Beyond fate, there is choice
by Ainzfern
11
Night had long since fallen over Tanagura and, on the sweeping patio that graced the outside of the glittering Partia reception hall, Iason Mink, head of the Tanagura Syndicate and most favored son of Jupiter, sought a brief moment of respite in the cool night air. Behind him, spilling out the open glass doors along with the golden light of the hall's blazing chandeliers, came the muted sounds from the interior of the hall. Voices raised in bright conversation overlaid the sounds of clinking glasses, subtle music and the occasional wave of laughter.
Iason vented a soft sigh, his beautiful pale eyes lifting to stare for a moment at the twin moons of Amoi far above him in the sky, floating all-seeing and distant, far beyond the thrall of the planet's gravity.
The after-party to the trade conference was in full swing and promising already to be at least as successful as the event that had preceded it. The food was excellent, and the beverages free-flowing. Everyone in attendance seemed to be in high spirits; representatives of Amoi, the federation government and the independent traders all recognizing the greater benefits that a more open and dynamic trade environment would offer to those willing to embrace it. Iason had done his duties thus far for the evening as per the official closing ceremonies and reciprocal speech-making and it was now all down now to the purely social wind-up.
Technically, he knew he ought to be in the hall himself, playing the gracious host, consolidating new networks with light banter and amusing verbal sparring. But, he had much on his mind right now and, being honest with himself, he needed these occasional breaks to gather his thoughts and renew his equilibrium.
'Quiet time', as Riki referred to it, Iason recalled, his rich mouth curving into a fond smile.
His mongrel certainly had a concise way with words, at times...
Taking a deep breath of the sweetly-scented night air, Iason consciously relaxed for these few calm moments and, by the time he heard a quiet foot-fall behind him, his mood and his congeniality had been restored to the point where the interruption to his musing was not unwelcome at all.
Turning, he felt a genuine smile rising on his face as he met Chey Neeson's steady gaze. The handsome federation minister stood before him with a politely enquiring expression on his face and a fluted glass of champagne in each hand. "Drink?" he asked softly, quirking an eyebrow at the Elite.
Iason nodded, pleased at the pleasant diversion of this man's company. "Tell me," he said lifting one elegant hand to accept his drink, "am I right in assuming you have abandoned your vulnerable retinue amidst a room full of Elites in your quest to find me?" His tone was lightly teasing and his pale eyes twinkled with mirth.
"But, of course not," Chey smiled and handed him the glass, "I left them in the very capable hands of your two-IC and your handsome young Companion."
"Ah," Iason nodded sagely and took a sip from his wine, nodding in approval at the fine sweet taste. "Allow me to speculate; Riki and Raoul have your staff... what is the phrase you would use?" Iason flashed a tiny grin at his friend, "'-Eating out of their hands-'?"
"You've no idea," Chey shook his head, snorting softly with amusement. "I've never seen so much concentrated charisma in one single place before." He cast a sly look at Iason. "I certainly wouldn't suggest you join them though. I'm afraid the building just wouldn't be able to contain it all."
Iason bowed his head urbanely in acknowledgment of Chey's amusingly complimentary observation.
Chey winked at him. "Although, I was seriously thinking about warning them to pull back on the charm a little bit."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes," Chey laughed aloud, his shrewd blue eyes twinkling with high humor. "Otherwise it's entirely likely that at least two of the ladies in my staff may attempt to drug them at some point and try to smuggle them out though customs."
Iason chuckled softly, the brief visual of the rather matronly ladies in Chey's retinue struggling to declare Raoul Am and Riki as 'carry-on luggage' absurdly tickling him for a moment. "Your humor eludes me in some cases, Chey, I will confess," he murmured, meeting Chey's eyes. "But I also can't deny there are moments when it is a welcome delight."
Chey grew slightly serious then, his smile fading a little. "Iason," he began almost hesitantly, setting his glass down on a nearby table. "May I ask you a rather, well, 'awkward' question?"
Caught by the change in his manner, Iason nodded immediately. "Of course, my friend. You may always speak your mind to me."
"Our negotiation this afternoon..." Chey began softly.
"Yes?"
"My government is very pleased that I got that extra reserve point off you." Chey himself however, Iason noticed, did not look so happy.
"A credit to your skills, Chey," Iason replied.
Chey sighed, lifting his chin and meeting Iason gaze almost grimly. "Was it? Or did I have an unfair advantage because you were understandably distracted by your current difficulty?"
Iason tilted his head, considering the question seriously. He found the irony of the situation strangely amusing in that, had Chey been in the position to ask him such a thing only a few years back, Iason would have felt fully justified in becoming offended. But knowing this man, and now having a much deeper understanding of the various emotional forces that motivated the average non-enhanced human, he found instead that he was oddly warmed, even slightly touched, by Chey's clearly sincere concern.
He smiled calmly and shook his head. "No, Chey," he assured the broad-shouldered statesman firmly. "Extending preferential trade status to Amoi was what got you the extra reserve point." He smiled slyly. "Trust me... if you hadn't been willing to concede that I would not have even considered an increase on the current pricing, no matter how much you haggled."
Chey's grin rose like the sun. "Good!" he clasped Iason's shoulder warmly, his relief very clear. "I'm very pleased. Call it arrogance if you like, but I would have been damned ashamed to have gotten what I wanted any other way."
"Complex sort of man, aren't you?" Iason noted, sipping from his glass once more.
"Isn't everybody, Iason? Really?" Chey shrugged lightly.
"To a degree, I suppose," Iason frowned into his glass for a moment. "Actually," he went on, his voice lowering a little, "speaking of your rather eclectic nature...,"
"Were we speaking of that?"
"We are about to."
"Ah. Then by all means, continue." Chey picked up his glass again, looking interestedly at the Blondie.
"Thank you," Iason gave Chey a rather direct look. "Tahna Lam."
Chey blinked, his brows lifting once more. "Erm... yes?"
"May I ask how you are fairing in your quest to recruit him as a consultant to your government?"
Chey snorted softly, shaking his head. To Iason's sharp eyes, a very clear expression of fondness had appeared there. The Elite looked penetratingly at his friend's face, preparing to take close note of what, and more importantly how, Chey would reply.
"He's quite resistant," Chey was saying, looking up into the night sky with a soft smile on his face. "But then, I match him by being quite obstinate; so I am not prepared to admit defeat just yet."
"I see," Iason murmured, his pale eyes locked upon Chey face.
"Hmm," Chey chuckled, looking back at Iason once more. "For all of his prickly veneer, I have to admit I find him very amusing. Of course," he grinned, almost evilly, "the fact that he just can't quite manage to insult me enough to make me go away absolutely drives him wild."
"I see." Iason covered his burgeoning grin with another sip from his glass.
"But he's coming around, I think," Chey chuckled again. "Yes. I have high hopes, Iason. I have high hopes."
"Well," Iason lowered his glass and gave Chey an artfully innocent little smile. "I can only wish you all the best of luck in securing Tahna's most formidable attributes successfully into your hands." He waved one gracious hand to the door. "Shall we rejoin our colleagues at this juncture?"
Chey's eyes immediately narrowed. "Ohhh, no you don't," he pointed an accusing finger in Iason's direction. "There was a double meaning in that remark."
"Was there?"
"You know there was," Chey stared hard at him for a moment, before venting a sardonic laugh. "Oh, you sly devil." He shook his head. "Okay. When did you figure it out?"
Iason sighed softly, gazing at Chey with mild concern. "The look upon your face as you spoke about him was eloquence in itself, Chey."
"Damn," Chey looked almost wretchedly back at him. "Is it that obvious?"
"At that moment it was, yes."
"I'll have to work on that, I suppose," Chey muttered, draining his glass.
"Chey," Iason moved a little closer to him. "Forgive me if this seems ill-mannered; but are you quite certain you are prepared to become involved with such a..." Iason hesitated, searching for the right word, "such a difficult individual as Tahna Lam? Would it not be wiser to limit your relationship to a purely professional one?"
"Probably, yes," Chey nodded thoughtfully. "But I have to tell you, Iason," Chey's expression become firm, "I think that a great many of the Elite set have rather underestimated our Sir Tahna, in more ways than one. I think there's a soul of gold buried in that haughty package," he grimaced, then shrugged, "...somewhere," he added.
"Very well," Iason nodded at him. "I will trust in your judgment on the issue. But I feel I must warn you, Chey, that Elites are not easy creatures to be in love with." He smiled gently. "You may ask Riki. He would be the first to tell you that Elites, especially Blondies, make very challenging paramours."
Chey looked slightly alarmed. "In love? Iason, I don't think it's gone quite that far."
"But it could?" Iason asked in a gentle voice. "Is that not true?"
For the first time ever since Iason Mink had met him, the Elite noted with a certain wicked internal delight, Chey Neeson seemed totally lost for words. The federation politician gaped at him for a long moment before, finally, he pulled in a deep breath; his usual smile returning as he lifted his hands in an almost helpless gesture. "You know what, Iason?" he replied, "I can't actually say 'no' to that question and still consider myself an honest man."
"I thought not."
"You thought right." Chey shot him a sly grin. "Still, I've been around the block more than once, my elegant friend. Trust in my age and experience if nothing else."
"Indeed I shall." Smiling Iason motioned Chey towards the reception hall once more. "But," he added softly as they fell into step together, "be careful there, Chey."
"Oh, believe me," Chey replied as they stepped into the brightly lit room, "it may not always look like it, but I am always careful."
Katze hummed tunelessly under his breath as he drove through the nighttime streets of Tanagura, heading for Eos. He tapped a quick rhythm out on the steering wheel with the fingers of one hand, while he waited for the crossways he was at to clear, before smoothly easing his Syndicate supplied vehicle into the traffic once more.
He was in a pretty good mood, all things considered. Today had been quite successful, in so far as the final systems upgrade at Raoul's bio-mechanical fabrication lab was now complete and there had been no major hitches to the process. In fact, he'd been pleasantly surprised to have been able to call it a day as early as he had. Plus there was the added bonus that, by committing himself to the final stage of the upgrade today, he had been able to avoid the after-party at the Partia reception hall.
Smirking slightly, Katze signaled and changed lanes, easing his car out and around a slower vehicle. It wasn't that he never attended official functions with Raoul, because he did. As the Companion of a high-ranked Blondie it was part of the deal and, to his credit, Katze could carry it off very well when he had to. But, the facts of the matter were, that such events were not his favorite pastime. He hardly got to spend a moment with Raoul in those cases, anyway, the Elite generally being fully occupied in his role as Iason's co-host.
And, if he had to be totally honest with himself about it, for purely personal entertainment value, getting dressed up in a suit and making small talk while trying to eat dainty things off tiny serviettes, just didn't match up to the sheer joy of being able to get his long and talented fingers into high-tech systems.
Raoul understood; Katze's smirk softened into a fond smile.
As he approached the exit that would lead off in the direction of Jupiter Tower, Katze glanced at the time display on the dash of the car. He grinned and nodded, making an instant decision, as he eased the car into the correct lane to take the off-ramp. Normally he would just drive past and head on home, but he had some time up his sleeve. Raoul wouldn't be home from Partia for another couple of hours yet, and at this time of night, Jupiter Tower would be practically deserted.
The perfect time for him to attend to the couple of work requests he'd received at the start of the week to run some regular standard diagnostics on a couple of terminals on the executive level of the tower, one of which was Iason Mink's.
As he pulled into the basement lot of the tower and fished his security pass out of his jacket pocket, he sent a brief message on his cell through to Raoul's number, letting him know of the slight change in plans and assuring him he'd still beat him home then, still humming softly under his breath, he parked in his usual reserved spot and climbed out of the car.
A quick job. He could kill an hour or so, get ahead on his work requests, and still be home to share a late supper and some serious loving with his Blondie. Not a bad way to finish the week, Katze mused happily.
Not a bad way at all.
The lights were off in the Elite's office, the only illumination in the room coming from the terminal monitor on the desk by the window. In front of that monitor, he sat silent and unmoving, his thoughts internalized, as they had always been. His perfect face was devoid of all emotion, as flawlessly blank and cold as a marble statue, but his large eyes seemed to glow, reflecting back the light of the screen before him, making them glint in an oddly disquieting way.
He was close to the end now. He knew that. He had laid his plans well, and had covered his tracks with precision.
Now, all that remained was for him to make that final definitive move.
Iason was a formidable opponent. He knew that. The Blondie was powerful and protected, shielded by his second, Raoul Am, even by Jupiter he was certain. So, he had discounted the notion of confronting him directly. That would not only be foolish but forgone of conclusion.
No... his plan required far more subtlety.
He had to bring Iason to him. He had to stack the odds in his own favor.
He had been observing Iason Mink for a long time now, searching for a way to achieve his ends. Looking for a vulnerability; a weakness that he might be able to utilize. So far as he had been able to ascertain, Iason Mink himself was virtually unassailable. He was well ingrained as the Elite leader, respected and obeyed. He had personal access to Jupiter's counsel. He was physically strong and emotionally resilient enough to withstand any manner of personal affront.
But he did have one weak point...
His mongrel. His precious, well loved, oh-so-beautiful mongrel.
The exploits the Elite had completed in Midas, carefully arranging the break-ins of key locations, setting up the assault in Eos Tower, ensuring the appropriate notes were found... that was all just a means to an end. A way of getting Iason's attention.
And now that he had that attention, it was time to complete his task.
As closely as he had been watching Iason, the Elite had also been observing Riki. He knew the mongrel's movements very well by now. He knew that, two days from now, Iason's Companion would ride his powerful hover-bike out of the basement lot at Eos Tower and scream at break-neck speeds through the city towards the Midas space port to conduct his regular meeting with his ex-Pet employee.
Unfortunately for the mongrel, the Elite thought with a cold smile appearing on his formerly still face, he would not actually get to make that meeting. By the time anyone became aware that anything was amiss, the Elite would have Riki safely hidden away.
Riki the mongrel would be the ultimate bait.
Iason would not be able to decline. The Elite would send the final message, elegantly enough, directly to Iason's terminal at Jupiter Tower.
Iason would come to him... and then the Elite would kill him.
And finally, finally, there would be an end to it.
He couldn't deny that there was a great deal of relief in that thought.
Some few moments after arriving high up in Jupiter Tower, Katze stood behind Iason's desk arching through a bone cracking stretch as he waited for the diagnostics program he had initiated to run its course. As he had thought, the tower had been virtually empty of staff at this time of night, with just a sleepy guard sitting in his usual post in the lobby nodding Katze through the security doors as the redhead flashed his pass. Of course, he knew that there were other security men moving around through the building, at least – Katze amended wryly – that's what they were supposed to be doing. But, in all probability, they were more than likely gathered in a staff lounge somewhere playing cards and sharing off color jokes.
Flexing his neck to ease the strain of the long day out of the muscles, Katze glanced almost casually at the diagnostics display scrolling down the monitor of Iason's terminal before pausing, leaning closer to take a better look. Frowning, Katze waited to see if what he thought he had observed would occur again.
It did.
Katze blinked, his brow creasing even more deeply.
There it was again.
A tiny hiccup; a little jump in the diagnostics data that indicated something was in the drive of Iason's terminal that simply should not have been there. Hunkering over the keyboard, Katze rapidly tapped in a few instructions to isolate the anomaly. He waited patiently for a few minutes while the scan completed and then, as the results scrolled up the screen, he felt his eyes widening.
It was a hack. Someone had hacked into Iason Mink's private Syndicate terminal and uploaded an up-link program; one that was obviously designed, Katze could see, to transfer further data at some point. He shook his head, hissing softly between his teeth. Whoever had uploaded the thing was either very brazen, or very stupid. For a second his curiosity piqued and he wondered what the next upload would have actually been. He dismissed that thought almost immediately. He had a job to do here. He would run a tracer on it right now; find out where the hell it had come from and then quarantine it, removing it from the hard drive and handing the records over to Mace's men.
He inserted a blank disc into the terminal drive and, a few swift keystrokes later, the tracer program was in place. Soon, Katze would know whether the hack had originated from inside or outside Jupiter Tower; and if it was someone within the tower who had been responsible, he would even, once he'd verified the terminal user ID, know who's terminal it had come from.
Fumbling in the pocket of his pants, he pulled out his cell. He felt the urge to try and contact Raoul, maybe even see if he could pass a discreet message on to Iason. This breach really was something that the Elite leader ought to know about, especially since Katze had the strongest feeling that it was somehow related with the break-ins at Midas and the assault on Blaine Dal.
Before he dialed, he glanced once again at the monitor.
Then he froze, his golden eyes growing wide with alarm.
At the bottom of the tracer window, a symbol was flashing. Katze's heartbeat began to quicken. It was a symbol he had not expected to see there, a symbol that he didn't want to see there, particularly not now; alone as he was on the darkened top levels of the tower. The symbol was an alert indicator, an alarm that would flash if the tracer managed to set off some kind of warning on the originator's terminal. Katze swore, soft but fervent, as the tracer data suddenly displayed the source of the hack.
It was from someone inside the tower. And that someone now knew that he was here.
Moving swiftly, he literally ripped the disc he had inserted into Iason's terminal out and shoved it into his work-satchel. Shouldering his bag, he lifted his cell phone again, rapidly pressing keys with his thumb as he shifted his weight to turn towards the door, intent on leaving Iason's office and the executive levels, as fast as damn well possible.
A soft cry of alarm left his throat when an elegant hand simply reached over his shoulder and neatly whipped the cell phone from his grasp. He whirled around, his breath rasping in his chest, his sudden shock immense. He'd had no idea that anyone had come into the office. He had not heard a sound. But then Elites, he thought vaguely, his guts plummeting, could move so fucking quietly when they wanted to.
He shook his head as he met a pair of cold grey eyes that stared levelly at him from a perfectly composed Elite face.
Of all possible outcomes, Katze had to admit, even as his eyes widened in stunned recognition, he never would have expected this one.
"Blaine..." he whispered hoarsely.
Beyond fate... – chapter 10 << >> Beyond fate... – chapter 12