by Kelly Jensen
He glanced at Nessa. He couldn’t make out her expression, but she touched his arm, nodded and pulled her hand back to her belt to liberate a hypo from one of the loops. Elias hadn’t decided whether Nessa’s willingness to use a hypo against someone was awesome or disturbing. He blew her a silent kiss and, pulling a stunner from his belt, crept across the floor. As he drew closer to the opening, he heard the soft susurrus of voices from below. He stopped when they became clear.
“Can you see anything?” a woman murmured.
“Shut the fuck up, Sora.”
The admonishment was followed by a moment of silence, then Sora spoke again. “How much longer is this gonna take?” Her tone was odd—as if she were trying to sound more irritated than she was.
“It’ll take as long as it fucking takes. Sit down and stop asking stupid questions.”
The guy down there had to be the hacker, the one they’d chased on Chloris. That meant he’d...Elias blew out a quiet breath. That meant the guy in the hole was like Zed. Smaller—runtier—but able to Zone and phase-shift. Even if he lacked Zed’s strength, in the Zone his reflexes would be enhanced and his tolerance for pain ramped up.
Keeping him confined to the hole seemed the best course.
Hopefully Sora was just the pilot. But if she could Zone, he and Nessa were in trouble. Elias flipped his wallet open again and keyed a quick message to Qek, explaining what they’d found. If they didn’t make it back to the Chaos, she’d at least have a clue what had happened to them. He glanced at Nessa and nodded. They advanced to either side of the hole and Elias leaned out to peer down into the subfloor of the shop.
Beneath a layer of insulation obviously designed to protect the hidey hole was a laboratory full of humming terminals and a super main Ryan would pen sonnets about. They’d found Arlo Beck’s place, and the guy in the hole was waiting for them, looking up with a weirdly lopsided grin. “Took you long enough to break the lock, but you seem to have forgotten I like alarming doors.”
The hacker had a holo open showing a view of the interior of the shop. With the lack of light upstairs, he would have seen a door open and close. A low tech and silent alarm.
Elias couldn’t see Sora. He decided that was good. Meant she was out of the way. He pointed his stunner through the hole. “We just want our data returned, that’s all.”
“It’s a little late for that. I already sent it on to my employer.”
“At Leonis?”
The guy’s eyes narrowed a second before he shrugged.
“What’s out there?” Elias asked.
The skewed smile returned. “Oh, I think you know what’s out there.”
“More soldiers?”
“I’d be more worried about what’s here,” the guy answered, tapping the keyboard in front of him. “Your friend Dieter had quite a number of interesting theories.”
“Dieter didn’t know any more than the AEF. Project Dreamweaver isn’t viable.” And supposedly shut down. “Who’s in the Leonis System?”
“Dieter knew a lot, actually. Did you know he had the entire history of the project here? All the records supposedly sealed by the AEF.” The guy continued working the holo displays in front of him, apparently unconcerned by Elias and his stunner.
“Why would you want the history?”
“Because my employer is a very thorough individual.”
In the periphery of his vision, Elias saw Nessa had her wallet out and was keying a message. He glanced at her, eyebrows raised, but she didn’t look up. Movement in the hole drew his attention back downward, but it was too late. The hacker surged upward, hands outstretched, the outline of his fingers a blur. Elias ducked back, not keen on the idea of having the guy pass through him. The hacker slammed into him regardless, rolling him away from the hole. Elias’s stunner discharged uselessly.
A fist connected with his jaw. Light and pain obliterated everything for far too long. Elias couldn’t even shake his head, let alone get his feet under him. When his eyes stopped rolling, he checked to see his head was still attached to his neck.
Thank Christ Zed had never actually hit him. No man could survive two punches like that.
Chapter Seven
Zed had been on his share of forced marches. Part of their training at Shepard Academy had been focused on enhancing their stamina and endurance, conditioning that had been built upon when he’d moved on to specialist training and into his first posting in the AEF. During the war, there had been times when he’d had to hump dozens of kilometers in full kit. At a certain point, your body just took over, steps automatic and in time. One foot in front of the other, no matter how tired you got, how hot or how thirsty.
That training was the only thing keeping him moving now, a pace or two behind Flick as they moved toward higher ground. He’d even stopped admiring Flick’s ass. There was just nothing in him beyond the movement of his feet.
“Zed?”
Zed blinked and forced himself to focus, realizing Flick had asked him a question. It felt as if he had SFT stuffed between his ears. “Sorry. Didn’t catch that.”
Flick stopped. “You okay?”
Zed considered his answer. He felt slow and fuzzy, as if he was phase-shifted a few minutes in the past. His wrist, though—that was another matter. The bandage and splint did a decent job of keeping the bones in place, but it did nothing to cushion against movement. Every step was tiring, and when he stumbled...yeah, not fun. Not to mention it was fucking hot. And humid. He didn’t mind being planetside, usually, but he was starting to hate this rock.
“You’ve got some lag time there, huh.”
Zed grunted. “It’s hot.”
“Getting hotter too, I think.” Flick triggered his bracelet and consulted the display. “Yeah, the temperature’s climbing. This is what forty-three Celsius feels like, apparently.”
“Great.”
The storms they’d encountered entering the atmosphere seemed to be trapped above the ever-present cloud cover that turned the planet into a sauna. The temperature had been mild overnight, slightly warmer than they were used to aboard ship. As the suns approached their zenith, they couldn’t be seen clearly—but damn, they could sure feel their heat teasing sweat from their brows and odd scents from the landscape. A nutty aroma swirled around them, reminding Zed of hazelnut coffee...something that had once been his favorite drink.
“I’m getting soft,” he muttered. “When I was in covert ops, minor injuries and lack of sleep meant nothing.”
Flick shrugged and unclipped his canteen from his belt. They’d found a stream earlier—actual fresh water—and the filter built into the canteen’s material would ensure the liquid was free of microbes. He handed it over to Zed. “Wartime is different, though, right? You’re mentally prepared for hardship.”
“Maybe.” Zed tipped the canteen back, allowing himself only a few sips. The water tasted weird, warm and mineral-laden, but it was wet. He swayed a little as he brought the canteen back down, and Flick grabbed his elbow.
“You’re not really okay.” Flick’s voice was filled with concern—or maybe that was his touch. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between input from the regular five senses and their connection.
Zed handed the canteen back. “I’ll do what’s needed.”
Flick just looked at him for a few moments, tension making the scar along his cheek and jaw stand out. Zed didn’t need their link to know his lover was thinking hard about options—probably something along the lines of finding Zed a spot to rest and then continuing on alone.
“Fine,” Flick said finally. “We’ll keep walking for now. But if it gets any hotter—”
“If it gets any hotter, I’m dragging you into the shade.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
They started hiking again. The heat and close
air both conspired to send Zed back into that almost trancelike march quickly. The high ground they were aiming for didn’t seem to be getting any closer, and the absolute lack of vegetation as they gained altitude made it difficult to judge distances. For as far as Zed could see in any direction, if he lifted his eyes from Flick’s back, there were only rocks. The ground beneath their feet was rock, the dust they kicked up on occasion was ground-up rock, and the only source of shade was the larger rocks scattered here and there like forgotten marbles. Giant forgotten marbles.
The air closed in, tight and hot. One foot in front of the other. That was all that mattered.
Zed didn’t realize Flick had stopped until he walked into him. Flick grabbed his elbow and tugged him over to a half circle of giant boulders with one balanced above—an accidental cave that offered some respite from the thick air. They ducked inside. Zed’s head spun as he sank to the ground, back to the rock, his eyes closed.
“Jesus,” Flick gasped, sitting beside him. A brief pause, then, “No fucking wonder it’s getting hard to breathe. It’s forty-seven.” He pressed the canteen into Zed’s hand. “Drink.”
Zed had a few swallows, cognizant of the fact that he needed to leave enough for Flick. He held it out, eyes still closed, and focused on breathing. In, out, a steady rhythm just like the march they’d abandoned.
Flick drank, the sound of his swallows clear in the small cave, then capped the canteen. “Talk to me.”
“I hate this planet.”
Flick huffed out a half chuckle. “You and me both. Between the bugs and the heat...” He sighed. “I’m beyond glad you’re here with me. But also frustrated that you’re...here.”
Because he wasn’t safe. Yeah, Zed got that. His lips curved in a broad smile. “It’s cute when you worry about me.”
Flick made a dismissive sound. “Need some more water?”
“I’m fine. You don’t need to keep coddling me.”
“I haven’t even asked how your wrist is.”
“You’re thinking it, though.”
“Actually, I’m more worried about your head.”
Zed leaned into him. “Just tired from the heat.”
Flick shifted and Zed cracked his eyes open to see him working the rudimentary medical scan on his bracelet.
“You’re not very sneaky,” Zed murmured.
“Just sit still.” After a few seconds, the scan beeped, showing readings within normal parameters—considering the preexisting concussion and broken wrist. Core temperature was a little high, but hopefully sitting beneath the rock would help with that.
“Should scan yourself while you’re at it,” Zed suggested. “This heat, the funky water.”
Flick complied without a complaint. Like Zed, he was slightly dehydrated—and there was a minor muscle strain in his back. After checking the outside temperature again—forty-eight Celsius now—he made a noise of disgust and disengaged his bracelet. “You ever see that holo, the one with the prison planet that had virtually no atmosphere, so when the sun rose, it roasted the surface? If you weren’t in the shade, you were sausage.”
Zed turned to look at him. “No, I did not. Thanks for that thought. That’s exactly what I needed.”
“The story was pretty good.”
“Stop.”
“What? I’m just saying...”
“If I dream about roasted people during my nap, Felix, I’m not going to be happy.”
“Oh, we’re napping?”
Zed leaned more heavily against Flick. “Yeah. We’re napping.”
“Better tuck your hands and feet in closer so the sun doesn’t get them.” Zed could hear the smile in Flick’s voice.
“You are such an asshole.”
* * *
Sounds tickled his ringing ears. Scuffling and a quiet yell. Elias rolled onto his side and pushed up to his knees. By the time his vision cleared, he could hear nothing but the thrum of his pulse and the wheeze of his breath. The door hung half-open and the shop was quiet, dark and empty.
Oh God, no...
Elias turned and nearly collapsed when he saw Nessa sprawled across the floor on the other side of the hole. Limbs trembling, he crawled over and blinked down at her still form. She lay on her back, arms and legs aligned neatly, as if she’d been set down gently. Her head tilted toward the hole, the dim illumination enough to see her eyes were closed, her lips parted. She could have been asleep.
He didn’t want to touch her. He was afraid to touch her.
Elias grasped the ankle closest to him. She was so warm. How long would she remain warm if—
“Stop it,” he muttered. Moving up to her side, he touched her neck. A steady pulse beat softly against his fingers. Elias breathed out.
Nessa’s medical wallet dangled from her left hand. Elias plucked it from her fingers and brought up the diagnostic program. Over the past few months, she’d taught him the basics. He’d never be a doctor, just as he’d never be a pilot. But he made an adequate field medic. He scanned her and read the report. She’d been knocked out with one of her own hypos.
While trying not to think about the humor in the situation—perhaps later...much, much later—Elias decided Sora must also be enhanced. A super soldier. It wouldn’t have been easy to get the drop on Nessa, turn her own weapon against her. Only someone with preternatural speed and agility could have done it.
Taking her fingers in his, Elias slumped back to the ground. Until she woke up, he didn’t have anywhere to be and every time he blinked his head he took a tour of the galaxy. Gingerly, he tested his jaw. Opening his mouth caused pain. Wouldn’t Fixer think that was a riot? A quick scan determined nothing was broken, just badly bruised. Contused?
By the time he was done, another silhouette—this one familiar—filled the open doorway.
“Hey, Qek. You missed the party.”
“I surmised as much. As soon as the Blythe left her moorings, I tried calling you. I could not ping either of your wallets, which caused me much consternation.” With her eyes wide and her face smooth, Qek did look concerned. “Are you and Nessa well?”
“I think so...wait, you said the Blythe has left?”
“Approximately twenty minutes ago. The jump queue wait is minimal here.”
By the time they got back to the Chaos, she’d be gone.
“Shit.”
“‘S okay,” Nessa murmured.
“Ness!” Letting go of her hand, Elias leaned over to cup her cheek. “Hey, how are you doing?”
“Are they gone?”
“Yeah, they nearly broke my jaw and gave you a dose of your own medicine.”
Nessa chuckled quietly. “Bound to happen sooner or later.” Sobering, she added, “She was so fast.”
“They both were. Can you sit up?”
“I’ll be fine in a minute. It wasn’t a big shot. I should only have been out for an hour.”
An hour? He’d rolled around on the floor with the world spinning for that long? He must have been out for a while somewhere in there. “We lost the Blythe and Dieter’s data, whatever it was,” he said.
Nessa shook her head. “No, we didn’t and I know where the Blythe is going.”
“Where?”
“Back to Leonis. I had Marnie mess up comms on station, so they wouldn’t have been able to transmit the data from here. They might be able to do it from j-space, if the Blythe is equipped to send jazers.” Tight-beam communications and equipment were extremely expensive. Most ships relied on relay point comms, or ripcomms, in real space. “Either way, they got what they came for, so they’re probably going home.”
“That’s what you were doing while I was talking to the guy in the hole?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“So you forced them to leave.”
“I th
ought if I made getting off-station or back to their ship more important than dealing with us, we’d have a better chance.”
“It seems you were correct,” Qek said. “But what about the data?”
Nessa smiled. “You don’t think Marnie would have a backup of Dieter’s backup?”
“If she doesn’t, she’s going to be mighty pissed,” Elias said.
“I think Mrs. Scott’s temperament is the least of our current worries.”
Qek was right.
Elias smoothed his palm over the top of his head. It didn’t hurt...much. “Hopefully Zed and Fix are having an easier time on their trail.”
“They missed their last check-in,” Qek said, “but Fixer’s previous message indicated one of the planets at 83 Leonis was cloaked in an ionized atmosphere. It is possible they are experiencing difficulties with their comms equipment.”
Elias blamed his recent brush with death for the foreboding tickling the back of his neck. “When’s the next call due?”
“Tomorrow, at twelve hundred Standard.”
Nessa checked her wallet. “We could be at the asteroid by then.”
“No need to go there. If Marnie has the data, she has it. Not going to help us any. Let’s head straight to Leonis. Catch up with Fix and Zed.”
* * *
Felix didn’t nap. He watched the temperature peak at fifty Celsius, hold steady for half an hour, then mercifully begin to drop. If he and Zed ever did quit shipping shit from one end of the galaxy to another, they were not retiring to a planet. Nope. Never.
“When’s our next check-in with the Chaos?” Zed murmured.
Felix glanced over to see Zed eyeing him through puffy slits. “We’ve missed it.”
Zed licked his lips. Normally fascinated by the sight of his lover’s tongue, Felix watched the dry pink tip catch twice. Feeling just as parched, he nudged the canteen forward. “Temperature is dropping again. We should be able to get moving in an hour or so.” Assuming the banked clouds didn’t hold the heat steady all afternoon. He checked his bracelet and saw they were already back to forty-seven Celsius.