Beyond fate, there is choice
by Ainzfern
2
Sitting at the sunlight drenched table in the main room of the penthouse apartment in Eos Tower, Riki took a blissful sip of steaming coffee before smiling slightly, his brow quirking in amusement as he watched Iason sorting through his morning messages and schedule notes. His Blondie was a picture of abstracted concentration, a mild frown on his normally smooth brow and one arm half raised, a sweet pastry held in his elegant hand, apparently forgotten on route to his mouth, as he ran the fingers of his other hand down the item he was perusing.
Nursing his coffee cup in both hands, Riki leaned back a little in his seat, tilting his head and appraising Iason with enduring affection shining from his dark eyes. "Hey... Iason?"
"Hmm?" The Blondie carefully turned over to another page, his pale eyes rapidly scanning down the contents.
Riki pointed one finger at the pastry in Iason's hand. "You gonna eat that thing or are you waiting for it ripen?"
"Hmm." Iason nodded absently, not so much as pausing in his reading.
Snickering softly, Riki glanced sideways and met Dane's gentle eyes as the young Furniture unobtrusively replaced Iason's cold coffee with a new one. Dane simply shrugged at him, his lips twitching.
Feeling a wide grin rising on his face, Riki tried again. "Did you know your ass was on fire?"
Muffling a strangled chuckle, Dane turned and quickly walked back to the kitchen, his slender shoulders shaking silently.
Iason looked up and blinked. "I'm sorry, Riki, did you say something?" He frowned slightly, his expression growing perplexed. "Whose ass?"
Laughing aloud, Riki set his coffee mug down on the table. "Never mind. You were miles away just now, that's all."
"Ah." His perfect face smoothing out in tolerant understanding, the Elite took a delicate bite from his pastry and closed the file on the table, pushing it aside. "I apologize, Riki," he smiled, picking up his refreshed coffee, "I'm afraid I have a rather challenging agenda ahead of me today."
"I thought it might have been another report from Midas Security that was gripping your focus so hard." Riki raised a dark brow slightly, recalling Iason's concern over a series of recent strange break-ins around the Midas industrial area. So far the perpetrators had not yet been located, but witness reports seemed to indicate that it was more than just random gang activity. For a start, the plants and factories that had been broken into were all owned, or at least part owned, by Elites... Raoul Am's bio-fabrication facility amongst them. Plus there was no sign of actual damage to any of the targeted locations. Somehow the invaders were getting access to the facilities without having to force their way in; a deeply concerning fact in that it hinted that at least one of the members of the team had to have inside information... or connections to someone who did.
The really weird thing about it, Riki mused, was that absolutely nothing had been taken from any of the three locations thus far hit. It was almost as if whoever was behind the acts simply wanted it known that they actually could break in.
"Fortunately not," Iason replied. "No... my attention for this day will be firmly on the quarterly Syndicate department's conference."
"Right," Riki reached across the table and clasped Iason's free hand for a moment. "Not exactly your favorite times of the year."
"Indeed."
"Still, it's all the more reason to take a few minutes out to enjoy your breakfast, don't you think?"
Nodding, Iason relaxed into his chair. "Far be it from me to dispute such sage advice," he replied, a whimsical little smile on his face. "I must confess, I feel that over the next few weeks, opportunities to relax are going to be very few and far between."
Riki felt his expression growing serious again. "So you're really serious about this next reform, are you?"
Growing equally somber, Iason nodded slowly. "Yes I am." He steepled his elegant fingers under his chin for a moment. "I've spent some time in communion with Jupiter over the matter and I still come back to the same conclusion. The color-caste social ranking amongst the Elites is no longer appropriate... or even relevant. It is an outdated convention that is, quite frankly, denying the Syndicate the opportunity to utilize extremely talented Elites in key positions simply because of the color of their hair."
Riki pressed his lips together for a moment, his dark eyes troubled as he considered the ramifications of Iason's plan. "This is pretty huge, though," he murmured at length. "I mean you realize that – if this idea becomes legislation – it's going to have one hell of a snowball effect. The citizens of Midas are going to want the same changes put in place for them, too."
"I am aware of that."
Grimacing slightly, Riki wet his lips. "How do you think the other Blondies will react?"
"I would hope with a measure of maturity," Iason picked up his coffee once more. "Remember, Riki, Blonde Elites will still have an advantage simply through the greater depths of their genetic enhancements... but, I honestly believe that where true talent exists in the other ranks, it should be encouraged. Such a thing could only be a benefit to the Amoian regime."
"My Companion... the ultimate visionary," Riki smiled fondly at him.
With an urbane nod of his pale blond head, Iason accepted the compliment, his beautiful eyes sparkling with mirth.
"So, when are you planning on tabling this one?" Riki leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table.
"Not for some few weeks yet," Iason lifted one broad shoulder briefly. "I want to rewrite the draft legislation first. I'm still not convinced it covers all aspects of the reform adequately."
Riki chucked. "A visionary and a perfectionist. Pretty dangerous combination there." He grinned suddenly, a thought occurring to him. "Y'know, Chey Neeson is going to think you walk on water after this. This kind of thing is right up his alley."
"And exactly who do you think has been assisting me to construct the reform document?" Iason asked slyly.
Riki's laughter filled the sunlit room for a moment. "God," he chortled wryly, "I should've known. That man has his fingers in everything, doesn't he?"
"Actually, speaking of Chey," Iason glanced down at the closed folder next to him on the table. "The schedule for annual trade conference at Partia had been brought forward so I'm rather pleased to tell you that he will be joining us a little sooner than originally anticipated."
Riki felt a genuine surge of pleasure wash through him. "That's good news."
"He did mention in his last communication," Iason looked rather closely at him, a certain secret delight shining from his striking eyes, "that he wants to speak to you about engaging you to serve on a consulting panel."
"Oh?" Riki straightened a little, looking at Iason with deep interest. "Any details?"
"Only that it's a civic works program targeting the lower socio-economic population in New-Vincentia," Iason smiled gently. "He feels your specific insights would be most useful."
"Hey, if it's to do with improving the lot of the common man, Iason, I'm all for it." Riki smirked slyly. "Besides, it'll give me a break from slogging through Ceres market files for a living. After a while, that shit gets a bit repetitive, y'know?"
"I could imagine." Iason frowned slightly then, another thought obviously occurring to him. "Chey also mentioned a most interesting find in a construction site on New-Vincentia as well."
Riki mirrored his frown. "What kind of find, exactly?"
"Items of historical and anthropological value, apparently." Iason stroked the long fingers of one hand down his chin thoughtfully.
"Well that doesn't sound so ominous," Riki tilted his head looking at his Blondie curiously. "Why the concerned face?"
"Only that, due to his existing connections with the Amoi regime, the federation department of antiquities had prevailed upon him to intercede with a certain department head of the Tanagura Syndicate." Iason's expression hardened ever so slightly. "An individual who specializes in archeological sciences and antiquities and who has, in fact, published several renowned papers on the subjects. They are most interested in seconding him to the project as a consultant."
Riki stared at Iason, mild dismay rising in his gut. "Oh no," he muttered, his voice sinking.
Iason nodded grimly. "Indeed. Tahna Lam's professional reputation has, I must confess, rightfully preceded him."
"Just a shame his personal reputation isn't as widely known. " Riki shook his head. "Has Chey met him yet?"
"Not thus far, no."
"Are you gonna warn him?"
"I will." Iason's rich mouth thinned. "However, I do feel that such a discussion ought to take place face to face and privately, rather than via a communiqué."
"Hell yeah." Riki rubbed on hand over his cheek. "Well, when you describe him to Chey, don't forget to use the word 'asshole', okay?"
Iason smiled slightly.
Riki shrugged. "Actually... use it twice, just to make sure the message sinks in."
"You know, in all honesty, Riki," Iason mused softly. "I can't help but feel that it is Tahna who will be in for the shock, rather than Chey. I believe my erstwhile federation associate is more than capable of handling Tahna's prickly disposition."
Feeling his good humor returning in full, Riki grinned evilly. "You might just be right. I've gotta wonder if the universe might actually tilt on its axis the moment those two meet."
Iason huffed a silken little chuckle. "With Chey, I would have to say anything is possible."
"Excuse me, Master Iason?" Dane approached the table, a slight frown on his normally sunny countenance. "A priority message has just come through to your terminal." His dark eyes flicked to Riki for a moment. "It's from Commander Hadren of Midas Security."
Riki looked sharply at Iason, watching as the Blondie's expression suddenly grew grim. "Another break-in?" he asked as Iason rose to his feet.
"I would have to assume so." Iason nodded tersely at Dane. "I shall take it immediately. Please remain here." He strode towards his office alcove on the far side on the main apartment area, a deeply preoccupied look on his flawless face.
"Whoa," Riki murmured as Dane busied himself with clearing away the breakfast things, "If that call is about a break-in, then that'll be the forth one this month."
"I know," Dane paused, looking somberly at him, the serving dishes and plates balanced expertly on one arm, "Master Iason sure looked upset about it."
Riki's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Yeah, he did, didn't he?" he bit his lower lip for a moment. "Y'know, Dane, I can't shake the feeling that there's something Iason's not telling me about this sudden little crime wave Midas has been having. Some detail that he doesn't want me to know about for some reason."
"Maybe he just doesn't want you to worry," Dane suggested.
"Oh, I'm sure," Riki crossed his arms, unimpressed. "The thing is, he knows that I hate it when he does that whole 'I am an island' routine on me."
Dane smiled patiently. "Force of habit, still?" he asked gently. "Perhaps, Riki, just ask him."
Riki nodded, his dark eyes shifting to stare across the apartment at Iason office entrance. "Trust me," he replied seriously. "I'm going to."
Iason had to admit, the Atrium within the upper levels of Jupiter Tower was a marvel of beauty and serenity. Under its soaring buttressed dome of reinforced glass it was elegantly landscaped to capture the essence of nature in all its exquisiteness. The Atrium was filled with sweetly scented flowering plants, graceful evergreen trees and crystal clear endlessly flowing water features. Tiny jeweled birds flitted from place to place, filling the air with the shimmering sound of their songs.
It was a man-made oasis in a desert of technology and tension and cut-throat negotiations. Rarely seen by those who were not of the Elite caste, it provided a place where the leaders of Amoi could retreat for even just a few moments, to soak a little of the calming ambiance into their souls before returning to life beyond the vine-covered walls.
However, right now, for Iason Mink it was doing very little to soothe the foreboding in his mind.
Sitting on one of the elegantly carved marble benches that graced the moss-carpeted central clearing of the Atrium, glass of wine in hand and his oldest and dearest Elite friend, Raoul Am, beside him, Iason frowned deeply as he let his gaze wander over the little groupings of Elites gather here and there around him, all talking in low serious tones.
He had called afternoon recess to the conference only a few moments ago and most of the Syndicate department leaders had convened here for refreshments and idle conversation, to break the strain of the long day a little.
Admittedly, the quarterly meeting had gone as well as could be expected. Each department had presented their current status reports, their budgetary usages thus far and had all tabled their future projects for review and feedback. And, almost as if sensing Iason's preoccupation, Raoul had stepped up his own visibility in this instance, taking a significant hand in directing the agenda and ensuring that all bases were covered.
Iason smiled as he sipped his wine, turning to look at Raoul's fine profile. "I want to thank you, my friend," he murmured in his velvet voice, "for your support today. I believe that, due to your strict adherence to the timetable, we may well be able to conclude the conference ahead of time."
Raoul saluted him casually with his own glass. "Oh, I can juggle Elites with the best of them, Iason," he replied, humor in his rich voice. "Even fractious ones."
"This much is very evident."
"Iason," Raoul hesitated a moment, turning his glass in his long fingers. "Commander Hadren's report," he went on, lowering his voice slightly, "there was another message left at the scene of the break-in, wasn't there?"
Iason looked sharply at him.
Obviously seeing the look, Raoul waved a calming hand at him. "Don't worry; no information has been leaked by our erstwhile Midas security forces this time... But I know you, Iason. And I know the look you get in your eyes when something is disquieting you."
"It is bad enough that the previous messages have become common knowledge amongst the Syndicate," Iason muttered darkly. "The notes were details that I had hoped to keep secret, to further our chances of finding out who is behind all of this."
Raoul's expression grew very bleak. "You still believe that an Elite is behind these incidents?" he asked softly. "That this is some manner of political gambit?"
"I do," Iason replied. He shook his head, sighing softly. "You've seen the other notes, Raoul. The content of this one is just the same. My social reforms are, apparently, giving opportunity for an uprising against the leading class; that the gradual removal of our strict social divisions will lead to the destruction of the Elites."
Raoul frowned again, glancing around the clearing to ensure they were out of earshot. "What exactly was the message this time?"
Iason's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Quite forthright, this one," he replied. "–'The gold upon the pinnacle is faltering. The other jewels of Amoi now lie in great peril. We can reach you. We already have.'–" Iason pressed his lips tightly together as he finished quoting the message, the same sense of tense urgency that entered his stomach when he first learned of the messages contents, returning to him again.
Raoul breath hissed between his teeth. "Well... that is fairly pointed, isn't it?"
"Indeed." Iason drained his glass and set it on the bench beside him. "I've instructed my own personal security forces to join with the Midas office. Mace is in conference with Commander Hadren and his team, even as we speak."
"Excellent idea," Raoul nodded, looking once more around the Atrium. "Mace is thorough."
"He is that." Iason stiffened slightly, his professional demeanor returning instantly as he watched two richly dressed Elites approaching them from across the clearing. Although he heard Raoul's vaguely irritated sigh as the newcomers reached them, he gave no outward indication at all of anything other than a polite but restrained welcome.
"Well, Iason," Tahna Lam, resplendently dressed in luxurious fabrics as always, dipped his pale blond head in a mocking little bow, "I must say, however compelling the agenda for today's meeting has been, it's quite interesting to note that outside of the conference room it really hasn't been much of a topic of conversation." He smiled slyly, his huge violet eyes sparkling wickedly. "In fact, it seems that all our erstwhile colleagues can talk about is the latest break-in at the munitions plant outside of Midas." He turned to the Elite that had arrived with him. "Isn't that right, Blaine?"
Iason shifted his gaze to Blaine Dal, a tall and dignified Platina Elite who had risen in the past few years within one of the lesser departments of the Syndicate quite rapidly. With thick silver hair crowning his head and flowing down his shoulders, and his large grey eyes, Blaine was a striking example of an Elite. He had a certain air of serenity about him too, Iason had always noticed, seeming to gaze out at the world around him with an all encompassing tranquility, going about his duties diligently and intelligently and rising smoothly through the ranks to the very pinnacle available to his caste.
Iason had actually always rather liked him. And, privately, he felt that Blaine Dal was exactly the kind of Elite who could benefit greatly from his as-yet unreleased legislation change.
To Iason's inner approval, Blaine remained unmoved by Tahna's obvious stir, merely raising an almost apologetic brow at Iason and Raoul, bowing his head respectfully. "Not... exactly, Tahna," he disagreed mildly. "But it must be said, gentlemen, there is certainly a theme of sorts in much of the conversation today."
"Fueled in part by Tahna, I have no doubt," Raoul smiled coldly as he and Iason rose to their feet.
Tahna tossed his head disdainfully. "You know, actually, I haven't had to put any effort in myself at all for this one, Raoul," he shot back gleefully. "The pure facts of the matter are enough to keep us riveted."
"Fact, Tahna?" Raoul flicked an imaginary speck of lint off his lapel. "You don't usually bother with facts. Feeling unwell, are you?"
Ignoring Raoul's remark, Tahna turned back to Iason. "Get any more love letters, your Excellency?"
Maintaining a perfect façade of unconcern, Iason smiled graciously. "Not this time, Tahna."
Tahna expression clearly indicated his doubt, but as he opened his mouth to comment once more, Blaine Dal rather smoothly interjected.
"Tell me," the Platina asked, his compelling ice-grey eyes turning to hold Iason's gaze steadily. "Has there been any new leads on who might be behind all of this?"
Iason lifted on broad shoulder briefly as he shook his head. "Nothing new," he admitted. "The main theory is still leaning toward possible escalating gang activity coming out of Ceres."
Tahna snorted gracelessly. "Oh, I doubt that."
Looking sharply at him, Iason felt his eyes narrow. To him, just for this moment, there seemed to be entirely too strong a note of surety in the Blondie's tone. "What exactly has led you to that conclusion, Tahna?" he asked, his voice suddenly deadly soft.
Peripherally, Iason noted Raoul turned to stare at him, puzzlement in his deep green eyes.
Catching the change, Tahna frowned at him then shrugged lightly. "Oh come now, Iason. Be serious. Mongrels from the slums directing plans of that level of subtlety? The population over there doesn't have the brains for it and you know it."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Raoul murmured. "I know personally of at least one mongrel that had enough intelligence to put you back in your place quite recently."
A slight flush tinted Tahna's cheeks. "Most amusing," he said flatly.
"I thought it was."
Iason raised his hands. "Gentlemen, in all honesty this conversation is leading nowhere." He shared a brief but empathic glance with Blaine, who was clearly trying quite manfully to mask his amusement at Tahna's discomfort. "And it is time we reconvened to conduct the conference summary." He nodded urbanely at Blaine, one elegant brow raised slightly. "Would you call them back in please, Blaine?"
"Of course," Blaine bowed again, turning away and approaching the nearest group of Elites, directing them in low tones to the exit of the Atrium.
As Iason fell into step next to Raoul, following Tahna's rather stiff and offended back towards the conference room, Iason kept his eyes fixed on the problematic Blondie in front of them, his formidable mind replaying every remark that Tahna had just made.
"Iason?" Raoul murmured into his ear.
Iason flicked a glance at him. "Hmm?"
Raoul's eyes narrowed. "You think you know something."
"Perhaps," Iason replied softly as they reentered the conference hall and resumed their seats side by side at the head of the main table. "Let's just say that a certain idea is forming, that's all."
Raoul nodded at him, his sharp eyes also straying towards Tahna, seated to one side of them. "Interesting," he noted aloud, picking up the final section agenda and perusing it quickly.
And as Raoul rose to his feet to call the room to order, Iason couldn't help agreeing with his friend, even as he kept his eyes on Tahna's perfect face.
Very interesting indeed.