “I just want—”
It was time to redirect the conversation. “I’ll tell you what this is about. This is about your nightmares.”
Zed was a restless sleeper. Show him a former soldier who wasn’t. But Felix knew Zed had been dreaming a lot more since the incident with the resonance that cost Felix his arm.
“No.” Zed crossed his arms.
Felix sighed. “I’m fine, Zed.” The Apex Rapere jolted slightly, the shudder accompanied by the lurch in his gut that signaled they’d left j-space. “If this is just your over-thinky-analyzey brain trying to convince you that you’re responsible for this—” he held up his crystalline arm “—stop. You don’t need to fix it.”
Zed narrowed his eyes. “That’s not—”
“Can we get back to the mission, please?” With a quick motion, Felix sent a readout to the copilot’s console in front of Zed. “Scan. See if there’s anything here worth investigating. I’m going to send a message to the Chaos, let them know we got here okay.”
“We’re not done discussing this.”
“Fine.”
They monitored the readings in silence—uncomfortable silence—as they approached Leonis Bb. After nearly an hour, Felix sighed. “I’m not getting anything. I thought it was because of the distance, but all the readings are a jumbled mess.”
Zed poked around in the interface. “It’s the thermosphere. It’s heavily ionized. We need to get closer.”
“Yeah. Okay, sending a status update to Qek. If it’s this messy up here, our comms might get patchy from here on out. I’m extra glad we didn’t bring the Chaos now. She can’t handle any sort of atmosphere, but this baby can, can’t you?” Felix stroked the dashboard.
“I’m gonna tell the Chaos you’re cheating on her.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” He tossed a grin at Zed, but it felt strained. They might not have returned to their argument, but the echo of it still lingered in the tight space of the bridge.
Felix guided the Apex Rapere through the mesosphere and into the stratosphere, listening with half an ear to Zed reporting the changes in the atmospheric conditions outside the ship. The readings indicated a lower atmosphere chock-full of obscuring particles and electrical activity. Hopefully once they’d dipped below that, they’d get a clear sense of what—
The little ship rocked sideways. Beside him, Zed lurched forward, his hand slicing through a holo. Straightening, Zed pushed out of the copilot’s chair. Something clicked behind him, Zed securing one of the jump seats, silencing a clatter that had been vaguely annoying.
Another shudder had Felix grabbing at the console. “The whole ship’s going to rattle like dice in a cup if this turbulence continues.”
“What’s causing it?”
“I don’t know. Troposphere is a mess. But we’re not that low yet.” The ship continued to rock, regardless of course. “Fasten your harness.”
Felix’s fingers became a blur as he attempted to compensate for the rough passage while trying to figure out what was causing the problem. An explosion of sparks flared in the periphery of his vision and he looked up in time to see Zed flying out of the copilot’s chair.
“Zed!”
Zed landed awkwardly and he lay there, gasping, as a cacophony of warning beeps shrilled through the cabin.
“Here, let me—” Felix pushed upward only to find himself restrained by the harness. The ship lurched as his hands left the controls. “Damn it! Why weren’t you strapped in?”
“I was working on it. Don’t worry, I’m good.” Zed sounded anything but good. Pain edged his quiet tone. Still, he managed to push up off the floor and scramble back to his seat.
Felix wished he didn’t have greater concerns. The power surge had knocked half the console offline, three displays hanging dark and ominous beneath the swirling meteorological patterns. Shit and all the shits, what had they flown into? More alarms chirped and the remaining displays flashed with warnings. And the main engine was offline. Atmo engines were offline. Inertial dampeners were nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t get a reliable read on life support. They had...Fuck, all they had were thrusters.
“Fasten your harness,” Felix ordered. “We’re going down.”
* * *
Zed gritted his teeth as Flick’s fingers flew over the holographic console. He was pretty sure he’d broken his wrist—or maybe it was a sprain. Either way, it hurt like hell and he didn’t have time for it. He hauled himself back into the copilot’s seat and strapped in as best he could with one arm.
Flick kept his eyes
on the instruments. “Toggle the starboard thruster in half second bursts every thirty seconds.”
“You want to use thrusters in an atmosphere?” Zed scanned his console, located the control and activated the correct array. A ball of fire did not envelop them.
“Short and sweet,” Felix muttered. “No more than half a second and we should be fine.”
Thirty seconds passed and Zed activated the thruster again. Another thirty seconds, another burst. This time the small craft lifted slightly. Not level, as far as Zed could tell, but a better attitude than nose-first anyway. Storms broke around them, lightning arcing across the narrow forward window, thunder roaring over the sound of the straining engines. The hull of the Apex Rapere shuddered and groaned, and more sparks flew from the console.
Flick cursed. “Don’t activate the thrusters again. I don’t have time to check the readings of this storm. Gotta get power to the hydraulics...”
Right, because without flaps, they wouldn’t even make a controlled glide.
The roiling tempest swathing the planet continued to play havoc with every system. Zed gave up trying to understand the readings on the console in front of him. He was no pilot. His flight skills were limited to following the instructions of a simple emergency “press this button to keep flying” tutorial, which wouldn’t help them here.
The dense clouds thinned, but through the forward view screens Zed could still see nothing but a swirling mess of purple-gray.
“Thrusters,” Flick yelled.
Zed touched his console and the small craft tipped forward. The view changed from cloud cover to clear atmosphere and the curved horizon far below. Far enough below to allow Flick to gain control? A reading Zed did understand caught his attention and he brought up the details with an awkward swipe of his good hand.
“I’ve got a weird power signature from the planet surface,” he reported.
“Coordinates?”
Zed rattled them off, comparing them to their current position. Ahead and to the left. Zed could see nothing on the view screen. No lights, no regular lines indicating infrastructure or agriculture.
Flick frowned, clearly noting the same lack of...anything. “Are you sure it’s not just a system malfunction?”
“No.” But they hadn’t come all this way for a system malfunction. Something was down there.
“There shouldn’t be anyone out here. This system isn’t on the charter of any species,” Flick said.
“I know.”
“Okay, things are going to get a little warm in here. Rerouting power from all essential systems to hydraulics.” Flick glanced at Zed. “I can’t get the atmo engines back online without going down to engineering, so this is our best shot at getting down.”
Zed reached across his body with his good hand to grasp Flick’s human wrist. The flash of connection helped settle his stomach, which had decided to remind him that he really, really didn’t like heights and they were falling from a doozy of one. But he had as little time for that fear as he did for the pain in his left wrist. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
The surface of the planet became more distinct with every passing second. It appeared relatively flat—but not featureless. A long jagged line bisected sweeping plains of what might be rock or sand. Craters pockmarked the plains, each a vague, half-moon shadow. No large mountain ranges, no jagged peaks reaching up to rip the undercarriage from their craft as they hurtled by, but their lack didn’t mean they wouldn’t land hard. Fundamental laws and all that. Even if Flick gained enough control to glide down, they’d be leaving bits and pieces of the Apex Rapere along their landing path.
“Read the sensor data to me,” Flick said. “We need a long, flat space for our crash.”
Oh God. “You mean our landing.”
“If you prefer.”
Zed flipped through a couple of sensor maps, though he didn’t know how well he could trust the data. Not like they had a choice. What was that? He checked the forward view screens. An almost perfectly round and dark shape loomed on the horizon. A lake or inland sea? “Okay, I think I’ve got a spot. Can you nudge us west?”
“How many degrees?”
Zed input the coordinates.
Flick looked up from the pilot’s console. “Water won’t cushion our landing.”
“You mean crash.”
“Ha. In all seriousness, though, it’s going to be just as hard as the ground, and even if I get the right trajectory—”
Zed stabbed the navigational holo. “There, right on the edge of the sea. Longest, flattest stretch of land I can see.”
Another alarm shrieked through the bridge. The craft juddered upward and listed to the left. No more time to correct their course—no more gliding, controlled or otherwise. Panic, held back by sheer will up to this point, started to pound in his chest.
“Shit, fuck, double shit,” Flick muttered.
Well, that wasn’t helping his blood pressure. “What?”
“Port thruster, half a second.”
Zed grappled with his display. The craft lifted slightly, but a short boom followed the maneuver. The console flashed and squawked, indicating fire in the lower hold and a power cascade knocking out systems along random paths. After that, the speed of notices and warnings flashing by surpassed his ability to keep up. Flick tried—damn, did he try, his fingers flying over the console. Zed had no idea what he was trying to do, but whatever it was, it took all his concentration. He reached for the Zone, if only to ensure his reflexes weren’t hindered by panic if Flick needed him to fire the thrusters again.
Then Flick input one final command and turned to him. “I can’t stop it. If we don’t break apart completely when we get down, the foam will keep us protected. Put on your mask.”
Zed mirrored Flick’s actions, reaching under his console with his good hand for his rebreather and fitting it over his nose and mouth. It would keep him supplied with oxygen until...He didn’t want to think about the until. The Zone kept the fear at bay—barely.
Flick held out his hand and Zed reached across his chest with his good one to grip Flick’s fingers. I love you. Flick’s words slipped across their connection, each one pronounced carefully and with emphasis. Zed held on to the thoughts, the words, and hoped Flick knew they were returned with just as much—
The bridge exploded in a cloud of white as foam poured into the space. Flick’s hand was jostled from Zed’s grasp. Zed felt himself get jerked away from the seat, and a new fear took root—was his harness too loose? He’d tried to tighten it but—
Impact.
Chapter Five
“That’s the ship we’ve been looking for?”
Elias could barely make out the vessel clamped behind the bulky docking tube, but he could tell that not all the shadows along the hull were thrown by the grimy plasmix window in front of him. The Blythe did not look particularly blithe. She was smaller than the Chaos, and twice as ugly, without the excuse of a retrofitted ashushk star drive. He did recognize the build, though. She’d be fast in-system, and if she’d gone all the way to Bosun, they’d have been hard-pressed to track her.
“The registration matches the one provided by Mrs. Scott. The Blythe is the only ship to have been docked at Chloris at the same time we were there.”
“According to the docking records, she’s carrying a crew of two and they don’t have a place in the jump queue,” Nessa said. Which meant they weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon.
“I wonder what they’re doing here.”
“At least they’re not knocking on Marnie and Ryan’s door.”
Qek clicked. “I assume any such knocking would be figurative.”
“One would hope so.” Elias turned away from the windows flanking the outer wall of the docking concourse on Petrel Station. “Okay, let’s find these bastard
s.” They could wait until someone returned to the ship and joined the jump queue, but the ship and data had been stationary for the thirty-six hours it had taken the Chaos to travel to Petrel. “Pity this isn’t an Anatolius outfit. Security codes would be nice right about now.”
“Or one of Fixer’s hacks,” Qek said, blue fingers twitching across the small holo projected over her wallet. “I have some tools recommended by Mrs. Scott, but I am still learning how to use them.”
Could they ask Marnie and Ryan to hack station security remotely, or would that leave them too vulnerable to a reciprocal trace?
“I will return to the Chaos and keep you updated from there,” Qek said.
“Keep the doors locked and the c-core spinning.”
“It is illegal for me to...” Qek’s wide blue face wrinkled into the ashushk equivalent of a smile. “I will endeavor to make the Chaos ready to depart at a moment’s notice.”
“Just don’t leave without us.”
Elias promised to check in every thirty minutes and led Nessa away from the docks and into the station proper. “Last time we were here, someone tried to kill us,” he muttered as he surveyed the main thoroughfare.
“Someone trying to kill us is practically a given in places like this,” Nessa said.
“Let’s make today an exception.” He pulled up a holo map. “Okay, if you had hacked our ship, why would you come to Petrel Station and sit here for nearly two days? Why not go directly to the source?” To Bosun.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Eli.” Nessa hugged herself briefly. She didn’t look worried, just uncomfortable. “You know, as many times as the trail zigzagged before this point, they could have just been bouncing the data across the galaxy.”
“The zigs and zags were all basically in this direction, though. I wish we knew what was in those data packets.”
“I’m assuming it’s our data.”
“Why bring it here?” Elias stopped walking. “Wait.” An invisible band tightened around his chest. “This is where we picked up Dieter.”
“Yes, I know.”