by Kelly Jensen
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Know your enemy. Even so, I didn’t expect they’d be so...blatant. They’re risking a lot by challenging the Guardians.”
“They are, but perhaps any conflict at this point is welcome, no matter if it is one with an assuredly bad outcome.” Qek’s forehead wrinkled and smoothed. “I admit, I have never understood the stin. They are far more alien to my people than humans will ever be.”
“We love you too, Qek.” Flick shot her a tired smile.
The ashie clicked in pleasure.
“So we’re not going to tell the AEF?” Nessa’s hands twisted. “Are you sure?”
Four sets of eyes turned to Zed. He felt, suddenly, as if he had a command again.
“I’m sure they already know,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile. “And if they don’t, I think Elias is right. You don’t want the attention of trying to get that message through. It’ll come to light without our input.”
“All right. That’s decided then.” Elias smacked his hands on his thighs. “I’m gonna call lights out.”
“Captain, I will remain awake and watch the c-core to ensure we do not have a repeat of tonight’s events,” Qek said.
“You sure?”
“I require fewer hours of rest. Also, a watched pot never boils.”
“That’s pretty good, Qek,” Flick said.
“Okay then. Everyone else to your bunks.” Elias flashed a crooked smile. “Hopefully we won’t blow up between now and morning.”
Chapter Nine
Felix stood and stretched tall, encouraging the blood to flow back into his numb legs. A dull ache settled into his lower back, and his toes burned as sensation returned. He reached for a strut with his left hand and missed, the metal fingers of his glove sliding past with a soft screech. Stumbling, he adjusted his aim, hooking his thumb around the narrow beam of steel. For a second he wondered if the ship had dropped from j-space again. He felt disoriented and jumbled. Gravity did not pull at his guts, though, and his head settled, leaving a vague throb behind his eyes. He was just tired. He’d gone to bed as ordered, but even a distant brush with the stin was enough to reawaken his nightmares. He’d had to sleep with more than the ship’s running lights last night. But even the soft glow of his desk lamp had not been enough to keep the horrors at bay.
Metal glinted as Felix flexed his left hand, the impulse traveling from his wrist to his fingers in a simple movement. Two shifts of his thumb, and the other four digits locked. Curl his thumb and the fingers curled to form the handy hook he used most often. The hand beneath...he closed his eyes as unease crept through his gut. He didn’t want to think about the circumstances that had nearly claimed his hand and had left him with more scars that he could count.
Never, never, never give up.
Sir Winston Churchill might not have fought the stin, but he’d fought an enemy that had motivated him to create strong and simple mantras that continued to inspire soldiers some three hundred years after his death.
“‘Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.’” Churchill again. Felix breathed out and pulled his hand from the strut. “If I had a time machine...”
A different face entered his thoughts, one quite distinct from the long-deceased Earth statesman: dark hair, blue eyes, a straight nose, full lips and the suggestion of a beard lining a strong jaw. All angles and planes, a sharp face that could gentle beneath a smile, a handsome face, one that set his pulse to fluttering and stuttering, even now.
“If I had a time machine.”
He’d go back, for sure. Not to revisit the five days he had had with Zed, his memory served well enough there. No, he’d skip through the ten or so months afterward, line up some visits, make it so he and Zed had been able to do more than leave sexy ripmails and stupid holos for one another, co-opt a ship’s relay point comms for the occasional face-to-face chat. Felix’s budget hadn’t extended to j-space messages. Jazers were the provenance of the military and the wealthy. But if he’d known how little time they had, he’d have sent at least one.
Felix wasn’t so conceited as to believe he should change the ambush that had removed him from the war, though he wouldn’t mind erasing the source of his nightmares. A man shouldn’t mess with fate, though. If he took himself and Zed out of the war, it might still be raging, taking the lives of more innocents.
“They were winning. You know that, right?”
Felix hadn’t known.
Was that why the AEF had made a team of super soldiers? Had they really believed one team might turn the tide? Thoughts ticking forward, Felix wondered if just maybe they had. The war had ended soon after Zed’s now-famous action. The Guardians had finally stepped in and slapped the hands of both sides. And the stin weren’t happy.
Bullies were never happy.
Useless rage flailed weakly inside his chest. Fatigue served as an adequate bolster. A moment later, a few deep breaths and flexes of his good hand, Felix found his center again.
He agreed with Zed’s advice that they not make an official report of what they’d seen, but he’d sent an encrypted jazer to Marnie anyway. The Chaos had enough credits tucked away for it, and she and Ryan were in military intelligence. If they didn’t already know, as Zed suspected, then it seemed right to tell them. Felix considered it payment for the lock-hacks, or maybe just duty. He wasn’t AEF anymore, but the reasons he’d served hadn’t been crushed with his hand.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Felix turned, mouth hitching up on one side. “Do I have to steal it?”
“Never,” Zed said, his voice soft. He leaned a shoulder against the nearest bulkhead, a slight sheen of perspiration on his forehead indicating Nessa had likely had him hard at work again.
“It’s more fun that way.”
A pained response wrinkled Zed’s brow, just briefly. Then he lifted his chin to indicate the c-core behind them. “Everything running smoothly?”
“Nothing in this tub runs smoothly.”
“She’s aptly named, then.”
Felix laughed. “You think we took one look at her, decided that sure, we’d risk our lives and livelihood on a ship that coughed and burped, named her the Chaos and launched ourselves into the stars.”
“You’re saying you didn’t?”
“Not quite.” Felix waved at an overturned crate. “Pull up a seat, stay awhile.” Please. He frowned to dismiss the mental whisper, hoping the plea hadn’t been evident in his voice. But he hoped Zed planned to sit, stay awhile. They’d be docking at Chloris sometime tomorrow and then...
I need a fucking time machine.
Absently rubbing his chest to ease the pinch and squeeze of his heart, Felix set his hip against the rail surrounding the core and folded his arms. He waited until Zed had settled his large frame onto the crate and then told the short version of his story. “Elias and I crewed together aboard his father’s ship for, hmm, three years? Halfway to four. Then we decided to pool our resources and strike out on our own. The Chaos wasn’t the best we could afford. In fact, she was pretty damned cheap. We spent most of our money buying Qek’s contract, which meant taking on Nessa too. They’ve been bouncing around together for ten years or more.” Felix gestured over his shoulder. “The drive is good. It’s better than good. It’s the systems wired into it that suck. Qek and I have been slowly upgrading them. Once we’re done, the Chaos will be worth ten times what we paid for it. So, it’s an investment.”
“One that coughs and burps.”
“On occasion.” Felix tilted his head. “You know what chaos means, right?”
“Complete disorder and confusion.”
“Smart ass.”
More seriously, and quietly, Zed tried again. “Something from nothingness, right?”
“Yeah.” Felix breathed out, some of the tightness in his chest easing. He’d forgotten what it was like to talk to someone who understood exactly how his mind worked. “I named her after one of the Greek deities.” One shoulde
r hitched up in a half shrug. “Kinda like your family’s stations.”
Zed’s smile warmed his entire face, making his cheeks round and his eyes glow. “I like that.”
“Thought you might.” Felix swallowed over a sudden dryness in his throat and glanced over his shoulder, preferring to look at the core rather than the man seated before him. He heard the crate shift as Zed stood again. A warm hand closed around his shoulder.
“Hey.”
Without turning, Felix stepped back along the rail until Zed’s hand slipped off. “Want to give me a hand with something?”
“Sure.” Zed sounded only vaguely disappointed he’d pulled away.
Felix stalked over to the project he’d been working on and squatted down beside the blocky shape. Normally he tinkered in the spare cabin, but seeing as they had a guest, he’d set up in engineering. He’d hoped the project might divert his thoughts from all things stin, maybe from Zed too. But, they were both out there, one closer than the other.
Zed crouched down beside him, the scent of soap and clean fabric folding in afterward. “What is it?”
“It’s for Elias. It’s a small matter printer. Like the foodfactor.” Felix chuckled at the quizzical creasing of Zed’s forehead. “Yeah, I know, the ship is falling apart and I’m fiddling with a printer too small to do much more than spit out spare bolts.” He picked up one of his discarded tools and nodded toward a small fan lying just beside it. “Want to hold that in place for me?” He indicated where it had to go. “This one is special. It’s for making models, like three dimensional maps. Elias loves his maps. Now he can download the topography of any mapped rock in the galaxy into this and print himself a model.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah.”
He screwed in the fan, his hand moving over Zed’s, their wrists brushing together. Then he connected the lead, tested it, made an adjustment and tested the fan again. Zed withdrew his hand at some point. Felix looked for it and found the final component instead. He picked up the small flexible plastic panel, connected it to the power source and slotted it into the front of the unit. A quick double tap woke the display.
Putting the multi-tool aside, Felix released a quiet breath. “So, that’s done, basically.” He glanced over at Zed to find the other man already looking at him, blue eyes sharply intent. “What?”
“I missed watching you tinker. It’s...it’s like the essential you, Flick.”
The truth of the statement—or truths—struck Felix squarely in the chest. His head jerked as he thought about ducking his chin, maybe coming up with some sort of denial, rebuttal or change of conversational direction. He didn’t want to look away, though. The hours were counting down; he and Zed had so few left together before fate teased them apart again.
“You know what I miss?”
One of Zed’s brows quirked upward.
“Your music.” He missed more than that. A hell of a lot more. But if he were to strip away the details, delve to the core of the man he had loved, Zed’s ability to weave disparate notes into a melody would be one of the things that remained. His melodies had been haunting—weird as hell, sometimes, but they’d never failed to elicit some sort of reaction, even if it was just a shudder. “That’s like the essential you, Zed. The way you move, the way you sound. You’re like music, with your plans. It’s...” Damn it, his ears were burning again. He glanced down. “Pretty sure I’ve blushed more in the last few days than I have in the last nine years.”
“Your freckles disappear when you blush hard enough.”
Felix lifted his chin. “I don’t have freckles.”
“You used to.”
The scent of Zed filled his nose. They were too close and their conversation had drifted toward things that were too personal, but Felix found himself unable to pull away. The thing between them, the attraction they’d never quite defined, was still there. No span of years could dull it. Unbidden, his hand shifted so that his fingers brushed against Zed’s. It wasn’t a sexy touch, not bold, not even flirtatious. But the charge that traveled back through his fingers almost hurt. He felt it in his chest and his groin.
Zed leaned toward him.
“We shouldn’t,” Felix said, leaning too, despite his warning.
“Yeah.” Zed closed the distance, his features becoming indistinct as his nose collided with Felix’s. Their lips brushed together, both seeking, then pulled apart, breath whistling between.
“You’re just so damned sexy when you tinker,” Zed murmured.
“You look really hot in black,” Felix whispered over Zed’s cheek.
The short beard prickled his lips as he explored the line of Zed’s jaw, moving out toward an ear. There, his tongue flicked out to tease. Zed’s answering groan warmed his neck and then hands were at his shoulders, pulling him up and away from the floor. Protests silenced by the thrum of his pulse, Felix let himself be manhandled. Zed put him against the warm wall and leaned in.
The kiss felt like all the others they’d shared. Heated and intense, flavored with more desire than either of them knew what to do with. Felix’s brain shut down, all blood directed to other parts, to the hands push-pulling at Zed’s shoulders, the toes already curling in his boots, to the hips bumping forward, the bulge in his pants seeking something more than the rub of his zipper. His heart wanted to join in the rush, thumping and squeezing. Felix ignored the pangs and warnings, the brushes against his soul. It was just a kiss, a heated and needy kiss, lips alternately mashing and pecking, tongues teasing, teeth clacking. Tasting...
God, Zed tasted just the same. How could he taste the same? How had he remembered that subtle flavor, the one beneath the toothpaste? The warmth and spice that was Zed. Only Zed.
Groaning, Felix grabbed a hold of Zed’s shoulders and angled his hip forward, nudging the other man back a step, and then around, taking a turn at pressing the object of his desire up against a wall. Zed went willingly, his nose tucking into Felix’s ear, teeth catching his cheek in a soft graze.
“Should stop.”
Felix’s throat moved. “Can’t.”
He grabbed at Zed’s hips, pulled them against his, ground forward into the heat buried in the other man’s groin. A guttural moan filled his ear next, a hot breath, a tongue whisking past, the cool trail of moisture making him shiver. His pants were beyond tight, even worn as they were. Felix could feel the pull across his ass. He snuck a hand between them, fingers seeking the curve of Zed’s cock, the hard ridge behind his fly. Another groan washed his ear, then those full lips claimed his again.
He began fumbling with Zed’s belt, only to feel the smooth buckle pull out of his hands as Zed seized his shoulders and flipped them once more. Felix met the wall with a thud that rocked through his lean frame. A breath jolted from his lungs, but his head was already spinning. He couldn’t get any dizzier if he tossed himself into the c-core.
Zed’s mouth descended over his. Felix pushed up into the kiss, the hunger in his body driving him forward. His hands found the hem of Zed’s sexy black shirt and quickly tugged it up. Zed shrugged out of it in one deft movement, the material fluttering to the floor.
Felix pushed at his bare chest, breathed into the sweaty sphere of attraction between them and huffed out a word. “Wait.”
“Flick...” Zed breathed, wrapping a hand around the back of Felix’s head, fingers delving into his curls.
Felix pulled at his glove. “I want to touch you properly.” He wanted to touch Zed with both hands, not metal and wire.
“Hurry.”
The glove clattered to the floor beside the discarded shirt and Felix raised both hands and pressed them to Zed’s chest, his fingers slipping into the soft hair curling over the soldier’s sculpted pecs. His breath puffed in and out in dizzying gasps, and it seemed a mist had risen between them. It was a moment, one into which they both breathed, before Zed leaned down to kiss him again. A soft whine tickling his throat, Felix lifted his chin to meet the kiss, falling into it
fully conscious. His hands smoothed over Zed’s chest, up and over his shoulders and then back down, his thumb catching a taut nipple. Zed gasped into his mouth.
A tug at his belt pulled Felix’s hips forward. His pants loosened with a cool brush of air, sliding down his thighs, one rough hand pushing them lower. A vague thought slipped through his head—that their state of undress now matched, in an inverse way. A bottom for a top. Or a top for a bottom. The labels circled through his blood-starved brain, dropped to his ass with a squeeze. No, that was Zed’s hand.
“Jesus, God.”
“Just me,” Zed murmured. Only he could pull off humble arrogance.
Warm fingers closed about his cock and Felix stopped thinking. He became an extension of his penis, all nerve endings terminating at one point, his life sucked into a single appendage. Zed’s lips might have grazed his chin; teeth might have left a mark on his neck. Zed’s dark head dropped down, followed by a long, throaty groan.
“Zed...”
Felix pushed his fingers into Zed’s hair, the silky strands flopping over his knuckles. Closing his eyes, he let his head drop back against the wall, aware his mouth had pulled open. His throat worked up and down and a shiver raced across his skin. Zed’s lips had only touched his thigh. Breath tickled his balls and a warm, wet tongue pushed against his erection. Felix sucked in a breath and Zed took advantage of the pause—not to tease, but to take him into his mouth.
Lust vibrated in the back of Felix’s throat, through his chest, down to his groin.
Fingers curling in Zed’s hair, Felix resisted the urge to pump into Zed’s throat, exhibit the need of a man starving for sex, for the touch of another man. A hand, a mouth...God, his lips. A tight ring halfway down his shaft, teasing. Zed’s hand enfolded the rest of him, completing the feeling of being inside. Felix shuddered, his legs trembling, and tightened his grip on Zed’s head, the fingers of his right hand seeking an ear.