Doppelganger
by Shayne
Etranger 2
1
Somewhere, a door-com was shrieking. Easing his eyes open – and doing his best not to move – Guy stared at the ceiling, trying to remember where he was and if he'd gotten the serial number for the land-hauler that had run him over. Something sure had, 'cause right now it felt as though his skull would crack open if he even twitched.
The com ceased to assault his throbbing head and he let his eyes close once more in blessed peace. Then someone started hammering at the door... with a lead pipe.
Groaning, he pushed himself into a sitting position then waited for his stomach to stop churning. What the hell had he been drinking last night? And why had he done it in the first place? A single glass of wine was all he ever had; it had been that way for years. Then he remembered the news-vid at the Room. Golden hair... tall, strong, Blondie body... that beyond beautiful face... He shut down that line of thought real quick.
You're gettin' soft, Guy. Remember when stout was your regular poison?
He scowled mentally at his snide inner voice.
Shaddap, you invisible pain-in-the-ass. I'm dying, here. A little sympathy would be nice.
Glancing around, he recognized Luke's great room.
Oh. That's right. He was in Midas until Tenth-day... tomorrow. The pounding at the door paused for an instant.
"Hey LUKE! I know you're in there! Get yer mangy ass outta bed before I kick this piece-of-shit door down!"
Guy shot to his feet, his entire body protesting the sudden movement. Great god almighty. That sounded like...
"LUKE! I am not kidding, here! Open the goddamn door!"
"What the hell's goin' on out here?"
Sid stumbled into the room, Norris right behind, both of them only marginally clothed.
"Don't know," Guy croaked. "But we're about to find out."
Staggering to the door, he turned the security off and opened the hatch. On the other side of the port, Riki lowered his fist and stuck it in one pants pocket. A smile widened the mobile mouth as he took in the silent trio before him... and the general air of 'morning after' hovering over them.
"Well hell, guys... thought you were supposed to throw the welcome-home party after I got here."
Removing his fingers from clammy temples, Raoul frowned at the vacant-eyed youth below him. Even with the drugs floating through his system, the vaults of the mongrel's memories were locked up tighter than the purest breed of Academy virgin. The other one had been the same.
"Well?"
Turning, he looked over to where Iason leaned against the wall.
"You were right. Someone put a 'forget' in his head. It wiped everything from right before he met that person to the moment he cut Midas' power."
The platinum Elite's head tilted to one side.
"What is a 'forget'?"
Raoul looked back down at the young, dark-haired man lying on the padded table.
"It's a suggestion that erases a series of memories within a specified period of time. If you know that someone is going to do something in advance, you can implant the command in the subconscious, then as soon as that final action is made..."
"Yes?"
"The memories are gone from normal recall. That's not to say they're totally gone. The human brain is much like a computer. You can call erased data up if you know how. However... this was not a normal 'forget' suggestion. Whoever did it sealed several portions of this boy's mind. If I attempt to break those seals, he'll lose what memory he has left. And if that happens, Iason, you'll get nothing from him, ever. Right now, there is a possibility the memories will return of their own accord."
Iason's face seemed hewn directly from solid rock. Only the quick pulse in his throat indicated any emotion at all.
"So I'm to just sit here and wait? The summit is in less than a month, Raoul. I want this dealt with... yesterday."
"There's nothing else I can do as far as these two go, Iason. Not right now, at any rate. But... there is a remembrance they share, something from before they met the person who implanted the 'forget'. They were approached by a mediator. Both of them thought him Elite."
The pale eyes flared to life.
"And was he?"
"Either that, or he gave a convincing performance. A Red, I believe."
Pushing away from the wall, Iason walked towards the port, Raoul following. The golden Blondie nodded to attendant waiting outside the room and the man disappeared through the doorway.
"This is better than the nothing I had previously," Iason said. "At least now I've an idea what type of motive I'm looking at."
"Personal, do you think?" Raoul inquired.
"Likely."
They stepped into the lift and Raoul palmed the ID imprint.
"Ground floor."
They were silent the rest of the way down and remained that way until they'd left the labs and were seated within the muted luxury of Iason's car.
"It's almost as if you never left."
"Hmn?"
Raoul came out of his internal musings to look at his friend.
"You walked into the labs and it was as though you'd never been gone. Everyone knew what you needed—and provided you with it." There was an odd expression in Iason's eyes. "If it wasn't ridiculous, I'd say that you were missed."
Raoul laughed a little, shaking his head.
"No, Iason. I'm just better than Genova. How in the gods' names did that happen? I specifically left the bio department under Phearon's control. There was a reason for that, you know."
Iason shrugged.
"I had nothing to do with it. The board replaced Phearon. And I had no reason to argue. It seemed an internal matter."
"You should have commed me. Genova's an incompetent ass."
The choked laugh that sprang from Iason's throat seemed to surprise the platinum Blondie as much as it did Raoul. For an instant, it was like having the Iason of three-years-ago back with him. But it was gone as soon as it had come, and the other man's countenance smoothed into bland ennui.
"There's a dinner tonight in Parthea, Raoul. A fete toasting Amoi's new trade alliance with Akkaad. I'd like you to come with me. It should be seen that you are back, and that we are still in accord. I do hope you realize that you will be assiduously courted by my detractors. They will think you unhappy for spending the last three years on Gingetkyu."
"Who says I'm not?" Raoul replied, his face as expressionless as Iason's.
Blondie-blue eyes probed each other, neither giving way.
"I'll go tonight," the golden Elite finally said, "but I'm leaving for Berangora tomorrow. I'll be there a week. When I return... I'll try to find some way into those boys' heads. They're very young, Iason. Barely more than children."
Iason's mouth thinned.
"Many hackers are."
Glancing out the window, Raoul noted that they'd crossed into Eos.
"Drop me at your tailor," he said. "I should probably make the effort to look presentable tonight, since you seem to want to make an impression."
He turned to find the other Blondie eyeing his slacks and shirt with raised brows.
"It will take some doing, but I believe Ramon is up to the task." Iason's tone was dust dry. "I don't suppose you're going to Berangora to inspect Maruto and his labs for me?"
Raoul stared silently at the man opposite him for a long moment... then burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking with the force of his mirth.
"Believe it or not, Iason," he said somewhat breathlessly, as the white-blonde Elite signaled the driver to stop, "I actually missed you. Life has been excruciatingly boring without your pithy remarks."
Exquisitely arched eyebrows quirked.
"You certainly seem to be in a hurry to leave again."
Raoul's face sobered and he met Iason's gaze squarely.
"Tell me that if Riki contacted you, told you he was a galaxy away and wanted you to come, you wouldn't go."
It was one of the most unjust things he could possibly have said, but he wanted to make a point. Across from him, the other Blondie's face had gone sheet-white, the color draining from his lips as Raoul watched.
"I don't discuss Riki. Ever." The firm voice was hardly even a whisper of sound.
"Understood." The driver opened the door, but the golden Elite stayed motionless for a moment, his eyes still on Iason. "And I also want it understood that I won't discuss Berangora... or Guy."
Exiting the air car, he braced a hand on the port's frame and leaned back in.
"And Iason... you might want to think about recalling Vere. Sooner or later someone's going to start asking why I'm back—and he's not."
"Thought I told you to drop by more than once every few years."
Luke yawned widely and shifted the scantily-clad boy on his lap before taking a hit off his cigarette. Guy was willing to bet it wasn't just tobacco or shoja in that thick roll.
"Haven't had the time," Riki drawled lazily from the depths of his leather easy chair. "I've been buildin' up a clientele. That ain't easy if you're not affiliated with one of the Big Four freight companies."
Norris shook his head, staring at the former leader of Bison in wonder.
"A pilot. Damn that's cool. Where'd you learn?"
"When you work for as many haulers as I have, you pick shit up real quick," Riki said. "The more stations you can work, the better the price you command. But I mostly learned from this old guy when I was stuck on Traez Zfarid for a deuce. Used to work for Grantham, but they 'retired' him when he got too vocal about the company policy of using teenage kids for deep-space repair. Best pilot I ever met.
As to how I started flying freighters... I was in with a Vonneger short-haul crew for a while. We took a few hits from an Alethian trike. Pilot's dead... someone's gotta do somethin'. I knew how to fly the damn thing, so that got me elected."
"Got your own ship. Must be doin' somethin' right," Sid said in his taciturn manner.
"I guess." The black mongrel stared off into the distance, eyes growing dreamy. "Tell you what I really want, though—a TR-560. Few years older than the 340 but damn... handles like a dream. Got a bud back on Midgari who was Star Academy. He had one and man, was she a beaut."
Watching his old friend, Guy felt the corners of his mouth turn up. Damned if this wasn't exactly what Riki had been made for. That starry-eyed look and the goofy smile told him everything he needed to know. It was obvious that Riki loved being out there with nothing between him and space but a metal skin.
"You're nuts, my friend," their wavy-haired host said.
Luke's latest bedroom plaything wriggled suggestively, trying to attract his attention, but the mongrel merely slapped the boy's tight butt and sent him off to the shower, full lower lip protruding in an outrageous pout.
Five sets of eyes followed the slim figure and blatantly swaying hips.
"Don't know why you put up with that little bitch, Luke," Sid said in a low rumble. "Kid needs a regular spanking."
Luke smiled, smoke curling from his mouth.
"He's a damn fine piece of ass, dude. But I'm about ready to trade him in for a newer model, so don't get your panties in a wad."
"Slut," Riki muttered under his breath, and the other mongrel's smile became a grin.
"Sure am, babe. Takes one to know one, though."
"Bite me, Luke."
"Just say the word, lover. I've always saved a piece just for you," Luke purred, then stood and stretched with obvious enjoyment as Riki curled his lip in disgust.
"Well, I'd love to sit here and chat with y'all, but I got things to do. I don't get long weekends like some people."
He looked meaningfully at the rest of the gang.
"Shove it, Luke. You're just gonna go over to Boss McKade's, smoke a joint with him, and complain about how you're overworked and underappreciated. Real tough day. I've got a Maverik '68 at the shop that some punk tried to run up a wall." Sid's look indicated that this was blasphemy of the highest degree. "He wants it fixed for the Eighth-day street races and I really gotta get movin' on it. Thing's gonna take some work."
Luke and Sid drifted off down the hall, bantering about whose day was going to be shittier, and Norris smiled at Riki and Guy.
"Guess I'd better go make sure Luke doesn't push too many of Sid's buttons. Last time that happened, things got bloody real quick. It's sure great to see you, Riki. You gonna be around for a while?"
"Probably. Tell Luke I'll come by about 21:00 and bring my crew. They're fun to hang with."
"Cool, cher. Sounds like a good time." Down the hall, the noise level began to rise, and Norris sighed. "That's my cue. See y'all later."
The soft pad of Norris' footsteps faded into the condo's plush carpeting. Guy glanced over at Riki and found black eyes looking steadily back.
"Wanna take a walk?" the other mongrel asked.
He came to his feet as Riki unfolded himself from his chair.
"Yeah. I'd like that."
2
It had taken some doing, but he'd finally unscrambled his condo's personal security. Neither his own sensors, nor those of the apartment building had registered the presence of the man who'd been waiting for him last night, though.
Pushing his chair back from the desk, Katze shoved impatiently at his bangs and reached for his cigarettes, staring at the blurred image on his terminal screen. He might have believed he'd imagined it all if it wasn't for that single wavy blotch marring the building's security vid.
Taking a drag from his cig, he closed his eyes, thoughts once more centered on his inconclusive inner debate. He'd never considered himself indecisive, but this was an unprecedented situation. And he didn't think he wanted to take the matter to Iason just yet. The Blondie already had five-hundred problems to deal with, as it was; until he knew more about 'Apollo' and his motivations, he'd keep his mouth shut.
Besides, Katze wasn't at all sure how to tell Iason Mink that his doppelganger was out and about, walking the city streets, clothed in skin-tight black leather.
Then there was the small matter of Riki, which had been eclipsed by the greater issue of the stranger. Earlier today, he'd dispatched a transport to pick up the cigs at Riki's old drop point. As promised, they were intact down to the last package. For some inexplicable reason, it had pissed Katze off.
Next time I see that idiot, I'm gonna wring his neck. Problem solved.
He contemplated the satisfaction the solution would give him, a smile playing about the edges of his mouth. Nah. He still liked the little twit. Although, he couldn't really call Riki 'little' anymore. Amongst the other changes in the black mongrel was some additional height. He'd never be tall, but you couldn't say he was short, either.
Apollo, now... that man gave new meaning to the word 'tall'. Katze himself was only two inches shorter than Iason – which meant the strange Blondie had the advantage of both of them that way.
The desk-com buzzed at him, and he leaned over to press the key-pad.
"Yes?"
"Sir, your afternoon appointment is here. Mr. Trask."
Ah, yes. The Geian industrialist. If Katze recalled correctly, the man had made most of his money in the pleasure-slave trade before turning to more legitimate ventures. He was a collector of the strange and unusual, and in this instance that included pets. Oddly enough, Tanagura's black market was the best place to acquire a hybrid pet. Those bred by reputable labs were often 'too human' for the jaded rich.
"Tell him I'll be there in a minute, Haskell."
Katze leaned back in his chair and lit another cig. In this business, it was good to make your clients wait. Never give them the idea that they might have the advantage of you in any way.
He inhaled with slow enjoyment, the spicy shoja essence a welcome change from harsher tobacco smoke. Once again, his thoughts turned to the tall, white-blonde problem that had presented itself last night. He couldn't leave it alone.
Who was Apollo? What was he? Where had he come from? Numerous possibilities – ranging from the patently ridiculous to the wildly improbable – teased the red-head's fertile imagination. If Katze had a preeminent fault – and he'd plead guilty to several – it would have to be his insatiable curiosity. All his life, it had gotten him into trouble. He had a feeling it was about to do so again.
But there was nothing on Amoi, outside complete planetary chaos, that would keep him away from Cervantes this evening.
They ended up in downtown Ceres, walking through crowded, filthy streets; realizing that a number of their old haunts were gone.
"This place looks worse every time I see it," Riki said.
Guy slanted a look at him.
"Actually, things are getting better. It'll take a long time, but at least your Blondie listens. Jupiter never did."
The black mongrel's head turned slowly, and he removed his shades, bright gaze examining his friend. Riki was nearly as tall as he, Guy realized with a jolt of surprise. The other man didn't have to crane his neck to meet his eyes, anymore.
"Iason?" Riki's voice rose in patent disbelief. "What do you mean?"
Guy looked away, uncomfortable with the brilliant intensity of those eyes.
"Ceres has a representative in the Council, now. Been that way for almost two years. It takes a while to get petitions heard, but about five months ago, they ratified a bill giving mongrels workers' rights. You can apply for a permit that allows you to work in Midas. If you've got a worker's ID, that means you can go anywhere you want within the districts and no one can stop you. It also means that if someone attacks you, the police have to do something about it."
"They renovated several infirmaries, too – got some of the newer med-tech," Guy continued. "And Central finally has a regen facility. Not a strong one, but it does the job. Public shelters are a lot better now... and safer. Hell, most of 'em have private showers."
Riki grabbed Guy's arm, bringing them both to a stop. People streamed around them on either side, for the most part ignoring them.
"How do you know?" Midnight black searched misty grey. "You're a Berangoran citizen, now."
The mahogany-haired swordsman shrugged.
"Some of it's from the news, some from the guys. Norris and Sid still live here. And I sub at a rec when I'm in town. Just basic katas and self-defense." He smiled. "There's even a girl in the class."
Riki eyed his friend doubtfully.
"You teach a class. You."
"And you fly a freighter." Guy shook his head in disbelief. "Damn, Riki, I think we finally grew up."
The black mongrel's lip curled.
"Speak for yourself, ya goof. Day I grow up's the day they flame me."
"Uh..."
Riki met Guy's guilty eyes and realized what he'd just said. He tried to keep his face under control. Really. A few minutes later he was leaning weakly against a grey-brick building, tears streaming down his cheeks, he was laughing so hard. Guy stood over him, arms crossed, scowling, and every time Riki tried to stop, the look on the other man's face got him going all over again.
"All right, you win." His oldest friend sounded like he was about ready to find the nearest trash compactor and dump him in. "You're as juvenile as ever. And now, if you're done with your little exhibition, I'd like to leave before we attract unwelcome attention."
Riki's laughter trailed off and his mouth rounded into an astonished 'O'.
"I swear, Guy, you just channeled Raoul. That was his voice. And the expression. Well, may I just say... who died and made you a Blondie?"
Thunderclouds began to gather above the coffee-brown head, dark brows plunged ominously, and Riki stifled another snort of mirth.
"No more, please. My stomach's starting to hurt."
Guy looked impassively down at the unrepentantly grinning Riki. It was somehow comforting to know that with all the changes they'd gone through, some things remained the same. And Riki's smart-mouth was one of them.
Sighing, he shoved his hands into his duster's pockets, jerking his chin at the other mongrel.
"C'mon. It's almost 16:00 and I'm starving. There's a pub near Luke's place that serves decent food. And they've got a pool table. You up for a few rounds?"
Riki shoved away from the wall, the impish smile lingering.
"Always, man. Always."
Frowning at his terminal screen, Iason wondered what had gotten into one red-headed mongrel today. Katze had commed him, spoken in staccato bursts about random, unrelated topics, then abruptly ended their connection with little more than a 'see you'.
The whole point of the conversation completely escaped him. The dealer had seemed jumpy, too, a word he rarely had reason to associate with the other man. Well – he shrugged mentally – he'd find out eventually. Katze couldn't keep a secret from Iason to save his life.
He was just about to call up the Council's latest bills and petitions – all five million of them – when his monitor went blank and the office lights flickered out. Sitting silently in his chair, he turned his eyes to the window, watching the other buildings around his go dark, one by one. The early-evening dusk made the cessation of illumination obvious.
A muted hum of agitated voices began to penetrate the thick walls of his office, and he hoped this incident didn't occasion a mass-exodus. Such things grew messy very quickly, and he'd probably be the one called on to return order.
In the end, the outage didn't last long – only a few minutes – but by the time the power came back on, he could hear several people in his outer office, arguing with Nano. It didn't worry him. Between a were and his assistant, Iason would put his credits on the young, lavender-haired man every time.
The com chirped.
"Yes?"
"Are you alright, Sir?"
"Certainly, Nano. And I am not receiving visitors, presently."
"Of course, Sir."
A ripple of evil amusement ruffled the calm of his mind. Nano would have the office cleared in under five minutes. Keying in his port's privacy code, he rose and walked to the window. From the looks of things, the other buildings had regained power, and it occurred to the platinum Elite that Katze was right: Vortigern and his group were very good at their jobs.
Gazing out over his city, keeping his tone low and even, Iason Mink proceeded to use every oath he knew, including several he'd learned from Riki. Ceres profanity was blunt, vulgar... and much more satisfying Tanagura's.
Goddamn those bastards. Now they're in Eos.
3
Flicking his lighter open, Riki watched Guy line up his shot. Grey eyes narrowed, a sharp crack sounded, and a blue ball disappeared into one pocket. Straightening, the braided mongrel prowled to the other side of the felt-covered table... and repeated the process.
Riki touched the flame to the end of his cig and pulled in a breath of shoja smoke. He hadn't lied to Katze about leaving the dealer's crates alone – he stocked up for himself every other Medean run.
Guy was almost to the eight-ball, and that surprised Riki a little; the other man had been a decent player once upon a time... not good enough to run a table, though. But then, much about his friend had changed. The only real similarity between the Guy of today and the man of six years ago was the quiet intensity burning deep within that silvery gaze.
Oh, he'd learned to bank it, but it flared up at the oddest times. Like when Riki'd mentioned Raoul, earlier. The black mongrel was just dying to push that button again.
Leave it alone, Riki.
/Awww, c'mon. Just a tiny prod./
No Riki.
/But I wanna/, he whined at the internal voice that sounded disconcertingly like Iason.
He most likely has several sharp objects concealed somewhere about his person, Riki.
/Hnh./
His inner Blondie was probably right. And Guy was testing for third dan next week, to say nothing of having survived the Arena. No way was Riki going anywhere near that shit. As good as he was at 'quick and dirty', Guy was something else altogether. His uncanny speed and felis-like grace disturbed the Hope's pilot more than a little.
Thwack.
There went the black eight. Guy straightened and glanced at Riki.
"You break this time," he said as he racked the balls.
"Sure?"
Riki rose at the other man's curt nod, grinding his cig out in the table's tray and stripping the black leather jacket from his shoulders. The sound of clicking billiards suddenly ceased.
Turning, the dark mongrel looked a question at the other man, but Guy's gaze was fixed on his bare torso. Oooops. Forgot the tank again, Riki thought wickedly. He knew exactly what his friend was seeing: long, delicate links winding up from thin silver cuffs. The chains crested his shoulders, crossing at the small of his back before slinking below his belt-line.
Grasping his cue in one half-gloved hand, the pilot hooked a thumb in his waistband and waited for Guy to finish his perusal. When the other mongrel's eyes finally rose to his, there was no reaction there for Riki to read, but he could almost hear his friend's mind clicking furiously away behind silver opacity.
"That's one hell of a statement, Riki," the brown mongrel said. "At least on Amoi."
"Oh, it's a statement of one kind or another all over the damn universe," Riki replied cheerfully, walking to the billiard table and bending his lean form over it. "Just depends on what you're tryin' to say."
"And that would be?"
"You don't really think I'm gonna tell, do you?" He grinned impishly, peering at Guy over the tops of his mirrors. "It's so much more fun to let you drive yourself nuts guessing."
Taking aim at the triangle of balls in front of him, Riki sent the white straight into their midst.
Leaning against the table Riki had recently vacated, Guy's eyes followed the sinuous lines inscribed along the other mongrel's back. It was beautiful work. He had reason to know, having recently acquired a tat, himself. The small golden dragon wrapped around his right wrist was nowhere near as eye-catching as the black mongrel's chains, though.
Chains... Guy laughed internally. If Iason Mink could see his 'Pet' now, poor bastard would probably come, just from the visual.
"Shit!"
Riki missed a shot, the ball just rimming the pocket, and Guy pushed up from his slouched position.
"You're too impatient, Rik," he drawled. "Always have been."
Riki paused in the middle of lighting a cigarette.
"Aren't you just Mr. Nerves-of-steel? Raoul did a real number on you. Which reminds me... heard he's back in town. Can't say it speaks for his judgment. I'd take Canaan over Tanagura any day."
Wicked black eyes watched as the slender back and broad shoulders tensed. Then Guy unbent from his position over the table and slowly turned to look at Riki. The angry words the pilot expected never materialized.
"You've... been there?"
Caught off-guard at the question and the intensity of his friend's expression, Riki stumbled over his answer.
"Uh – yeah. Couple a times. Lebanon's west coast is fucking perfect. They don't even have winter there – just sun, sand and surf. And Canaan's the capitol, so that's where your Blondie's been for the last three years."
Grey eyes dropped.
"I... know." Turning back to the table, Guy examined the lay of the colorful balls. "I've read about it. Seen a few vids."
Riki smiled wryly around his cigarette.
Aren't the two of us a pair? Tip-toein' around what we want like a couple of damn adolescents.
"I ever tell you how I met Iason?"
Guy looked up, surprised by the non-sequitur.
"No," he said slowly. "I don't think it's something either of us felt comfortable discussing."
"Yeah, you're probably right." The black mongrel grinned. "And I didn't feel like admitting what a dumbass I'd been."
Guy snorted.
"Not like that's anything new," he said, and laughed when Riki flipped him off.
"How did you meet his royal Blondieness?" he asked. He'd resist saying so under torture, but he was dying of curiosity. It had always been beyond him how Riki had hooked up with a guy like Iason in the first place. Not much opportunity.
One corner of Riki's mouth quirked up.
"I was in Midas targeting a car to jack. Got jumped by a pack of wanna-bes looking to make a name for themselves by taking down 'Riki the Dark'. I almost kicked their asses, but I got distracted, didn't pay attention to one of the guys I'd already dropped and he took my legs out."
"Sounds like something you would've done," Guy said. "You have no sense of self-preservation when you've got a mad on."
Riki's lips took on a rueful curve.
"Yeah. I'm dumb as a rock when I'm pissed. And while I was paying for my stupidity, Iason drove by. He said he stopped to watch 'cause he wanted to see if I could really take on five guys at once." Riki grinned. "I think he just didn't want to admit he thought I was cute."
"The ego on you." Guy rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "It's amazing we can both fit in here with it."
"Anyway," Riki shot Guy a pointed 'shut-up' look, "the punk doing all the talking pulled a knife. Next thing I know, there's this really tall Blonde Elite standing there, holding the guy a couple feet off the ground. By his wrist. Probably crushed the damn thing.
Rest of the gang took one look at the big, scary Blondie and beat it. Iason was just gonna leave, but you know me, I had to go and shoot my mouth off. Yelled at him for helping, then offered to fuck him by way of discharging my debt."
Riki's mouth curved in good-natured self-mockery as the other mongrel did his best to stifle his laughter.
"You know something Guy? Sometimes I can't believe some of the shit I did back then. It was another lifetime."
Guy looked down at his hands.
"You don't have to explain that to me, Riki. I know all about regrets and second chances."
"Guess you would."
They were silent for long minutes before Guy roused himself to ask:
"Did you become his pet then? Is that how it happened?"
"Nah." Riki ran a hand through already messy hair. "I took him to one of those by-the-hour places on the edge of Apatia. Told him to get it over with." He shook his head, laughing at his younger self. "He said he wasn't so desperate that he had to touch a mongrel. Stung my pride, so I goaded him some more. He finally got up and told me to take my clothes off, backed me against a wall, and made me come four times in a row without even taking off his gloves. Then he left."
Guy's mouth dropped open.
"You have got to be shitting me."
"Nope." Riki grinned widely. "At the time I was pretty mad, but when I think about it now, it just cracks me up."
"How the hell did you end up in Apatia, then?"
"I didn't. I was in Eos most of those three years. When I wasn't at the Pet Academy, that is," he added with a grimace of distaste. "Iason sent some of his goons to pick me up two months after the Midas thing, and that was it. I didn't breathe free air until he decided to cut me loose for a year."
"So that's why you came back to Ceres."
"Yep. And then he finally had enough waiting and sent some more goons after me. A little more subtle, but basically the same thing. I was mainly pissed that he dragged you and the guys into our personal war."
Leaning one hip against the pool table, the swordsman braced himself with his cue, studying the man opposite him with open curiosity.
"You never meant to stay, did you? You would have gone back to him, anyway."
Tugging his mirrors off, Riki dropped them on the round table beside his cigs. His chin came up and he unflinchingly met Guy's gaze.
"Don't know for sure. Probably, though. I went back for him at Dana Bahn. And I'm back now." Riki's eyes unfocused, looking through Guy into the past. "I think, sometimes, half the reason I left was to prove to him that I would come home. And to prove to myself that I could make it out there on my own."
Black eyes snapped back into the present.
"Took me a while to realize that I never had to prove anything to him. He told me that. A lot. But I don't think I really believed it until about a year ago."
"Why aren't you in Eos, then?" Guy asked, one eyebrow cocked.
Riki grinned ruefully.
"Ain't that easy, man. This is Iason we're talking about. Pissed ain't the word for what he's gonna be. And I have a feeling that I'm gonna be wearing the real thing for a while to go with these," he held up his silver-cuffed wrists for Guy's inspection.
The braided swordsman just shook his head.
"You're crazy, Riki. Always have been-,"
"Always will be," Riki finished for him. His head tilted to the side and he eyed the other mongrel. "So... you want him?"
The tension was back in Guy's muscles, his gaze fixed rigidly on the wall opposite him.
"And just what the hell," he asked, his enunciation precise, "is that supposed to mean?"
"Absolutely nothing," Riki said promptly. "But I gotta recommend gettin' off your ass on this one. Who knows where Iason'll ship him off to next?"
Guy's expression went from rigid to stony in a matter of seconds.
"I guess that's their business," he said tonelessly.
The other mongrel chuffed out an exasperated laugh.
"You're worse than I was, man. Hey!" Leather-wrapped fingers curled around the mahogany-haired mongrel's wrist and Guy's eyes jerked to Riki's. The black pools glistened, refusing to release him.
"Look, the whole point of this is that you're wasting time, just like I did... like I've been doing. I saw the way he looked at you before he left. You're the crazy one if you don't go after something you both want. And I never thought I'd say this, but... he's a good guy. You could do a whole hell of a lot worse."
Dark brows veed, and Guy twisted his wrist in a way that caused Riki to let out a small yelp and stare reproachfully at him, shaking stinging fingers.
"Okay, okay! Do not taunt the happy-fun-ball. Try to help, and all I get is abuse," he mumbled, sucking on one of the offended digits.
The soft beep of his wrist band thankfully interrupted what promised to become one of Riki's descents into outrageously exaggerated maudlinity, and Guy breathed a silent sigh of relief. The black mongrel frowned at the band.
"Hm. Wonder what's wrong? Shreve knows better than to page me when I'm off-call. Must be serious." He looked up at the swordsman. "I gotta go, Guy. You gonna hang here?"
Broad shoulders lifted then fell.
"There's a good place to train over on Fifth. Midas offers little that appeals to me."
Riki laughed aloud at the distaste on his friend's face.
"Christ, Guy, I never would've thought that getting your ass kicked was number one on your fun meter."
Guy's features took on an arrogant cast, that brow rising once more.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's better to give than receive?"
4
"May I take your coat, Sir?"
Katze nodded without looking at the Furniture, allowing slim hands to slide the ankle-length cashmere from his shoulders. His eyes moved restlessly, scanning the interior of the room before him.
The floor slanted downwards, giving the club a sunken appearance, and dim lighting illumined leather and wood – real oak, at that. Muted voices and the clink of glasses drifted to the dealer's ears, creating a hushed, intimate atmosphere that would have been welcome on almost any other night.
Cervantes was an extremely private gentleman's club, catering to the very wealthy of Midas. Hair-color amongst its patrons ranged from violet to silver to emerald green. A fascinating mix of Elite and middle-class mingled here; this was the place two worlds met... the place where mind-staggering amounts of credits exchanged hands, cementing alliances unacknowledged in the light of day, or the Towers of Tanagura.
Scanning the vari-colored heads, he noted two Blondies, but passed them over. Neither boasted that unique moon-pale waterfall of hair.
"Would Sir prefer a booth or a table... or perhaps Sir has reserved a private room?"
"Sir has not," Katze replied, his tone clipped. "A booth, if you please. One facing this entrance."
"Certainly, Mr. Katze."
Leading him to a well-apportioned alcove, the Furniture waited as he seated himself, took his drink order and bowed himself away, leaving Midas' Boss to stare irritably towards the foyer. No platinum-haired Blondies to be seen. Where the hell was he?
"Is this seat taken?"
The rich voice flowed smoothly over his ears. If he closed his eyes, he'd see... a very different face from the one that presented itself.
Clever maquillage enhanced the beautiful bone-structure, expensive cobalt silk conforming flawlessly to the tall, lithe body it concealed. Sea-foam hair streamed over dark blue, and Katze, after a moment of surprise, realized that disguise was the only option open to Apollo. The mirror-image of Amoi's emperor-in-all-but-name must lead a precarious existence at best. And a very dangerous one at worst.
The... Elite? Blondie? Test-tube experiment??... seated himself without waiting for the dealer's invitation, disposing himself gracefully against the buttery leather of the cushioned seat. A slim hand, adorned by finely-wrought golden webs, lifted and the Furniture appeared instantly.
"How may I serve you, Mr. Navarro?" the man asked, his tone even more subservient than that with which he'd addressed Midas' Boss.
"You may bring me my usual, Manuel. And a Nightshade, I think. The flavor was... quite pleasant, as I recall."
Turning from the deeply bowing servitor, Apollo met Katze's fascinated gaze. The corners of his mouth turned up.
"Have I grown a third eye since last I looked in the mirror? Or is it my present appearance that has garnered your attention?"
The red-head suddenly realized that he'd been staring... quite blatantly, too. Heat pricked at his throat and face, and he ruthlessly yanked himself back under control. Great Gods, he's reduced me to school-boy reactions, he thought in disgust. Get a grip, Katze.
"I confess I was expecting something different," he said, shrugging. "I wasn't thinking clearly, or I would have realized that it wouldn't be very intelligent of you to walk in here – er – naked."
The hint of a smile widened.
"What a fascinating mental picture that presents. But you are correct." Shining blue-green hair spilled over broad shoulders as the man opposite him tilted his head slightly. "And, if I am not mistaken, about to expire from rampant curiosity."
The Furniture chose that moment to return, setting a glass balloon filled with rich amber liquid in front of the Blondie-turned-plebian. Proffering a long, thin cigarillo, the servitor waited while the green-haired man lifted it to catch the scent. After a moment, Apollo nodded then waited as the Furniture clipped, then lit it for him.
A slim stream of smoke curled from his lips, wafting towards Katze's nostrils and filling them with the smell of vanilla and cinnamon.
"Pleasant," he murmured, and Apollo inclined his head.
"I find them so. Forgive my ill manners. Would you care for one?"
"No thanks, I've my own." The red mongrel pulled a silver case from his pocket and retrieved a cig. "And you're right... if you don't intend to tell me anything tonight, I think I'll just excuse myself. I find that Ceres bar fights are wonderful tension relievers."
"Far be it from me to have that on my conscience."
They studied each other across the expanse of oak: mongrel and Blondie... or not.
"At the risk of sounding trite... who are you? There are no rumors to indicate the existence of someone like you. How is that possible?"
The eyes watching him were silver, unless the man had altered them along with the rest of his appearance. They glowed eerily in the soft lighting, the cigar's red flame glimmering in their depths.
"I suppose you refer to my physical form?" When Katze raised one red brow, a low laugh sounded through the booth. "Before I answer, I've a question for you. How well do you know your city?"
"How well...?"
"Yes. You run the Market. You are the Market. They call you the Boss of Midas. But your name is irrevocably linked to the Chairman. Midas fears you and you are grudgingly respected in Tanagura. You've become an institution in this town. In other words, Katze, you've lost your edge."
Another man's mouth might have dropped open. Perhaps his eyes would have grown to three times their normal size. On Katze's face a faint line formed between winged brows.
"I'm not quite sure of your meaning."
"You are the establishment, here. Tanagura's effort to keep a lid on illegal trade, substances... and services. I'm sure you're aware that the underbelly of your world extends beyond your reach. But do you know how far that is?"
Golden eyes slitted.
"If you are suggesting that I cannot control-,"
"But no." Another wave of spiced smoke drifted lazily towards him as Apollo exhaled. "I do not suggest your incompetence, merely your ignorance. Three years ago you radically altered Amoi. She is still in ferment."
The red mongrel leaned back against deep cushioning, meeting those storm-colored eyes that watched him like a felis with its prey.
"What do you want from me? More importantly, what do you want from him?"
Amusement lit the eyes: lightning amidst thunderclouds.
"I'm no threat to him, Katze. I wouldn't be in his position for a billion credits. Tanagura's difficulties lie alongside a threat to me and mine, though. I'd like to reach an agreement that will be beneficial to us both. But to gain his trust, I must first gain yours. I'm well aware that the only way to him is through you."
The dealer's shoulders twitched. Very few had ever made that correlation. Those who had were dead. Somehow, he didn't think that would be an option with this man.
Apollo rose gracefully, beckoning the Furniture as he did.
"Manuel, put this on my tab and fetch our coats."
"Yes Sir."
Sea-green hair swirled as the beautiful chameleon turned to look at the red-head.
"Come with me, tonight. I want to show you... change in progress. And perhaps speak of why Tanagura is being torn apart by her own hands."
Katze stared up at Apollo, running everything the man had said over again in his head. Was this idiocy on his part? Maybe. Could it be some temptingly-baited trap? Certainly. Was he going?
Sliding to his feet, he nodded once to the man who waited, and strode back through the maze of tables.
Was he going? Without a doubt.
End Part 2 - TBC