Tarth City, Starport District
Empire Central Starport, Crossfire Docking Berth
Sofftem 1, 4664 tradestandard
Luc woke early, and lay on his back in the dark a long while. How the hell did I ever end up in this predicament? Jawk was supposed to be a week of fun and then back to business. Back to Wulf.
Oh, Wulf, Wulf. They'd fought before, but never like this. His Chosen's words still held the power to shock, even though Luc had mulled them for days. "I'm not your slave any more, you hear me! We're through, Sempervian. As of tonight. Finished! No more slave games. No more threesomes. You either treat me like your equal, or I'm gone."
Wulf had always been more than his equal. Over the past five years, he'd challenged every aspect of Luc's authority. The only way Luc could remain in control was to bring in others. And now, he'd ended up losing it all.
In Jawk, he'd found a lover who matched him in bed, sated him like no other, laughed and joked with him, worked at his side as if he'd always been his right hand. And though he'd promised Jawk they'd be together, another promise he'd made to Wulf superseded that. One thing at a time.
Damn it! He crooked an arm over his eyes. How will I ever give him up?
Wulf had made his thoughts on the matter clear. "If you invite your Kin fucktoy to this house, I'm leaving." Luc turned onto his side.
Jawk slept like a babe, eyelids twitching. He made little mewling noises, one hand tucked beneath his cheek. He pumped claws into the pillow like a suckling kitten.
Luc reached out to touch him, but stayed his hand. It would be easier if he left before Jawk woke. Careful to make no sound, he rolled out of bed and went into the next room.
Once dressed, he fastened up his suit coat and checked his reflection. Wulf had never feared him, but he'd always shown respect. Until he'd started working with Rheyn's Chosen. How ironic. Rheyn had been so certain the respectful, obedient Alitus would rub off on Wulf. Associating with her Chosen had made Wulf even less predictable and more irritable.
Aware of Jawk asleep in the other room, Luc hesitated at the door. Desire roared through him, took him captive with its heat. He rocked back his head, breath held. So easy to go back, take his pleasure--just one more time ... With a will born of long bouts of self-denial, Luc stepped outside into the hall, shut the door, and made his way through the ship to Security. He raised a hand to knock, but halted upon hearing music.
Straight-laced Security Chief Mynkoh Ceeow was singing along with Tovar Fasra's latest release. "I'm the one who'll hold you. I'm the one who pleads. Don't you know I love you? I'm the one you need."
Luc grinned. Good thing she has a day job. He knocked, and by the time he had the door open, the music had cut off.
Mynkoh had her back to him, adjusting her clothes. She glared at him over her shoulder.
He set his hands behind him. "Is this a bad time?"
She gave a sigh ripe with impatience, and motioned him inside. "What the hell took you so long? I expected you an hour ago." She bustled past him and opened the door to an adjacent room. Banks of monitors screened every part of the ship. A crew of six manned the room. At her motion, they filed out, leaving the two of them alone.
"Well?" Luc seated himself at a workstation and swiveled the chair to face her.
Mynkoh called up an array of monitors, most of them showing Jawk. "We watched him like you instructed any time he left your quarters. Never saw him do anything suspicious. When you took him on that tour of Engineering, he asked too many questions for my liking, but apart from that, he was a perfect gentleman. Never even stole the soap."
He leaned back in the chair. "Did he go anywhere he shouldn't? Sneak into anything?"
"Nothing, boss. Your shadow, the whole trip. Did you see anything?"
"Not a thing." Luc steepled his fingers, patted them against his mouth. "And you searched his backpack as I asked?"
"Yes, sir. He had a lot of crap in there. Study chips, plenty of music chips, a broken stylus, some leftover granola. Homemade, from the looks of it." She shuddered. "Human gunk. Our crew went over everything three times. I figured if you wanted me to look, he had spygear hidden somewhere. Couldn't find a single thing."
"So, he was just a college kid on holiday?"
"Far as we could tell."
He nodded. "Excellent. When he gets up, give him anything he wants. See he gets home without attracting attention."
"Well..." She stuck out one claw. "There might be a little problem with that."
Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like this? Luc folded his arms and leaned back. "Why?"
"We brought them on board to keep anyone from seeing them, but the Tarthian Police arrived about an hour ago looking for him."
Luc rose. "And this is because...?" He took one step toward the diminutive Kin.
Mynkoh took one step back. "They say he's an unlicensed prostitute."
He blinked. "What!"
"Oh, and you have a call from some guy named Trink Vandermeer who says he had to close up Batchelors because of you." She hooked her claws into the air. "You know, the cops I can handle, and this Trink character, he can be dealt with. But what annoys me is him." She pointed toward a monitor.
A tall, slender man with a cane sat on a bench on the other side of the Lucsondis gate.
"He's been there for two days. Gets here at dawn, goes home at midnight. Comes back the next day. Just sits there. Lunchtime, he eats a sandwich. Walks away for a minute and comes right back."
"Some kind of nut. Get rid of him."
She snorted. "Sorry, but nobody on my crew is laying a hand on that one, including me." She laid back one ear. "He's probably armed."
"Probably?" He squinted at her, sure he'd misheard. "You mean you don't know? Mynkoh, I pay you to protect my assets as well as me. Who the hell cares whether he's armed! Get rid of him. He's one man. How much damage can he do?"
"There isn't enough money in the empire for me to get between you and a Praetorian. Former or otherwise."
Luc went over to the monitor and studied the man. With so many Kin filling the ranks now it was easy to forget there were human Praetorian, too. One-man armies, every single one of them."Oh, hell. Is that..."
"Talhart Brighton." Mynkoh's laugh had a purring quality. "Daddy's come to drag his errant little boy home. The guards at the gate have a bet about whether he plans to shoot your ass while he's at it."
"Great. You have bolstered my confidence. Any other good news?"
"Two messages. You know--" She wrapped a hand around the hilt of the hook knife at her belt. "--I'm not your secretary."
"Mynkoh!" He pressed his palms together. "Get on with it."
"A woman named Feeyona Joie called and said Wulf was missing, and..."
"What!" He advanced toward her. "You waited to drop that on me until now?"
Mynkoh held up her hands, backing away. "Boss, I..."
"Missing since when? Where was he seen last? What's being done to find him?"
"He's safe." She sidestepped around him. "She called back and said she'd gotten word from his cousin there'd been a family emergency and he'd be out of town for a few days."
Luc's stomach felt as if a giant fist had sucker-punched him. The Chosen kept their families small because the Sempervians protected their offspring for generations. Two Chosen could become a thousand. So a "cousin's" call about a "family emergency" sounded normal to outsiders, but meant a dire emergency among the Chosen and almost always involved Pietas.
"I don't have time for Brighton right now." Pietas preferred the palace. "Send an unmarked hover to the back entrance. No undue attention."
"Sure thing, boss." She walked beside him as Luc headed for the rear entry. "You had one other message. A..."
"Later, Mynkoh. I must go."
"Okay. It's junk anyway. A bunch of letters."
Luc slowed his steps, halted. He pivoted toward her. "Letters? Show me."
She pulled a note reader out of her pocket. "Let me find it. It came in on your private mobile number, so I figured it was for you, but it makes no sense. Oh, here it is." She handed him the electronic notepad.
It read, "CC LE P IAM UU" and nothing else.
Chosen Council. Le Persequor. Iam. Uurah. In the Sempervians' language, "iam" meant an emphatic "now." His skin prickled as if death's shadow had stroked him. Wulf.
"Forget the car, Mynkoh. Fire up my shuttle. Port side." He waved a hand toward the left as he ran. "And hurry!"
* * * *
Tarthian Empire space, Tarth orbit
Le Persequor - lurk mode (invisible)
Sickbay
Sofftem 1
Wulf surfaced from sleep to the sound of low voices surrounding him. He resisted the gentle touches on his arm and snuggled closer to Alitus.
"Help me with him."
The familiar voice behind him brought Wulf fully awake, and the truth blasting back into his life. No. Alitus...
"Careful, Master Wulf." McDoth assisted him as he sat up. "Here, sir. Let me help you." The android guided Wulf as he stood beside the bed. Uurah was nearby, but only McDoth touched him. "Come with me, sir." He wrapped an arm around Wulf's waist. "Can you walk?"
He stumbled and was held up between the two androids. He struggled to go back to Alitus. "I can't leave him! I don't want him to be alone."
"It's all right." McDoth held a hand out in front of Wulf. "He won't be alone." The android smiled at Wulf. "Go with Uurah. I'll stay with Master Alitus."
"McDoth, I can't! I..."
"You have to go, sir." McDoth put a hand on either of Wulf's arms. His brows drew down, every vestige of his usual humor gone. "The Chosen Council has summoned you."
"Council? But ... No. I--I can't do this now."
"I'm sorry, Master Wulf. You don't have a choice. It's time for your trial."
"McDoth, I don't care what time it is. I've lived in hell for the last--I don't even know how many days." He dragged fingers through his greasy hair. "I haven't shaved. Haven't eaten. I need a bath." He closed his eyes and stumbled.
McDoth grabbed him, kept him upright. "You can do this, Master Wulf. If for no other reason, to honor him." He nodded toward the body of Alitus.
Wulf pulled himself upright, head erect, back straight.
Always the valet, McDoth brushed his hands over Wulf's shirt, straightened his collar. "I'll fetch your coat."
For the past several days, Wulf had lived in the tux he'd worn to the Conqueror's party. When McDoth held the coat for him, he slipped it on. "They're going to kill me, aren't they? They'd let me get cleaned up if they were going to let me live."
"One should always look one's best." The fact that McDoth made no attempt to convince him otherwise showed the severity of the situation. The android put an arm around his waist, walked him to the door. "And if I may offer a word of advice?"
Wulf nodded.
"Maintain your dignity."
"Does Luc know about any of this? About..." He gestured between himself and Alitus.
"No one knew." McDoth lifted one brow. "Which may work in your favor. The Council is vigilant about perception."
"But ... is Luc here?"
"I've been trying to reach him, Master Wulf. To no avail."
He made his choice. Wulf sighed. Well, I can't blame him. So did I. He hesitated, then leaned in and wrapped his arms around McDoth. "Thank you for taking care of me all these years."
A few pats on the back turned into a firm squeeze with both arms. "It has been my pleasure."
Before he could lose what little nerve he possessed, Wulf stepped back and walked away at Uurah's side.
* * * *
Tarthian orbit, Crossfire, Luc's private vessel
Jawk stuffed the pic-chips he'd bought on Earth into his backpack along with the grooming kit he'd been given. The clothing and shoes he left behind. It wasn't like Luc couldn't afford it, and the man had made it plain everything was his to take, but Jawk couldn't face himself already, and he hadn't taken a thing.
No surprise waking to find Luc gone. He'd have been more shocked to find him there. A knock at the door perked his ears up.
He opened the door. Great. Luc's favorite goon. He stepped back. "Mynkoh Ceeow, isn't it? Don't worry. I was just leaving. You can search my bag if you want to, but I didn't take anything." He walked back to the desk, picked up the backpack and hoisted it over his shoulder as he turned to go. "So, do you..." He froze.
There, in the door, stood his father, behind him, two Tarthian copbots in uniform.
"Holy shit." The bag slid to the floor.
His father looked like he was about to lecture him for his language, but folded his hands over his cane and gave him a firm glare instead.
Mynkoh rested a hand over her hook knife's hilt. "I vouched for you as a non-flight risk," she told Jawk. "Otherwise these guys--" She indicated the copbots. "--would be taking you in right now." She scrutinized his father. "Although considering your father's past, that might have been a mistake."
Talhart spared her a glance, returned his gaze to Jawk.
She added, "Don't make me regret sticking my ears up for you, Brighton." She pointed at Jawk. "You. Not--" She stuck a claw toward his father. "--you."
"No, ma'am. I won't." Jawk scratched a claw across his lip. "Uh ... What'd I do? Supposedly."
She started to speak, but Talhart Brighton cut her off. "Let's go. We can talk about that later."
Jawk's claws tingled. "Dad, as much as I appreciate you looking out for me, I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself."
His father cast a glance around the room, walked inside and with his cane, flipped back the covers on the bed. Evidence of the sex he and Luc had shared the night before lay in plain sight. "Well, you're right, Son." Talhart tapped the cane on the floor twice. "Looks that way to me, too."
Jawk grabbed up his bag and brushed past the copbots and Mynkoh on his way out. He did not slow down, giving his father no chance to catch up.
"Jawk!" The irregular thump of his father's cane mixed with the man's footfalls. His labored breathing sounded loud in the enclosed pathway of the ship. "Jawk." He stopped, panting. "Son, wait. Jawk! I'm sorry."
Jawk halted, eyes shut, anger and humiliation crashing over him in equal waves. He pivoted back toward his father. Talhart held up a hand for him to wait while he tried to catch his breath.
Mynkoh came round the corner and stopped as if surprised to see them. She gestured over her shoulder. "I got rid of those cops, and I'm heading into the city. As it happens, I'm going near your side of town. I suppose it wouldn't be too much of an imposition to give you guys a lift."
Jawk's father stared down at her, and she up at him, neither speaking. She could not be even two-thirds his father's size, yet she was not the least intimidated. Perhaps one day, Kin warriors would rule the empire.
He knew his father's pride. "Dad, I'm too tired to walk that far."
Mynkoh cast Jawk the tiniest glimmer of a smile before snapping a safety strap over her knife's hilt. "Suit yourselves, but I'm leaving now." She sauntered off toward the exit.
Jawk waited.
Talhart waved a hand at him to follow and brought up the rear.