Lonely Shore

by Jenn Burke

  He let his hands drop back to his sides. “I shouldn’t feel this naïve, Eli. This surprised by the AEF’s ability to deceive their own.” Which should be beside the point. “The tech might be out there, but Zed doesn’t have time. And if I take him to Alpha now, he’ll find a way to duck and cover, I know it. He’ll think I betrayed him.” And I will have. “I can’t do that to him.”

  Not after everyone else had let him down.

  “Not even if they can help?”

  “I’ll talk to him again when he’s awake and…clear-headed. See if we can’t just call Brennan, maybe. Put out some feelers. Maybe put him in contact with Marnie.” If anyone could find files of unpublished AEF research into the aftereffects of Project Dreamweaver, Marnie could.

  Elias’s head bobbed up and down a few times. “Good. Brennan seems pretty solid and he obviously cares about his brother.”

  “They all do, Eli. That’s what makes this so fucked up. I mean, I get why he doesn’t want them to see him like this. After…” He sucked in a quick breath. “I wouldn’t have been in any fit state to see my family for months after the war.” A moot point, seeing as his family had all been killed early in the conflict, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t imagined it.

  “Did you ever contact Zed’s family…after, you know…”

  “Yeah.” Felix showed Elias the bracelet encircling his left wrist. “Alexander, Zed’s dad, gave me my first bracelet.” The wrist-model wallet that had been so well suited to an all-but-one-handed man. “He offered more.”

  “Which you didn’t take.”

  “I’m not the one they wanted. They couldn’t find Zed either, and I would never have been an acceptable substitute.”

  “You can give him to them now.”

  If it were that simple, he would.

  Huffing out a sigh, Felix tipped his head toward the companionway. “Let’s go to the med bay. My hands hurt like motherfuckers.”

  After hauling himself up the steep stairs with far less than his usual grace, he turned down the corridor toward the med bay and gingerly tapped the panel to open the hatch. It slid back to reveal Nessa and Qek staring at a holo. On-screen was an image Felix wished he didn’t recognize—a human brain rendered in bright splotches of color. Zed’s brain.

  Without preamble, he moved to the drawers of first aid supplies Nessa kept ready for the crew. Ness caught sight of his hands and followed. She didn’t say a word; none were really needed. They were all long familiar with his moods, and this wasn’t the first time he’d punched something until his knuckles swelled and bled.

  The pain flared as she ghosted his left hand with an antiseptic wand. Warmth swaddled his knuckles a moment later as she applied a numbing agent. Then came the derm patches. Felix could hear Qek and Elias murmuring quietly together. He didn’t interrupt. He figured if Qek had solved the mystery of Zed’s brain, she’d speak up. Then a single word caught his attention, pulling him forward in an effort to hear more.

  “What was that? About the stin.”

  Qek turned her wide-eyed gaze toward him and he noted that the bruise across her cheek had faded a little. Given the blue tones of her skin, the mark appeared mottled rather than varicolored. The sight of the injury stoked the barely quieted rage in his belly. Ashushk were such a peaceful species—the thought anyone might want to harm one made him ill.

  “Humanity is not the only species to have experimented with the stin ability to Zone and phase-shift,” Qek said, halting the rolling tide of thought battering the inside of Felix’s skull.

  “Wait, what? Do you mean there are ashie super soldiers?”

  Qek’s wide face smoothed and wrinkled before she replied. “Yes.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Hold still,” Nessa warned as he started to pull his hand away from the derm patch she was trying to apply.

  Elias frowned. “You knew?”

  She glanced up. “Just now. Qek and I were tossing around some options.”

  “Options?” Felix tugged at his hand again, growling softly when Ness held it still. “What do you mean?”

  “Nessa and I were discussing the possibility of taking Mr. Anatolius to Ashushk Prime.” The ashushk home planet had another name, a much longer, convoluted string of consonants and barely related vowels that no human tongue could replicate. For their sake, Qek usually referred to it by the simple designation humanity had stamped it with.

  “Did your soldiers…” Felix tripped over the words. “Are they…”

  “I do not know the details of the program. Like your own, it was kept very quiet. But I have a friend who was involved.”

  “So you knew what Zed was before he told us,” Elias said.

  “No. But I suspected.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I did not think the comparison relevant until now.”

  “What do you mean?” Felix asked.

  “The conflict between the ashushk and the stin was one and a half Standard centuries ago. If not for my friend, I might not have even credited rumor insisting we had had such a program. With Mr. Anatolius’s worsening condition, I did a little research and discovered that though we lost a few soldiers early on, the majority lived long and productive lives.”

  “Productive? As in healthy and sane?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Did they affect the outcome of your war with the stin?” Elias asked.

  What did that matter?

  Felix opened his mouth to ask a more pertinent question, but Qek was already speaking.

  “The ashushk are not a combative species. The only reason we survived as long as we did was our superior technology. Our enhanced soldiers were not used the same way as yours. Rather, we used the knowledge we gained from them to develop weapons that might defeat the stin.”

  “But you didn’t defeat them,” Nessa put in. “The Guardians stepped in and ended the war.”

  That should be significant, but Felix brushed the thought process aside in favor of the glimmer of hope Qek’s announcement ignited. The fire in his gut shot up to his chest—painful but acceptable. If the ashushk soldiers were well, then something might be done for Zed. They were different species, but advanced ashushk techniques had already revolutionized human medicine.

  “The weapons?” Elias asked.

  Qek shrugged. “I do not know.”

  “They don’t have them. They’d have shared them with us if they did,” Felix said, dismissing what he considered an irrelevant thread of the conversation. “Qek…do you think your scientists could help Zed?”

  Nessa was shaking her head. At the gesture, Qek lifted her chin.

  “What?” Felix asked, looking between them.

  “The AEF wouldn’t like it,” Elias said.

  “The AEF can go fuck themselves.” Felix hissed as Nessa caught hold of his right hand. The knuckles had started to swell and his fingers were so stiff, he couldn’t move them independently.

  Nessa picked up her wand and spoke as if passing comment on the state of his hand. Her words didn’t make sense at first. “If Qek goes home, she might gender.”

  If the proverbial pin dropped, Felix didn’t hear it.

  “What do you mean ‘might’?” Elias asked.

  “Gendering is not a choice. Though we do not experience love, our people are a closely tied species. When we congregate, our bodies can respond to the needs of the group.”

  Felix glanced at Nessa. “You knew about this too, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. Hold still.”

  He clenched his teeth as Nessa passed the wand over the back of his right hand, then breathed out as the anesthetic took hold. The haze of relief thickened his tongue as he sought words for the questions he wanted to ask. Damn, he was tired. “So…you, your friend might be able to help, but if we go to A Prime, you could end up stuck there.”

  Forever. Gendered ashushk had to give up their former careers, didn’t they? For all her interest in human sexual practices, Qek was un
usually reticent on the subject of her own species’ reproductive process. Regardless, losing their pilot would suck, particularly for Qek. Though she enjoyed flying the Chaos, she was in it for the travel. If there was a job at the far end of nowhere, that was the one she wanted to take, just so they could add a pin to her mental map of the galaxy.

  “That is correct.” Qek’s wrinkles had smoothed, showing her consternation.

  Fatigue swamped Felix. Chin dipping, he let his suddenly heavy head cant forward, his shoulders round down. He stopped protesting Nessa’s treatment of his hands.

  Both options had a price. Zed’s family would do all in their power to aid their son, but what would it cost them? What would it cost Felix to betray his best friend? The ashushk scientists might already hold a missing piece of the puzzle and their ingenuity might serve to adapt it. But the potential cost to Qek would be too great. And Zed had already shot down any mention of contacting Marnie. Bastard seemed determined to die.

  No one had said it—Ness hadn’t actually confirmed it one way or another. But Felix knew how machines worked, and the human body was nothing if not a very sophisticated and complicated machine. Zed’s was breaking down.

  Covering his eyes with his bandaged hands, Felix said the only thing that summed up the situation. “Fuck!”

  Chapter Eight

  Zed leaned against the wall, his usual spot on the bridge, and hoped it wasn’t obvious to everyone else just how much he needed the support to stay upright. His head ached, a hard, throbbing pain that his morning dose of painkillers had barely touched. He should ask Ness for more, he knew he should, but he was caught in this weird headspace of wanting to be truthful and wanting to protect Flick from the truth. Though…he knew already, didn’t he? Hadn’t they talked?

  The holes in his memory were getting bigger.

  “Ah, Central.” Elias looked as if he’d smelled something particularly bad. “I hate this station.”

  Ness arched a brow. “Too clean-cut for you?”

  “Don’t kid yourself. Central is just like all the politicians that mill about down on Mars—they look pretty and put-together, but that’s just hiding how corrupt and awful they are.”

  Flick grunted. “Careful, Eli. Your inner anarchist is showing.”

  Qek’s long blue fingers poked and prodded at holos as she guided the ship closer to their destination. “I find it difficult to believe that the station that acts as the gateway to the human government establishment would be as contaminated as you say.”

  “Absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Flick intoned.

  She clicked, considering. “A fair point.”

  Zed thought about adding his input into the conversation—he’d lived on Central for a few months after a shovel to the back of his head had ended his posting on Outrock—but talking about something so inconsequential seemed really not worth the effort. Instead, he just watched the holo display.

  Central was more formally known as the Central Alliance of Planets and Stations, which resulted in the stupid acronym of CAPS—so everyone just called it Central. On Mars below, the human government operated out of a secure domed campus that kept the harshness of the planet at bay. Mars had never truly been tamed, but the environment worked as a natural layer in the security system. The only way in or out of the dome was through the station hovering in geostationary orbit. All access to the government proper was monitored and controlled—all traffic had to originate or terminate at either the station or the dome, nothing else. That particular bit of security had been implemented after a terrorist attack following humanity’s invitation to the galactic playpen.

  The things people would do when they were scared.

  “You’re sure Agrius doesn’t have any operations here?” Ness couldn’t hide the worry in her voice. Zed knew she was still shaken up by what had happened on Risus. He saw it on her face whenever she caught sight of Qek’s healing bruise. “If it’s as corrupt as you say it is…”

  “Marnie assured me Agrius has no foothold in Sol,” Flick said, his tone reassuring.

  “Right. And it’s not an Anatolius station,” Elias added with a glance at Zed. The fact that the crew was taking his wishes into account…it should have made him feel better than it did. “We’ll have time to catch our breath, maybe pick up some jobs in the home system. We could even make a stop at Earth for Qek to go sightseeing again.”

  Qek’s face wrinkled with pleasure. “I would like to see Antarctica. My homeworld does not experience that sort of cold or buildup of ice.”

  “Yeah, or maybe not.” Flick shuddered, then leaned toward the screen, eyes narrowed. “Is that a—”

  Cold fingers sliced through the recycled air of the ship, sinking deep into Zed. Dimly he noted that the rest of the crew was shivering as well, but he was too caught up in the sensation of intrusion. His balls shrank, his gut tightened and the pain in his head spiked—then calmed.

  “What the hell?” Elias gasped.

  “That was a Guardian ship.” Even Qek’s voice sounded less steady than usual. “We were just scanned. It appears they are scanning all vessels approaching or leaving Central.”

  “The peace accord at the Hub.” Flick squirmed in his seat, as though he was trying to erase the sense of fingers poking through his insides. Or maybe his balls had made a run for safety too. “They’re making sure there’s no funny stuff.”

  A few hundred thousand klicks behind them hovered the gate that gave humanity direct access to the Hub. From experience, passing through it was uncomfortable. Having his molecules transported and put back together—or whatever it was that the gate did—would definitely not help his headache any, so he was glad they were skipping that particular joy for now.

  “You mean we’re going to have to go through that again when we leave?” Elias looked decidedly green. “Shit.”

  “Fun.” Everyone turned to Zed and he realized it was the first he’d spoken in…a while. He turned away from their scrutiny, leaning his temple against the wall. A flashing light on Qek’s console caught his attention. “Message?”

  “Yes. A ripmail holo for Elias.” She clicked. “Would you like to accept it?”

  “Who’s it from?”

  “That information has been withheld.”

  “Of course it has.” Elias sighed. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

  The torso of a man floated in the middle of the bridge. Though the holo wasn’t the best quality—thanks to it being a recorded ripmail transmission instead of a more secure and tighter live jazer—Zed could tell the man’s skin was darker than Eli’s, his eyes a deep brown. His hair was gathered in strict, small braids that curved around the shape of his head and were pulled into a neat bun at the nape of his neck. He wore a serviceable SFT blouse in a muted color that might have been blue or gray—it was hard to tell in the flickering holo.

  He smiled for the camera. “Greetings, Captain Idowu. My name is Salataje Nynt, and I am the Grand Moth of Agrius.”

  “The Grand Moth?” Flick muttered. “Is he fucking kidding?”

  “I do apologize for the quality of this transmission, but I did not know if your ship had the capacity to receive a jazer. Though that is neither here nor there.” Nynt’s eyes seemed to twinkle. Whatever the guy’s point—and Zed hoped he made it soon—it was clear he was in a good mood. That might be good for the Chaos. It also might be very, very bad.

  “Your time is valuable, so I will not digress further. I wish to negotiate with you on behalf of the Agrius organization. Preferably in person, though I will understand if you do not wish to meet.”

  “Oh hell no, we’re not meeting—”

  “Fix, shush.”

  Nynt’s expression sobered slightly. “That said, I hope you understand that a face-to-face meeting is not something I offer lightly or to many individuals. I will transmit contact coordinates following the holo. Please reply within twenty-four hours to confirm receipt of this message and inform me if you wish to enter negotiations. Thank you, Captain,
and may your skies be clear.”

  Ness was the first to speak after Nynt’s image winked out. “I don’t even know what to think of that. They want to negotiate? With us?”

  “Nope, they don’t. It’s a trap.” Flick leaned back in his seat, his features set into a disbelieving frown. “Total trap. Tell me I’m not the only one seeing it.”

  Elias tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, his face twisted up into the expression that Zed recognized as his thinking face. “We don’t know enough.”

  “Exactly. Maybe he’s not even connected to Agrius. Maybe this is some massive con—”

  “No. Mr. Nynt sent along confirmation of his identity with the contact coordinates,” Qek reported, clicking as she scanned the information on the ripmail interface. Her fingers flew over another window and she clicked again. “I have confirmed he is who he said he is—the Grand Moth of Agrius.”

  “What kind of title is that, anyway? Other than a stupid one?” Flick scoffed. “You’re not considering replying, Eli.”

  Elias scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve got a day to think about it, right? So I’m going to think about it.”

  “The whole point of coming to Central was so that we were out of Agrius’s territory.”

  “I know, but…” Elias shook his head. “I need to think about it.”

  Zed didn’t miss that no one asked for his opinion. A few days ago, he might have been insulted. Now, though, he was just glad he didn’t have to talk. He closed his eyes as Flick launched into another set of reasons why they couldn’t trust Nynt’s message—and suddenly someone was touching his arm, jolting him back to awareness. The pain between his temples flared, making him squint.

  Ness watched him with compassion in her gaze and a slight, sad smile on her lips. “Why don’t you go lie down, hon?”

  Yeah. Lying down sounded like a good idea. “Can I get another dose?” It was early, but…he needed it.

  “Sure.” Ness cupped his elbow and guided him toward the door. “Let’s get you settled and I’ll go get it.”