Chaos Station 01 - Chaos Station

by Kelly Jensen

  “No, Zed.” Nessa grabbed his arm and he realized he must have spoken aloud. “Not your fault.”

  Rather than argue when he felt as though he were carrying the weight of an entire station on his shoulders, Zed just closed his eyes. No helping Emma now, but...”Where’s Flick?” he asked, his voice tight.

  Behind his closed eyelids, Flick smiled at him, that perfectly lopsided dimple teasing and enticing. His chest hurt, pounding in time with his temples. Please don’t point me to another body. Please let him have run off to try to find help, find my brother, anything but there being another body of a friend here or...or...

  “Zed. C’mon, come back.” Nessa rubbed his arm. “We’re gonna have to look for him. I didn’t see him fall.”

  “He’s a stubborn fucker,” Elias said.

  Zed nodded, his brow furrowing as pain spiked. Nessa tucked a hand into her belt pouch, her fingers bouncing around inside the fabric for an instant before she pulled out a little plastic bag with two pills. “Open up.”

  “What—”

  “Pain meds. Nothing too intense, just enough to take the edge off.”

  Zed opened his mouth for Nessa to pop them in. “Did you—”

  “I found the ones she stole from you, yeah,” Ness said, her voice subdued. “I didn’t want to leave them.”

  He pushed himself back to his feet and swayed for a second before righting himself. Wincing at the flare of irritation between his temples, Zed started moving. He used his feet to shove bodies aside, moving or not; bending made the pain intensify. His breathing grew more ragged with every form he nudged aside, with every notch of hope that dwindled away.

  He couldn’t think about what it would mean if he found Flick lying still and motionless underneath one of the Agrius goons. He couldn’t...The universe wouldn’t be that cruel. Not that fucking cruel, please God, just let him be alive.

  “Flick?” Zed kicked aside another body. No trace, no sign, nothing. “Flick? Felix!”

  He gritted his teeth as the shout reverberated in his head, then froze. His gaze jerked up to meet Elias’s.

  “You heard that too?” Elias leaped over two of the Agrius bodies and ducked behind a container. “Fixer!”

  Zed careened to a stop beside Elias and stared down into the black pit exposed by a dislodged grate between a pair of containers. Another moan drifted up out of the darkness. It might be Flick. It might be an Agrius goon. It was really fucking hard to tell by a moan on its own.

  “Flick?” Zed leaned over the edge of the pit, trying to see into the black.

  “Ow. Fucker.”

  Weakness flashed through Zed’s knees. That was Flick. His voice was rough and weary, but it was him.

  “Get off me, get—oh.” A raspy chuckle floated upward, followed by the sound of a body shifting. “He’s dead, that’s why he’s not moving.”

  “You okay?” Zed called down, trying to keep his voice steady.

  A pause. “Yeah. I feel like a pancake. Some asshole fell on me...” Flick groaned. “I think he took a bullet.”

  “Better him than you.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “We’ve got to move,” Nessa said. “What’s left of Agrius is bugging out.”

  A big hand landed on Zed’s shoulder. “I’ll get him,” Elias said. “C’mon, lazy, you sleep too much.”

  “Fuck you, Eli.”

  Zed closed his eyes and focused on not breaking down. He’d lost one friend today, a dear friend, but he’d survive Emma’s death. If Flick had died...

  Another hand gripped his shoulder and he looked over at Nessa. She didn’t say anything, and she didn’t have to. The understanding in her deep brown eyes said enough.

  * * *

  Five figures stood in the shadow of the closed cargo door of the Chaos. Sucking in a sharp breath, Felix quickly surveyed the smart uniforms of the pair flanking a larger man and two other suits. Had Qek notified station security early?

  Elias called a halt by simply stopping in the middle of the concourse. Smacking into his back, Nessa issued a muffled grunt. For about the hundredth time since they’d left the warehouse, Felix tapped his bare left wrist. For about the hundredth time, a pang of loss wound through him, sharp but unrefined. He hadn’t been able to find his bracelet in that dark hole, not with the threat of Agrius possibly regrouping...and that was the least of his woes. His glove was mangled beyond repair, his left hand brutalized. His ribs were bruised and it felt like someone had whacked him across the back of the head with a crowbar. The fingers of his right hand were abraded and he didn’t even know why, but they still functioned, thank all those useless gods.

  And Emma was dead.

  That hurt. Her sacrifice and death delivered equal knocks to his soul. No doubt Zed felt worse, but Felix felt her loss keenly enough.

  They’d only just found her...They had damned near rescued her.

  Felix huffed out a breath that left him feeling hollow. “Think they’re station security?”

  “If they are, we can report the incident in the Agrius warehouse,” Elias said.

  “Right,” Nessa drawled. “We were on our way to pick up goods and heard gunfire.”

  Despite the fatigue trying to pull him through the floor, the sorrow trying to burn a hole through him, Felix found a small smile. “We don’t look like innocent bystanders.”

  Elias’s shirt had a hole in the back and he had a curious smudge on the side of his neck. They must have missed that when doing the obvious bloodstain check. Nessa’s arm hung in a makeshift sling, but the bandage wrapped around the wound still looked like a castoff SFT. Being shirtless and splattered in the blood of the man who had died on top of him would have drawn more attention than the garish purple number Felix had pulled from another dead Agrius, but only just. Purple was not his color.

  Zed...

  Felix turned a slow circle, which hurt, damn it, and tried to keep breathing as a quick visual search showed no sign of Zed. “Where’s Zed?”

  Zed had been quiet on the walk back; they had all been. Rather than press him to talk about the stuff they’d have to cover eventually—Emma’s death and what that meant—Felix had let him brood. A guy needed time to gather his thoughts, and he figured they’d chat later, maybe after getting cleaned up. Definitely after some sleep.

  Now Zed was gone and Felix knew it was no fucking coincidence.

  His circle ended in front of Nessa, where he flinched away from the sympathy evident in her expression. She touched his arm and he shook her off. “Just...don’t.”

  Elias grumbled, his words squashed. He might have said something like “selfish fucker.” Ignoring that, too, Felix looked between the ship and the station. He chose the ship, figuring an altercation with station security would cap a bad day in a spectacular fashion. He could use an easy target. When the identity of the larger man became clear, he stopped short again.

  “Brennan.”

  He’d exchanged a couple of messages with Zed’s older brother over the past four years, but hadn’t actually seen him in more than twelve. Brennan looked just like Zed, or a cleaner, less haunted version: big, bold, too bloody handsome for his own good and glowing beneath the veneer of confidence that made every Anatolius shine. Except...

  With one of those galaxy-spinning clicks, Felix realized that Zed had all but lost that. He still shone, to Felix’s eyes, because he was Zed. To him, Zander Anatolius had always been larger than life, an ideal—not one Felix strived to emulate, he was himself, and content to be so—but a man he looked up to.

  The man he had traveled with over the past week had lost his polish. Zed still wore clothes that fit him well, still moved with grace that a big man shouldn’t possess, and could still set hearts galloping with a smile. Felix knew without a moment’s consideration that he still looked up to Zed, even though the idea of doing so struck him as juvenile. But Zed no longer glowed with possibility, even though he should.

  Brennan saw him and his perfect face creased into a sm
ile. “Felix! Wow, you look—”

  “Like something the something dragged in, yeah. It’s been, ah, a day.”

  After scrubbing his right hand on his pants, Felix extended it toward Zed’s brother. Brennan knocked it out of the way and pulled him into a smothering hug. “It’s great to see you.”

  Felix indulged the larger man for a couple of seconds, doing the back-patting thing, before pulling away. To his credit, Brennan didn’t appear to have noticed the brush-off. Instead, he continued to smile his diplomat smile and, damn, it just looked genuine, as if he didn’t care that Felix had just rumpled his ten-thousand-credit suit. Yep, an Anatolius, through and through.

  Clearing his dry throat, Felix made introductions. “Brennan Anatolius, this is my business partner and captain of the Chaos, Elias Idowu.” The two men shook hands. “And our doctor, Nessa O’Brien.”

  “Ms. O’Brien.”

  Nessa received an alternate version of the patented smile and Felix did not miss the twin spots of color touching her cheeks. Neither did Elias, judging by his dark look.

  Brennan turned back to Felix. “Where’s Zander?”

  Felix rubbed his cheek. “Um...”

  “Mr. Anatolius hired us to do a job,” Elias said. “With the task complete, our business is concluded.”

  Felix dipped his chin and concentrated on breathing evenly. Now would not be a good time to drop to the deck and give in to hysterics. He was too damned tired, for a start, and not prone to tantrums anyway. More, he just wanted sink into a hole, even though close, dark places scared the spit out of him. Maybe that was the point.

  Surely Zed hadn’t just gone.

  Sudden inspiration pulled his chin up. Had Zed pissed off in order to avoid his brother? Felix met Brennan’s inquiring gaze, and then wished he hadn’t.

  “Business concluded, hmm?” Eyes of steely blue flicked over the collection of injuries arrayed in front of him. “Do I need to ask where the bodies are?”

  Felix winced. “You probably shouldn’t.”

  “Not sure I like the sound of that.”

  Holding up his hands, Felix said, “No one there who shouldn’t have been there. Except maybe us.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back, cursing the obvious nature of his caution even as he moved. “We had business with the Agrius Cartel.”

  Brennan’s expression darkened. “Not something to admit lightly, Flick.”

  “It’s not an ongoing thing, trust me. We’re not...fuck it. We stepped on their toes, by accident. They just tried to stomp us back.” Looking around again, he added, “Our, ah, altercation was confined to one of their warehouses.”

  Nodding, Brennan leaned toward one of his aides. The impeccably dressed woman unfolded a slim wallet and began poking holographic keys.

  “Should we take that as our cue to quit the station fast as possible?” Elias asked.

  “You’ll probably want to do that anyway, and avoid any station with a significant Agrius presence for a while. But I can try to make this mess go away.” Brennan lifted his chin toward Felix. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  Felix resisted the urge to make eye contact with his crew before deciding to give Brennan an edited version of the story. “We came to help out an old friend. She’s been helped, but it got messy.”

  “And Zed? Was this the job he hired you to do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This old friend, was it someone from the Academy?”

  Felix answered with a nod.

  Brennan blew out a sigh and pushed his fingers through his dark hair. For a moment his Anatolius glow dimmed, and when he leaned forward, he spoke in a low, urgent tone. “Is he still here, Flick?”

  “I don’t know. He was with us until...”

  “Until he saw me.” Brennan straightened and his eyes darkened with hurt. “Damn it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He’s cut out on you, too, hasn’t he?”

  Scowling, Felix turned away. Brennan grabbed his arm.

  “How is he? What can you tell me?”

  Felix considered shaking him off, but didn’t have the heart to do it. Brennan loved his brother and, damn it, Zed should be with his family now more than ever. Fuck the AEF and their directives.

  “He doesn’t like being retired.”

  “Yeah, I figured that much out.”

  “It can take a while, Brennan. After service, after...” Felix swallowed as memories rose up and threatened to choke him. “The war...it...” He caught Brennan’s gaze, begged him to understand so he didn’t have to put it into words.

  Brennan’s gaze flicked back and forth, taking in his scars, the crooked line of his nose, and, no doubt, the shadows under his eyes. In his eyes. He let go of Felix’s arm. “Okay, yeah. I get it.”

  “He loves you. All of you. He said so when I...”

  “When you tried to talk him into keeping this meeting,” Brennan finished for him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault, Flick. And...thanks. You know, for trying.”

  Felix nodded in a distracted manner. “If I see him, want me to pass along a message?”

  Brennan fidgeted in place a moment, which was a very un-Anatolius thing to do. “Tell him we love him. No matter what’s going on, we’re here.”

  He knows that. Or he damned well should.

  “Okay. I’ll tell him. If I see him.”

  “I hope you do. You’ve always been a good friend to Zed.”

  Felix’s throat constricted. “Him too.”

  Stepping back, Brennan nodded to the rest of the crew, who had probably only managed to stay so quiet because they were nearly asleep on their feet. “Berth fees are paid for as long as you stay, though I recommend you leave as soon as possible. No offense intended.”

  “None taken.” Elias extended his hand again. “Good to meet you, Mr. Anatolius.”

  “Brennan.” Another firm shake. He nodded toward Nessa and turned back to Felix. “If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

  “I will. Thanks, Brennan.”

  With a grin that changed the entire mood of his face, Brennan reached up and mussed Felix’s hair. “Anytime, kid.”

  After Brennan left the dock, Elias asked, “Zed ever travel with a bevy of butt-wipers?”

  “Nope. I dunno. Maybe?” Felix thought back to his childhood, a weary smirk pulling at his mouth. “He never did on Pontus. He had me.” And fuck if that didn’t hurt, that little snippet of memory combined with the retreating figure of a man who looked a lot like his brother.

  Ducking his chin, Felix turned around and gestured to the sealed cargo door. “We going in or what?”

  “You forget the code or something?” Elias tapped the lock, waking the display.

  “Was on my bracelet.”

  “Great, so now the most feared cartel in the galaxy has our front door key.”

  “We can change the code.”

  “Guys?” Nessa looked between them. “Can we save the bickering for later? I’m just too tired to pull you apart.”

  “I wasn’t...” Felix peeked sideways at his companions. Elias looked like he’d crawled through the exhaust of station life support, and that was saying something, given his skin was dark to begin with. And Nessa’s bright hair hung in matted strands around her face. Grime also smudged her cheeks. “Man, we look rough. It’s a wonder we didn’t get arrested on the way here.”

  Nessa nodded at his purple shirt. “No one wanted to get too close to that.”

  Felix pulled at the garish material. “I’m gonna burn it.”

  Elias smiled. “I wanna watch.”

  * * *

  Elias studied the closed hatch for a long, j-space kinda minute before knocking.

  “It’s open,” came the desultory reply from within.

  He could have called ahead, but Elias hadn’t wanted to give Fix a chance to brush him off. He worried for his friend. His head and his heart.

  The hatch slid open to reveal Fi
xer sitting cross-legged on his bed, his mangled glove, a stack of flexible joints and three or four temp wallets arrayed around him. Suppressing a smile, Elias noted the engineer hadn’t dismantled any of the wallets...yet. The delicate circuitry embedded in the flexible plastic couldn’t be rearranged with the usual set of tools, and even temp wallets were notoriously difficult to hack. Fixer would find a way, though, and he’d make something usable and useful.

  Elias’s humor dimmed at the clumsy movements of Fix’s ungloved, bandaged left hand, at the bow of his shoulders, and the tangle of dark blond curls that had been washed and left to dry without any thought to arrangement. Fixer wasn’t a particularly small man, or young. Then and there, though, he looked like a kid who’d lost his best friend.

  “What’s up?”

  Fixer glanced up. “You.” Lips twisting into a parody of a smile, he jerked his head toward the other end of the bed. “Have a seat.”

  Elias sat, careful not to disturb the collection of smaller components strewn across the blankets. “How’re you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m okay. Sore. Nessa used all the hot water, so I’m clean but not feeling squeaky.”

  “Not exactly what I mean, Fix.”

  “Yeah, I know, but that’s all you’re gonna get.” Fixer looked up from the wallet he had open across his stiff left hand. “How ’bout you?”

  “Doing okay. Worried about my crew.”

  Fixer’s green eyes narrowed. “Nessa all right?”

  “I’m talking about you.”

  “Then why didn’t you say that?”

  Elias blew out a sigh. “Because...shit, man, things have been weird, okay? I didn’t want you to get pissy.”

  Fixer could get worked up over the stupidest things. Elias understood his moods, for the most part. Anticipated most of them.

  Instead of getting his shorts in a bunch, Fix just nodded. “Sorry.”

  Elias patted his knee. “‘Sokay.”

  “Qek got a course plotted?”

  The quiet tragedy in Fixer’s expression as he asked that one, simple question tugged at the knot in Elias’s chest. He knew what love felt like. His parents, Angus and Rhoda, had set a good example, and he’d loved a woman with the fervor of a man drawing his last breath. If Nessa ever stopped playing him, he could love her. Hell, he probably already did. He had never expected to see Fixer look at anyone with more than an expression of passing interest, lust or calculation. He’d noted Fix’s preference for larger partners, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, but had supposed everyone had a type. The fact Fix never disappeared for more than an hour or so never surprised him.