Force Majeur

by Juxian Tang (translation by Anna Rain)

Part 3

6:00

The screen was left on, flashing with multi-colored lights. From afar, through the pulsing in his ears, Raoul could hear bitter, desperate Julius' sobs.

"It's my fault... I couldn't stop him."

For a moment he wanted to answer, to say that if Katze had decided to do something, it was hardly possible to stop him. He kept silent; suddenly the room spun around him. He rested his fingers against the corner of the table – and straightened at once. No, he didn't have time for weakness.

"I allowed him to deceive me."

You're not the only one – echoed in his mind. He pushed his hair away from his face, trying not to hear Julius' choking words. The numbness subsided. Raoul knew what he needed to do. He needed to sit at the computer and try to understand what exactly Katze had done – try to estimate the damage. He couldn't allow himself to think of anything else.

He pulled the keyboard closer, his fingers didn't shiver. Good... just don't think about him, just don't ask questions.

Rows of digits showed up on the screen. Perfect work. Raoul had no idea that Katze was so good. Though, indeed, Iason had mentioned something – but then Raoul was more occupied by his own obsession with Katze. And now he saw the effects of Katze's work. His program cut down the system's protection, like a narrow blade, faultlessly, almost painlessly. Thin like a hair, a gap almost impossible to notice. Until the moment when the program starts to work. And then everything would be over.

How could it not be over? Jupiter would never forgive him for what had happened – would never forgive him his imprudence. He would be given such a treatment that not even a tiny bit of his brain would be left unharmed. Raoul didn't shudder, he just bluntly reminded himself of it.

Though, if they didn't come for him till now, it meant that Jupiter hadn't noticed anything yet. Probably... perhaps... but then why did he manage to figure it out so easily? Could it be that Katze did it on purpose? Maybe it was some sort of a warning – so that he, Raoul, had a chance to prepare himself?

He felt cold.

No, stop it, leave those stupid hopes. He betrayed you without a blink of an eye. Yesterday he was answering your kisses, entwined your fingers with his own – and for all this time he was getting ready... Raoul abruptly broke the thought. Never mind. It didn't matter. What mattered now was finding some answers.

Like – who was behind this. And whether there was anything he could do – or at least try to do.

A small box of received message popped up at the bottom of the screen. Raoul's hand moved, his heart jumped – in spite of all his efforts to stay cool. Maybe... maybe Katze would explain everything to him now, maybe all this was just some monstrous misunderstanding.

He saw the name of a sender and the hope dispelled, leaving void and bitterness in its stead. Yeah, sure, he mocked himself – just a misunderstanding. How much you would like to believe it.

He nevertheless clicked the box, opening the mail.

"You already know, don't you? Come. Leon."

For a moment he just stared at the screen and the tiny letters were bouncing before his eyes, refusing to form coherent words.

Well – didn't you wish for clarification?

Raoul got up. Accidentally his gaze fell on the figure clad in pink uniform, crouched on his knees – and a suffocating fit of anger engulfed him. There once was another boy, with dark-red hair, who wore the same kind of uniform. But that boy was gone – and somehow Julius had to pay for it. Raoul felt the want to hit him, to feel how the slap in the face will toss the unresisting body on the floor. He raised his hand – and stopped himself.

Great. Go on – hit him. Punish him – he well deserved it, right? He's waiting for it – will accept your wrath without surprise, without a word of protest.

Sudden shame took over him. He knew he should not have felt it – should not have had any kind of emotion at all towards something as low as a furniture. And he well knew where such shame, such weakness, could lead. But it was too late. As if something changed in his perspective, as if a splinter of glass got in his eyes, making him see everything differently.

He could not hit Julius.

Instead he lifted by the chin the reddened, tear-streaked face of the boy.

"Tell Damian to bring out the car."

He had things to think over while on the road – and think he did. At first he consistently chased all the other matters, other memories away from his thoughts – and then, as pieces of the puzzle started to assemble in one, he didn't need to distract himself forcefully anymore.

He understood almost everything. Only it was practically impossible to believe in.

The air was damp, tiny drops of rain making it slightly prickly – and while Raoul walked from the car to the entrance, his hair became covered with a thin layer of moisture. In the mirror-like wall of the elevator he saw his own reflection with those sparkling drops in his hair. He shook his head, feeling the strands become wet, lose the shine – and turned away. It was better to look down, at the city beneath, drifting away.

He went through the empty rooms lit by the multicolored lights, reaching the dome with transparent walls.

"Leon?"

The blondie turned around – white sheet of hair and light-blue ice of the eyes that flashed with such triumph, that Raoul could no longer deny what he suspected.

"You remember?"

He saw Leon's hand tremble a little when he put the glass of wine on the table – and then he stepped forward, his arms entwining around Raoul, drawing him closer, pressing him to himself – tightly, almost painfully. And to find himself caught in this embrace, facing those strands of hair – it was so familiar, so habitual. Like all those years did not exist, like Raoul was once again that naive, obedient boy.

Leon's hair smelled of lilac and almond, as always – and his quickened breathing resounded over Raoul's ear, his whisper was as warm and slightly hoarse as before.

"I remember... my little one."

Raoul tried to break free – but the hands clasped a bit stronger still, forcefully restraining him. He felt Leon's palm on his cheek, pressing his head to his shoulder. Being as he was, Raoul could hardly see Leon's tilted face, the slight smile on his lips.

It can't be... it is all not happening, he though in desperation.

"How... how come?"

"Oh," Leon's lips twitched, spreading into a smile. "You're not the one to take credit for this, angel. You carried out your task flawlessly, erased from my memory everything that bothered Jupiter... that bothered you."

"Do you hate me?" It was the wrong question – how could he hope for Leon's answer to be negative. "Oh, how you must hate me..."

The strong hand with long fingers pressed tighter over his head, stroking his hair – as if soothing him. And when Raoul shuddered, having heard the answer, that hand didn't let him go.

"I hate you, my little one. You can't even begin to imagine, how I hate you."

"In that case you shall be pleased."

His own nervous chuckle sounded strained. Even though what he said was true. As soon as Jupiter discovers the break-in – discovers where the invasion came from – he will find himself in the same chair, where Leon once was. It's only that after that, there will be hardly anything left of Raoul's memory.

But did Leon realize, how utterly profound his vengeance really was? Somehow this thought hit Raoul much stronger than Leon's revelations. Did he know about him and Katze? No, not likely – not likely that Leon would ever presume that Raoul – Raoul, who was straight-laced to the point of repulsion, could develop any feelings towards a former furniture. Like they say – there is no prude like a reformed whore... right?

He hurried to clear his mind of this thought – as if by merely thinking of Katze he risked Leon could guess. No, he'll deal with it himself... it'll be his own private secret.

"Pleased, Raoul?" Leon laughed almost merrily. "The pleasure, I'm only beginning to derive it."

"And you are not afraid to play with Jupiter for this?"

"Hmm... what makes you think it's a game?" Finally Leon let him go, retreated for half a step. Raoul inhaled the air hungrily, as if Leon's hands were really choking him. But the scent – lilac and almond – still lingered on him. "Believe me, my little one, it would've been a mindless waste of resources to do all this just for the sake of avenging on you. Katze really is an excellent hacker – he accomplished the task we were preparing for years."

"We?"

"Of course. I am not alone. You left me alone – that much is true; but I've been not alone for a long time now. Who do you think gave me back my memories – preserved what you so diligently tried to destroy? Oh, for a couple of years I really did live in the blissful obliviousness concerning... our common past. But then I was given back what was lost. Can you imagine how I felt? When looking at you, at Iason? It was hell, much worse than the one I went through having discovered that you testified against me."

"I was given back my memory," he continued. "So that I could become a part of the organization. And I did. I didn't want to be alone anymore."

Blood was pulsing in his veins, hot and strong. Raoul felt his cheeks burning with agonizing shame, with realization. For several years already Leon did remember everything. For all those years, when he was receiving Raoul at his place, engaging in social conversations with him...

For a moment, even the thought about what kind of organization Leon was talking about seemed less important. However, Raoul recovered at once.

"What are you planning to do?"

"It's obvious, Raoul. We want to put an end to Jupiter."

"It's madness."

"Why?"

"Because..." because she always existed – seemed unshakable, like the foundation of Amoi. But it was a poor argument.

Iason, he thought suddenly – Iason could've dealt with this. All at once Raoul felt so lone and helpless – like he hasn't felt ever since those first days after Iason's death.

But what if... what if Iason would've shared Leon's way of thinking? What if in his rebel against norms imposed by Jupiter he would've gone as far?

"What do you have to offer in substitution of Jupiter? What makes you think you could rule better than her?"

"Better – worse..." Leon's laughter was contemptuous, almost rude. "You think I care about this? We will rule. That is all that matters. She turned me into a mindless doll, a decorative blondie with brains of a pet..."

"That is not true..."

"Don't you dare interrupt me. You turned me into this. But now we will lock Jupiter up in her own cell – like in a harem, and we will be the owners. You know, in the end I should be grateful to you for that brainwash, Raoul. Before that I was a naive romanticist, an old gullible fool. You dispelled me of illusions."

So that means it is all my own doing, Raoul thought. But it was really so. It was his fault – and he was paying for it.

"Now I know the exact price for everything. And it is time for me to present the bill."

Leon's voice broke; Raoul flinched. If anything, that crack in Leon's voice startled him more than the meaning of his words. He changed, really changed – there was a time when no matter what he would have not allowed himself such a breakdown.

He... he is not completely sane. This thought stunned Raoul, made him shrink away with confusion and anguish. Leon was half delirious. And it was also his, Raoul's, fault.

All of a sudden Leon stretched out his hand – something shiny sparkled in it – and a moment after Raoul choked with pain, thrown to his knees in a violent spasm. Gleaming curve of a collar encircled his throat, piercing him with surges of racking agony.

He croaked, trying to tear off the collar, but ended up only hurting his fingers. Through the veil he could make out the outline of Leon, towering over him. Then the pain ceased. He continued to shudder for some time still, gasping for air, feeling a thin line of nonactivated collar around his neck.

He felt so weak, that he couldn't even try to get up. Everything seemed blurry before his eyes.

"Pain collar," Leon commented softly. "It was delivered for me from Kamaas. One excellent device."

Raoul couldn't answer. He was still panting, his breathing convulsive. He used the carpet for support, trying to stand up straight.

"Oh come on," Leon's fingers lifted his chin – and ashamed, Raoul realized that his face was wet with tears. "Very painful, isn't it? But still not as painful as what I felt, when I found out you were cheating on me with Iason Mink – when you betrayed me for the sake of Iason."

His tongue was bleeding – he bit it when the collar was activated. Raoul licked his dry lips.

"You are... insane."

"Oh really?" Leon's voice became so sharp, that Raoul expected another fit of pain, shrinking instinctively from fear. Instead Leon leaned to him, carefully helping him to get up. "You deem me insane because I feel pain? Well, if you don't understand this, I will show you what pain is. On Kamaas they use these collars to train dkhahti – wild animals that they catch. Perhaps, you are such a stupid animal yourself as well, Raoul."

The words were insulting – but the lips that touched Raoul's face were soft and warm. A tongue slid over his cheek, collecting his tears.

"Let's go," Leon said.

His hand came around Raoul's waist. The thumb of the other hand was still resting on the activator's button.

"Where to?" Raoul whispered.

"With me."

On the way he realized where they were heading. Hysterical laughter escaped his lips.

"There were times when you didn't bother with getting to the bedroom."

He thought that it somehow hurt Leon.

"Well, it's not like I'm getting any younger. Now I am more concerned with comfort."

Due to all the absurdity of the situation – or maybe due to the phantom-pain strained nerves, Raoul could not stop giggling. Jupiter, they were going to have sex. To hell with Amoi, with a new riot attempt that – oh, my! – could actually be successful. Leon wanted to drag him to the bed.

"You could've told me, you need it so badly," he murmured. "Most likely I would not have said no."

"And I do not expect you to say no to me."

Leon's tone made him cringe in expectation of another outburst of pain. Raoul felt a trickle of sweat rolling down his back. He was afraid of that pain – it was too strong... a kind of pain, that one could not be prepared for. But Leon did not press the button. He opened the door and pushed Raoul into the room.

Everything was just like before – the shiny silk of light-violet sheets – and the scent of lilac was so intense here, that Raoul involuntarily brought his hand to the temple. Not a trace of the feverish joviality left. At once, what Leon wanted from him, didn't seem so insignificant anymore.

Leon turned him around, his palms cradling Raoul's face – on the one side there was the warmth of skin, on the other, the cool case of the collar remote control, pressing to his cheek. Raoul felt a sharp metallic edge, unwittingly trying to escape the contact – but in the next instant Leon's mouth covered his lips, imperatively crushing, parting them. His tongue effortlessly overcame the resistance, entering Raoul's mouth.

The kiss was hurtful – lips pressed to the teeth – and the hand on the back of his head was not letting him withdraw, pressing ever so tightly. Don't want this... Raoul realized with unexpected clarity – and this thought wiped out all the others, leaving him with the purely instinctive need to free himself. He wrenched himself out, pushed Leon away, panting. Almost without anger, Leon slapped him across the face.

It was not painful, only offensive.

"You're forgetting yourself, Leon..."

"I think, you're the one forgetting here, my little one. Shall I remind you who's in control now?"

The black box of the remote flashed in his white fingers.

"Shall I press it?"

Raoul could not stand to look at the damned thing. For something to tame a blondie in such a way, to turn him into an obedient animal – it was intolerably humiliating. There was something perverted in it.

But he knew he had lost. Leon would do it, should Raoul only give him a reason. Or maybe he would do it without a reason at all – just because he liked it.

"So do it," Raoul jerked up his head. Fool, don't anger him... his nails sank into his palms to the point of drawing blood. "It would most certainly help."

For several long seconds nothing was happening, then Leon gave a laugh and dropped his hand.

"I like it, when you show spirit. You became so... independent during those years. Ten years ago you were nothing more than a silly puppy – with these fluffy curls of yours. You grew up, my little one – and you grew up without me. F-14!"

Movement in the room behind him made Raoul look back. Only now did he notice that there was an android in the bedroom that was standing by the wall all this time and was now moving towards Leon's voice.

"I will not hurt you," Leon whispered. "Not yet at least."

He didn't even have time to retreat, the android's hands clenched on his wrists. The android was of the reinforced type, even a blondie wouldn't be able to overpower it. Still, Raoul gave it a try, furiously pulling at his hands caught in the grip.

"Do you even realize what you are doing, Leon? How dare you?"

"Easy, calm down, you'll only break your wrists," but Raoul couldn't calm down. A collar – it was humiliating; but the feel of android's grip on his hands – it was even worse! Only those condemned to punishment by Jupiter were subjected to such treatment.

Oh... realizing this Raoul even ceased to struggle. His mouth opened a crack, but he stayed silent. Of course... Leon wanted him to feel this way. It was a wise revenge.

Feeling Leon's gaze on him, he looked up, as if hypnotized. Fingers ran over his cheek once again

"Do you remember, when I was placed in that chair... do you know why I never said anything back then? I could've tried – get through to you by screaming. And I so wanted to scream. But I waited for you to say something yourself. But you didn't say a word. You didn't even look at me."

I couldn't, Raoul wanted to contradict – but excuses did not matter anymore. For now he had to look Leon in the eye, could not turn away. Leon pulled the neckband of Raoul's robe. He heard the fabric tearing. Leon's hand wriggled into the gap, sliding over his chest.

"On the bed, F-14."

Resistance would only mean twisting his hands. He was thrown onto the bed, on his back; the android was still holding his wrists tight, making him stretch his arms over his head. Leisurely, Leon sank down beside him.

"Don't look like that, Raoul, please. My heart aches, seeing you look so hurt. I won't do anything you don't like. You used to like it before, did you not?"

His hands slid under the robe, caressing his chest, squeezing his nipples. Raoul bit his lip, trying to concentrate on pain, to distract himself from the uncontrollable reaction of his body. Leon was just manipulating him – like a windup doll – press here, touch there – and it will work. But that was exactly it, everything worked out – so easily, as if Raoul was programmed to respond to these caresses.

"You still like it even now," Leon smiled, leaning to his chest.

His lips were warm and velvety, his teeth clasping with a bit more strength – and Raoul jerked, till his wrists hurt – but this time not in an attempt to escape, but arching up, striving to meet Leon's mouth. His ears caught a silky, swishing sound of a zipper being opened – and he knew what was to follow this – and he trembled with anticipation – and with repulsion at himself. Leon's hand encircled his hot, erect cock.

No...

"No..." he heard himself say it out laud.

"Why?" Leon traced his temples with his hand – and it was so short-lived and innocent a caress, that it was almost believable that there never were those ten years – and nothing was wrong between them.

Why? Raoul could not find an answer – and what would it change if he did? Leon would let him go? Raoul closed his eyes – the hand resumed stroking his erection.

"You will tell me how Iason used to caress you, will you? Later, when we're finished. You will tell me everything."

Iason... why is he bringing up Iason? But it was for the better, he didn't need to protect this. If he didn't need to share other memories... For an instant another vision flashed through his mind, of a pale face, surrounded by disheveled dark-red hair, slowly rising crescents of dark eyelashes over the teasingly gentle, mystically pensive eyes of dark amber.

Don't think about it!

His body arched up, and moaning, he came into Leon's hand – then fell back on the bed, panting.

A strand of Leon's hair was touching his cheek, and having opened his eyes, Raoul met a smiling gaze.

"Release him, F-14," Leon uttered softly. "There will be no more resistance from him, right?"

The steel grip on his wrists unclenched, which made Raoul instinctively pull his arms to his chest, though it was too late for any defense.

"I'm not going to ask whether you felt good," Leon showed him the palm covered in white. Raoul felt nausea and turned away. "Now it's my turn to feel good, you agree? Come on, turn over – just the way I like it."

It'll be easier not to look... He turned over to stand on all fours, nestling his head in the pillow. This way he could see nothing, except for the web of his own hair.

He clasped the sheet with his hands when Leon entered him. His body grew out of habit of penetration, but he still remembered everything – this rhythm, these hand on his hips, these thrusts, making him press his forehead into the entwined arms.

It was all over in a couple of minutes. He felt Leon leaving the bed. Raoul started to dress himself.

"Don't you want to shower?"

"I... I need to go..."

"As you wish. Oh," it seemed as if Leon just only now noticed the torn neckband. "Sorry, I ruined your clothes."

"It's nothing."

"Raoul?"

Obeying the silent order, he stood facing Leon. The look in the pale blue eyes was almost tender.

"Whatever happened between us in the past, Raoul, I want you to know – I always treasured you. I still treasure you. So, you have a chance – one last chance. You can join us – and it will be your salvation. You should be on our side when it all happens. No, not that – you should be on my side. Then I'll be able to protect you. Do you understand, my little one?"

What was there to not understand?

"So you agree?"

"I don't think I have a choice," he smiled lopsidedly.

---

The reflection in the mirror inside the elevator showed a very disheveled blondie, covering himself in his coat as if he was cold. The blondie appeared ruffled and sick. Raoul felt his stomach crumple. Just great; nothing will make the picture more complete than him throwing up here. He managed to control himself – inhaled and exhaled deeply several times and the nausea receded.

Unwillingly he reached with his hand to touch the neck, feeling a thin pinkish line of burned skin there.

"No matter how much I wished to leave my present on you, it can evoke suspicions," he recalled Leon saying. With a soft click the collar unlocked and, shrinking into a tiny ring, disappeared in Leon's palm. "You will wear it again – later..."

It seemed he was really going to throw up. Raoul covered his mouth with a hand. Meanwhile the elevator had come to a stop and the breeze of cool air helped him recover his senses. For a while he just stood there, breathing convulsively – until he caught a strange stare directed at him by a passerby.

You should be more careful. No need to give yourself away – it is all not over yet. He sank into the dim interior of the car.

"Home."

At least at home there will be no one to look at him. He snuggled himself tighter into the coat. Of course, thinking that it was safe at home was a mistake. There was nowhere safe now.

"We will contact you," Leon had told him.

And only when Raoul had already left Leon's apartment did he remember that one question remained unasked – what about Katze? He could also ask about another thing – how did they manage to convince Katze to do what he did? Or maybe it was all planned beforehand – ever since that call from the police station? Katze had called him then because he needed... to gain Raoul's trust?

No, no... he pressed his hands to the temples – the pain this thought elicited was almost as strong as from the collar. But it was Raoul himself who wanted to do it – he himself retrieved Katze from the police station, he himself wanted to see him. They could not manipulate him like this!

They could, probably. Leon knew him well enough when they were together – and who knows how well he could've studied Raoul during these last years, watching him from the sidelines.

Maybe that was exactly the reason Raoul did not ask anything – for he was afraid to hear that it was all planned, that Katze just played with him.

Jupiter, and he thought that Iason's weakness was fatal. And where did his own weakness lead him when he let former furniture...

Yes, exactly – that was the way he should have regarded Katze. What could one expect from a mongrel, from a furniture? Raoul called it upon himself. Mongrels should've stayed where they were – in Ceres. Was he really as insane as to let one of them into his own bed?

He had let – and not only that. He'd enjoyed it – cried with tears of pleasure feeling Katze's hair tickle his thighs...

He jerked at his coat, tearing it open. It was hard to breathe. The car glided into the yard and Raoul hurriedly got out of it, preceded to the bedroom without stopping. He cast his clothes on the floor, turned on the water in the bathroom.

At last... and he didn't know what exactly he was so eagerly trying to wash away from his body – the traces of the intercourse with Leon or the memories of Katze's touches. He had time to notice that the sheets on the bed were clean – thank Jupiter. Now there'll be nothing left, not even the scent.

And he'll be able to forget what he let himself do, what he let to be done to him... if need be, he'll efface it with acid out of his system – the memory of Katze's soft mouth around his cock, of those uncertain, tentative caresses with which they started – of their intimacy.

All of this was just a temporary intoxication – and Raoul always knew that Katze didn't deserve even as much as Raoul's thought of him. He was just a page in Raoul's life – a shameful page that needs to be forgotten.

His body was burning – so fiercely was he scrubbing it with a sponge. He could barely see his own hands through all the steam around him – but it was even better this way, he didn't want to see anything.

Like back then, the night he preformed the correction on Leon. But that time it was Katze who came and dragged him out of the shower.

You still want him to come?

Raoul turned off the tap, stopping the water flow. Thin streaks were running down his hair and falling on the bath floor with melodious tinkling. He froze, leaning on the wall.

No, he didn't want for Katze to return. It was all over. Didn't he have some pride after all?

Yes, very funny – blondie's pride broken by... a furniture.

He got out, dried himself off. In the room on the bed a fresh change of clothes already awaited him. Feeling the cool touch of silk on his heated skin made him shiver a bit. But now, being properly dressed, it was easier to regain his composure.

Raoul brushed a comb through his hair. The strands were still damp but were drying quickly. He grabbed a bottle of perfume and sprayed a bit of it on himself. To feel only his own scent was a relief.

What now? The blondie looking back at him from the mirror was carefully dressed, neatly combed – but his eyes had this haunted look – it bothered Raoul the most.

They left him no choice, right? Leon and Katze – they did everything to ensure it. Nonsense. There was always a choice. One only needed to make a decision.

Even if it will be the death of him. Even if he will have to pay a whatever price. He will not play their games.

The bottle of perfume flashed with its crystal edges in his palm. He launched it into the mirror seeing his own reflection splintered into long shivers now covering the floor.

The scent of citrus and sea salt became unbearable. Raoul turned on his heals and left, trying to avoid stepping on the glass.

Julius met him in the hall, his face worried.

"Clean it all up there, will you. I'm going out."

Julius nodded – and Raoul added, not really knowing why, maybe as to not have a chance to go back on it:

"To Jupiter."

---

Three months later

When are you going to let him go, bitch?

He did not say it aloud, didn't even whisper it inwardly to himself. It flashed through his mind, blinding like a lightning – but Julius' face didn't falter, his gaze remained unaffected. He stood just as still, with a coat hanging over his outstretched arms.

He saw her reflection in the mirror – saw her straighten her robe leisurely, trace the hair with her fingers, letting one strand carelessly fall over the face. Julius clenched his teeth painfully. This gesture... she appropriated it – just like she appropriated all the rest. Her gaze in the mirror fell on him – cold and mocking – the kind that made him realize he failed to conceal anything. She has read his mind – like she always did.

Raoul's long golden eyelashes lowered – and his face, devoid of this impassive icy look, once again became so vulnerable and familiar.

Julius covered his shoulders with the coat. A long fingered hand opened palm up to him, and he habitually placed the gloves in it.

"Is the car ready?"

"Yes, senator Jupiter."

The sapphire of her eyes was almost intolerably bright, and the gaze so distant, as if she could see something unreachable for the others – and what she saw pleased her.

"Perfect," she smiled. "We have a lot to do today."

She always had a lot to do, hadn't she? And she managed it all brilliantly. Julius could have admired her, if only... if only he didn't hate her so much.

And it tormented him the most: to look in the face that he loved so dear and to know that behind those handsome features there was nothing left of his master. It was insufferable... it was killing him.

And his master – was he already dead?

It all happened on that dreadful day that started so unfortunate, that Julius thought it could not get any worse. He would've gladly died if only it helped to prevent Katze's betrayal. But when it did happen, deep inside his little soul he felt a quiet, secret joy. Now Raoul realized who Katze really was. Now there will be no more place for Katze in his life. Now no one will stand between Raoul and him, Julius.

What a fool he was...

He remembered Raoul coming back from somewhere draped in his coat – and Julius picked up his clothes when Raoul had shed them. He traced his fingers over the torn fabric, like it was something dangerous, something incomprehensible. Julius knew his master's scent all too well not to sense another's scent mixed with it on the clothes.

And then Raoul asked for the car again – and in his room the smell of broken perfume was so strong that Julius almost lost his conscience having entered it.

Raoul said he was going to Jupiter – that Julius did remember. He was absent till the morning of the next day. During that time everything on Amoi had changed.

And when at long last Raoul returned, it was no longer him – it was her.

Sometimes Julius wondered if his master knew it was going to be like this. Perhaps he thought it would be only a temporary measure – only to suppress the riot. Or maybe Raoul knew everything and agreed to all of it beforehand – because it was unbearable to go on living, because even this non-existence was better than the painful reality?

Later on Julius found out what happened – read the official report, which for once seemed to be true. Conspiracy to isolate Jupiter... deprive her of the connection with her people... stability endangering actions... And a faithful son of Jupiter, thwarting the plot, granting his own conscience to merge with her.

No one could lock her up anymore – she emerged from her laser-protected room. The computer intellect made flesh through the body of her own creation.

It seemed she had wanted to do so for a long time – to transfer her virtual conscience into a physical body. Everything was almost ready – it's only that the 'conspiracy of the superiors', as it was named afterwards, made her get a move on.

The transfer required such a consumption of energy that most of Tanagura submerged into darkness. It appeared that conspirators realized what was going on. They rushed to blow up energy collectors – but it was too late. Nothing could be done to stop Jupiter.

It was one hell of a night. Julius recalled the lights going out – the vibration of distant explosions – outbursts of fire. And then the horizon flamed with red. Ceres was burning.

It was said that the blondie-conspirators used mongrels to set up explosions. And when the short circuit set Ceres on fire, Jupiter issued a special order not to extinguish it.

"They called it upon themselves."

In the end the fires went out by themselves – when it began raining. Almost half of Ceres had burned out – and even several days later some houses were still smoldering.

Julius remembered the interview that Jupiter gave to one of the federal TV companies.

"Do you think it is acceptable that you let hundreds of your citizens die and didn't even try to take any measures to rescue them?"

"Inhabitants of Ceres are not citizens of Amoi."

"But they are people. It is genocide."

"Let me remind it to the federal governments that interfering with internal affairs of independent colonies means going against interplanetary declaration."

Julius watched Raoul's fingers push a feathery strand of hair away from the face with a gesture familiar to the bone – and he felt as if his heart was about to break.

Jupiter enjoyed giving interviews. The situation on Amoi attracted attention – so there were more than enough people willing to obtain them. All in all Jupiter liked to be in the public eye, liked posing for the photos... Julius was told to collect everything that was said or written about her. And from a score of photographs one face was looking at him – a face of a perfect doll – Raoul's face.

Julius could have left – take off the ring and return to the charred ruins of Ceres, to try to survive there. Maybe he would've even succeeded in it. He could have left – not to watch Jupiter's gaze make Raoul's face unfamiliar and cold. Leave and forget everything he had to witness serving her.

She was so fond of her new body, she wanted to explore all the potential it could offer her. And she managed to find time for everything: for work, for sex, for entertainment with pets... no, she did not break any rules, though she could've done it easily, for she was the one who set them.

Then there were those days when having covered her hands with Raoul's white gloves she was leaving to Limb – to the arrested conspirators, to conduct interrogation – and she always came back with drunken, delirious eyes, through the sapphire of which a red gleam seemed to radiate... the rumors about senator Jupiter's means of dealing with the ones who tried to infringe on her power were so shocking, that Julius could hardly believe them – but at the same time he knew that all of it could well be true.

He stayed not because he was afraid of the consequences. There was one time when she turned her attention to him – not just used his services, but really looked at him, and Julius froze like a rabbit before the snake. She placed her hands on his temples and squeezed.

The pain was so hideous he could not even scream – she turned him inside out, broke his conscience into thousands of piercing pieces. Probably it was very brief – her hands unclenched and he fell to the floor, trying to curl up like a fetus. His uniform was soggy – he wetted himself.

Jupiter was looking down at him, smiling.

"So you do love him that much?"

Julius could not talk, was only shivering.

"Good," she said. "It will insure your loyalty."

She appointed him the secretary not long after that, and Julius' pink uniform changed into a grey outfit. He didn't know why she upgraded his position so much. Because having wrenched his mind out, there was not a chance she didn't notice his hatred, his repulsion towards her. Decided to let it be – confident he would never go against her?

She was right – Julius would never do anything – for the very same reason he stayed beside her, even if sometimes it was just as painful as the brain scan she made him go through.

He believed Raoul was alive. Once in a while, for a very brief moment, behind the mask of Jupiter – in the trembling of the eyelashes, in the gaze – Julius could see his beautiful master again. And during those moments, in Raoul's blue eyes there were no coldness and mockery – but pain and loneliness so profound, that Julius had no doubts: Raoul was there – and he needed help. And for the sake of hope that someday Jupiter will finally set him free – that someday Raoul will return – Julius was willing to wait for however long it takes.

---

The shuttle landed at 7:15 am. Inside the cabin there were only several people, mostly businessmen and dealers. The planet that appealed to politicians was now not so popular among tourists – so lately visitors to Amoi were few in number. Katze stepped out last, went through the long passage into the cosmoport, joined the queue. Out of five identification ports only one was operating.

"Citizenship?"

"Amoi."

"Enter ID number."

Two letters and four digits – he would never be able to forget them. Once, having received citizenship with Iason's help, he feasted his eyes on this number – the digits seemed to present the best combination in the world.

"Checking iris code."

He heard a soft click indicating the code scan.

"Citizen K1418D, OK."

A two seconds pause and the port gates opened before him.

For an instant Katze could not believe that it happened. That was it? He was let back? He was certain he'd get arrested the moment he enters his ID number. But there was no alarm raised, no one was rushing to stop him.

"Move it, don't hold the line," someone's annoyed voice grumbled behind him.

"Sorry," Katze stepped forward.

So, that is all there is to it. And there he was – so much counting on the fact that he will be detained upon arrival, that his plans didn't go beyond that. But, apparently, he wasn't even on the wanted list. Was he so much of a pawn in their eyes to bother spare time and effort on him? However, Jupiter was never known to show mercy towards the lowest, as for Raoul...

Well, perhaps that was exactly the best 'fuck you' from Raoul.

The halls of the cosmoport were dimly lit due to the lack of energy – the after-effects of the failure were not yet eliminated. It must be said though that the lights were lowered quite elegantly – and there were big screens gleaming on the walls.

"Today senator Jupiter holds a meeting with Terra Republic delegation. It is the first meeting on such a high level for decades..."

A dark-blue silk coat, a golden lock of hair carelessly falling on the face. Katze froze; the need to stare at this face was just as strong as the need to turn away, to rid himself of the pain, of the realization that it was no longer Raoul.

He reminded himself: no, look. It is your own doing.

He left the building and stopped in front of the taxi parking lot. A sharp gust of wind hit him in the face – a familiar wind of Amoi. He though he'd never return here. But he was here once again; a criminal at the crime scene.

The taxi door cracked open.

"Where are you heading?"

He got in the car. Well, he certainly had places to head to. For example, the apartment he rented was prepaid for half a year. It would seem he could still go there.

"Drive..."

The road, wet from rain, was glistering in the grey morning light like black silk. The taxi driver turned up the music – some classic tune, overly familiar.

Empty landscapes of suburban road changed into streets.

"Turn into Ceres."

The driver didn't show any surprise. Probably, he never could imagine that Katze could have had anything to do with mongrels – other than that a passenger was free to do as he pleases.

"Wanna have a look at what's left there? An interesting sight I must tell you... Some thrill-seeking tourists are ecstatic about it. I wouldn't advise you to go alone though..."

"It's ok."

The car took a turn. Ahead of them the burnt houses of Ceres were sticking out akin bad teeth.

Though he had already seen it all – Ceres and the rest what happened on Amoi – in the news during his stay on Linea.

He never took Killie to that house he bought for the two of them. With the condition Killie was in it was wiser to stay in the clinic. The staff there was really superb – it was the only reason Killie lived out so long. For almost three months.

Katze knew it would end up like that. Knew that the process was irreversible – right from the day the memory erasure was done. But, probably, he still hoped for something – for some kind of a miracle.

As if by doing what he had done would allow him to buy out Killie's life.

Only it was already too late for that.

Katze thought of the first time he entered the clinic. He was almost ready to discover that the blondie – Leon Tan, now Katze knew the name – the name of 'the traitor of Amoi' – had played a trick on him, that Killie was not there – and that Katze himself will probably be killed. He didn't care much about it – to die would've been the best solution.

Instead he was led to the ward as if his visit was no surprise for them – and the man sleeping on the bad was Killie – Katze recognized him without a shadow of a doubt, even though Killie's eye were closed.

Damn... he didn't want to see that boy! Katze felt nothing for him. Long time ago there was annoyance and contempt – and he completely agreed with Iason's decision to clear the arrogant bastard out of the way. Well, what else did Judas who betrayed his friends deserve?

It may well be fair if the price for Katze's betrayal hadn't been paid so squarely.

Why did he do what he did? There was no escaping this question – no matter how hard Katze sought not to dwell on it. Did he betray Raoul for the sake of Killie? For the sake of a brother, who he had no feelings for?

Or did he do it because, subconsciously, all this time he was ready to accept that he was never meant to be with Raoul? And the thought of it was so unbearable that he chose to destroy everything with his own hands – and in such a way, as not to leave even a scruple of hope?

Maybe Killie had nothing to do with it. Then why Katze came here? He already did hid duty – what was there more to be done? Perhaps, it would be enough to pay the hospital bills – and he'd be able to never see Killie again.

A nurse – not the one from before, another one, Katze noted – asked:

"Do you want to talk to him?"

No, he was going to say, he's had enough. But she took the pause for an answer, injected the medicine.

Killie's body gave a slight jerk, his eyes opened, focusing with effort. His gaze rested on the nurse, and recognition flashed through it. Katze saw him smile.

"Come on, boy," she murmured softly. "Look who's here to see you."

Killie shifted his gaze to Katze – and Katze felt as if something jabbed him in the chest. All his reasoning and self-persuasions seemed so pointless all of a sudden, so empty.

Katze took a step forward. The nurse retreated, letting him come closer.

"Do you remember me?" He asked, knowing that it sounded absurd, made no sense. "I'm your brother."

Killie's serious eyes studied his face very attentively for a few moments. Then he nodded.

"I remember. I saw you in a dream."

Katze didn't go anywhere. He had money – he could stay here as long as it would be necessary.

For some period of time, Katze didn't know why – Killie got better. He could stay conscious longer – sometimes they even got to spend some time together in the park. They didn't talk much – there was nothing to talk about. The life available to Killie was very short, and Katze didn't feel like talking about his past.

And then Killie's memory started to dissolve, like smoke into thin air. Killie, who welcomed Katze so trustingly on their first meeting, now failed to recognize him at times.

"You came from my master, right? You came to take me back?"

Initially, the memory recovered sometimes, and he was happily greeting Katze again. But then those 'blank' periods started to become longer and longer – and then stopped altogether. And, entering the ward, Katze was being met by a distant, impassive gaze.

It was hard for Killie to stay awake – what's the use to torment him? Those last days he was asleep most of the time. One morning Katze came to the clinic – and realized everything by the nurse's sad face.

"It only just happened, unexpectedly – we were just about to inform you. He didn't even regain consciousness..."

Naturally, it was bound to happen sooner or later. What Katze didn't expect was that it would hit him so badly. He entered the ward and saw an empty bed – and everything inside him sank, twisted into a painful knot, like his heart just gave up beating.

The ring closed. He lost his brother – he had no one in his life anymore.

He completed all the formalities connected to cremation – and bought a ticket to Amoi.

Wanted to have a look at the results of his betrayal?

If back then Katze had refused to do it, no doubts the blondies would've found someone else to carry out the task. Katze reminded himself that; but it still didn't change a thing. Maybe if it was not Katze who did it, Raoul wouldn't have gone to such extremes. Maybe even the conspiracy would've been a success.

It didn't matter. To assume what could have been made no sense. Katze did it – and had to live with the consequences.

For example, with this...

The car stopped on the outskirts of Ceres. Katze paid and got out. Under his feet he felt black sloppy mud, he figured it was soot soaked with rain.

Everything looked different here. There was a time when he believed Ceres won't ever change. And now he could hardly make out his way among half-ruined buildings.

He knew he was being followed – felt an observant, weighting gaze, calculating how good of a prey he could be. He shoved his hand into the pocket, letting the movement to be seen – now, most likely, no one will dare attack him – if only the most desperate ones.

Completely ruined blocks gave way to less destructed ones, and he felt some flicker of hope. Then he came round an almost intact building and... there were only ruins ahead. The house he was born in did not exist anymore.

And what did he expect? That fate will be good to him – after all he'd done? What was he thinking on his way here? How he will tell his mother about seeing his brother, that this very brother died on his hands?

Now he will never be able to tell her anything. And she probably wouldn't have cared anyway.

He heard a rustle behind him. He turned around – his heart fell at the sight of a figure wrapped in rags, with gray strands of hair streaming in the wind. He got the impression it could be his mother.

"Hey, sir..." the woman halted, staring intently at him. "Won't you have ten credits – for the burnt down?"

He took out several notes automatically. Dirty clingy fingers grabbed the money – but she kept staring at him.

"That is... I think I saw you before... are you, by any chance, Theresa's son?"

Startled, he turned to her.

"She's alive?"

"No, no, of course not – burned away like a log – in our house everybody died – I'm the only one left. And I saw you, when you came to visit her – she used to always brag about what a good boy she raised..."

He thrust a couple of more notes into her hand, not waiting for her to start begging – if only she would stop talking.

"Thank you, thank you," she was clutching the money, bowing and calling after him. "It's a pity about Theresa, it's a pity – a fine woman she was... and what's left of her – no more than a burnt log..."

The wind drifted her voice away – Katze could no longer hear her.

The house where Sliver lived was a pile of burnt breaks and crumbled beams as well. And nobody came out to him – though Katze stood for a long while, as if hoping that the boy was alive and having noticed him would rush to greet him. He recalled his anger having discovered Sliver hovering around his house. And here he was, standing in front of Sliver's house – but no one came out.

Probably, Katze knew it would be so. He well deserved it.

Yes, he did deserve it – but the boy... and all the rest were buried here?

Go ahead, go on thinking that even if you didn't do it, somebody else would.

He reached the road and flagged a taxi, this time heading home. His apartment was just as he left it, if not for the layer of dust covering the computer screen, the rotating calendar, the bone curved figure.

Mechanically he flipped on the TV – otherwise the silence was overbearing. On the screen a smiling speaker was telling the latest news. Katze sank to the floor, fishing for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket, took one out and shoved it in his mouth.

After the first drag he glanced at the cigarette. White. There were five more left in the pack. One of them was the 'Black Moon' – and sooner or later there will be time for it as well.

---

"When will you set me free?"

"When I no longer need you."

"And you still need me?"

"Of course."

"But everything is under control now, no one is threatening you anymore..."

"Do you really feel so bad with me, my Raoul?"

Her voice, soft and slightly ironical, was entwining with his mind. Apart from her voice he had nothing – there, where he was – in the depth. Only the sound of her voice proved that he still existed.

He wanted it himself – wanted to lose control, to deny his own self – for he hoped that it would bring him peace; for it was too hard to live otherwise – unbearable. And now he was locked up in here, aware of all she was doing using his body – but unable to prevent anything.

He did not find peace – only lost himself.

However, she always responded when Raoul called for her. It didn't cost her anything really – she could do it at any moment, not being distracted, not interrupting a conversation – and from the outside her – his – face seemed just as undisturbed, brows slightly raised in mockery.

She mastered him better than Raoul had ever mastered himself.

"What troubles you so much, my boy? Am I doing something wrong?"

Even now, when it seemed he really had nothing to lose – and when she already knew all his thoughts, he still could not give an honest answer. And she was aware of that fact, she was reveling in his indecisiveness.

"I don't inflict any harm on your body. Quite the contrary – I take care of it. I'm fond of it – it is beautiful. And I like being part of it. I never have imagined it could bring so much pleasure."

He knew it was true – she derived pleasure out of every minute of her freedom. And to expect that she will abandon it all to return back to the cage of virtual reality was ludicrous.

"Don't you feel exactly what I feel? This joy of being able to touch both body and mind of your subjects? I grant you a possibility to experience it."

True. But maybe it would've been easier for him if she didn't share these sensations with him, if she buried his conscience within her own for good. Then he would simply no longer be. There wouldn't be any hope to return. There wouldn't be those moments when her control slipped all of a sudden, like a glove – and Raoul found himself on the surface, alone and confused.

These moments were very short-lived, of course – usually one or two seconds, not more – but it were them that reminded him he still existed.

"Where does this bitterness come from, my Raoul?"

Through her eyes he saw his own reflection in the mirror – calm, perfectly sculptured face – streaming golden hair – glimmering silk of clothes. In her eyes he could see a slight hint of pleasure. She liked what she was looking at.

"I am tired."

Raoul's expression in the mirror didn't change.

"Tired? My poor boy."

Julius covered her shoulders with a coat. Thin fingers of the furniture fastened the clasp. But no, Julius was no longer a furniture – at some point Jupiter had decided that he was smart enough for more complex tasks.

For an instant Jupiter's presence was gone – and Raoul felt the warmth of Julius' hands through the fabric. The boy lifted his gaze – met Raoul's eyes. In Julius' eyes there was disgust mixed with anguish.

Don't think so loudly, Raoul wanted to ask him, she doesn't forgive such things – but Jupiter's control was back.

"Perfect," she said audibly. "We have a lot to do today."

He wanted to cover his face with his hands, wanted to curl up and not see, not hear anybody – but instead he made his way to the car; Julius quietly followed suit.

"I can't take it anymore, Jupiter."

He didn't expect her to understand. What he deemed unbearable, she thought acceptable – even pleasant. She had no problem living with those memories.

But how was he to live with what he had done?

Burnt down Ceres. Dark streets and houses. Leon's screams when she was tearing his conscience to pieces – and his sobbing when Jupiter's hand – Raoul's hand – was stroking his hair as blood was slowly trickling out of Leon's ears.

Leon was dead; as well as all the other conspirators. Jupiter didn't want to resolve to mere correction, effects of which could be mitigated. However, for them death was more of a relief.

Raoul didn't want to think about it. But what else was he left to do?

All of this was payment for his decision made in the moment of anger – when he was ready to destroy the whole world to revenge for the pain he was caused. Well, he came close to that – destroyed the whole world.

Maybe it was for the better that Jupiter wasn't letting him go. He would've hardly been able to live on his own after all of this.

"I don't want to hurt you, my child," this time her voice wasn't filled with mockery – it was almost pleading. "I don't want you to suffer."

"We are going to Kibela," she lightly touched the driver's shoulder. The car took a turning to one of the side streets. "It won't take long, my Raoul."

The car stopped at the tall building with mirror-like windows. Kibela was a district for offices and enterprises – and this building looked just like any other here.

"I planned it as surprise for you. But I won't torture you."

She motioned to Julius:

"Wait in the car."

The building was guarded. Second level of security – androids, lasers, identification ports. First level still applied only to the residence of Jupiter herself... And Raoul didn't even know anything that could possibly be happening here.

A grey-haired man with a young face bowed to her.

"Senator Jupiter."

"How is the subject?"

"Everything is in order. Please, follow me, sir."

The only source of light in the room was coming from a large screen that occupied an entire wall and was showing slowly swirling multicolored patterns. On the floor, hugging his knees, there was a person – a teenager. His shoulder length hair was silvery white.

Iason? A surge of blinding pain pierced Raoul's mind, it reached him even in the depth of his isolation. He recognized these features, these light eyes. It was Iason – a young boy – as Raoul remembered him at school – but it was him, no mistaking it.

Iason's eyes unblinkingly stared at the lit screen. He didn't even turn his head.

"Oh my God..."

"Yes, my Raoul, yes. It is his clone. The works started long ago – already two years ago."

He couldn't say a thing because of the shock – was hopelessly trying to find the words – and couldn't turn away from the boy sitting before the screen.

Iason was alive – Jupiter saved him! But...

"Two years?"

"Yes, that's correct. Don't be surprised – while my Iason was still alive. Watching him making mistake after mistake I knew that sooner or later I was going to lose him. So I secured myself. The clone is being brought up to the required age in an accelerated method – but he is still not mature enough. One more year, maybe less – and then... you just have to wait a little."

"I loved my Iason so very much," she admitted sadly. She stepped up to the boy, touched his hair – and for a moment Raoul could distinctly feel the silk of the light strands under his fingertips.

Iason's beautiful face stayed undisturbed, his eyes didn't leave the screen.

"What's wrong with him? Why is he like that?"

"His brain activity is suppressed."

"What?!"

"Use your head, Raoul. Why would he need a mind of his own if all he is to become is a vessel for my conscience? I myself will become the soul of this gorgeous body."

It couldn't be... she could not have done this to Iason, had no right to... His mind refused to accept this.

"And then I will let you go, Raoul. I will move into this body – and you will be free. My Iason... I always considered him the most perfect of all my children."

Her hand clasped Iason's hair, tilting his head back – and her lips covered his mouth, the tongue slid inside. Through the prism of her feelings Raoul felt the warmth and compliance of the half open mouth... what a blessing that she didn't stop controlling him, that he couldn't feel it for real...

Iason's eyes stayed open. When Jupiter let go of him, he turned back towards the screen.

"But he is there, inside..."

"Now it's just a shell, Raoul – nothing more. But I understand, my boy – you're afraid that when I have Iason I will love you less?" Her voice became lenient, soft. "Of course not, silly. When I will be Iason you will still be with me. You're the most gorgeous of all blondies after Iason. You are my most faithful son. You will be my consort, Raoul – forever."

---

He had no desire to wake up – he shut his eyes tighter in an attempt to lure the vanishing dream back. But he knew it was pointless. Slowly he raised his eyelids. The ceiling above him was covered in soot marks – the sight he was supposed to be getting used to after all these days, but it still evoked nausea in him.

The smell... don't think about the smell... Sliver clenched his fists so tight that the nails dug into his palms. It helped. What was before his eyes was just a soot covered ceiling. The fire has gone out long ago.

The window had no glass in it – the gap was shielded with a piece of plywood and the flickering morning light was pouring inside through the holes in it. The wind coming from those holes was cold enough to make Sliver pull the blanket up till his nose.

Oh why, why did he have to wake up so early? Nothing could be done about it though – as soon as he tried to close his eyes, they snapped back open, like they had springs in them.

The only sound filling the room was Hinley's regular, soft snoring. He was lying in his usual position – on his back, spread-eagled; for some reason he was never cold. His braid was undone, hair scattering all over the pillow. His throat shuddered and rumbled with every breath.

Quietly Sliver moved up to him, laid his head on the outstretched arm. Hinley reeked of cheap cigarettes and musk – and Sliver could still feel this scent on his own body. This smell seemed to muffle that other smell, the one Sliver was so very afraid of sensing.

And it was warm beside Hinley.

Sliver sighed, rubbed his cheek against Hinley's hand. Hinley was strong and kind – why did Sliver never notice it before? Hinley didn't abandon Sliver, didn't chase him away – he stayed with him when all the others...

Hinley's breathing faltered, and the snoring hitched. Sliver saw his eyelids tremble, but they didn't open. Hinley's hand found Sliver's head by touch.

Sliver didn't need to be told what to do. He slid under the blanket, liking his lips hastily. Hinley's cock was not yet fully erect, but when Sliver took it into his mouth and tongued the slit in its head, it hardened completely at once. Sliver traced the entire length of it with his tongue, along the slightly budging vein underneath, and smiled contentedly at Hinley's hoarse moan.

The taste was bitter – no wonder, Hinley hasn't washed after yesterday's – but Sliver did not mind. After all it was his own taste. And in a few seconds, when Sliver started to work with his mouth in earnest, the bitterness disappeared at all.

Here, under the blanket, it was even hot – and the musk smell emitting form Hinley's groin was stunningly intense. Sliver felt Hinley's hand cover his head, pressing – and leaned closer, letting Hinley's cock slip into his throat. Hinley didn't need to guide him – he took it as deep, and worked as fast as he could of his own accord.

At last the fingers in his hair clenched and bitterly salty spurts flooded his mouth.

He wasn't used to this taste – he always did it with a condom on. But surely he couldn't catch anything bad from Hinley, so there was no need for a condom. His throat contracted involuntarily with a wave of nausea, but Sliver suppressed the urge forcefully and swallowed everything that was offered.

When he emerged from under the blanket Hinley was grinning.

"That's the way to wake me up, little one – no doubts there are many who dream of this."

He ruffled Sliver's hair and Sliver gratefully nuzzled his palm.

There were times when listening to Hinley's compliments to his mother he thought it were just words that didn't mean anything. Back then he had no idea how pleasant it can be – to hear those words directed at you – even if you know you did not deserve it.

He got out of bed and signed to the man that he's now going to make breakfast. Hinley nodded, lying back on the pillows.

The house they currently lived in was harmed by the fire only partially – but for some reason its owners never returned here. Maybe they were dead. At any rate no one minded when they moved into this flat – and no one bothered them ever since.

The kitchen had suffered from fire most of all, but Hinley brought a gas stove from somewhere, and now Sliver was putting a kettle and a pot with two eggs in it on the said stove. The food was also found in the abandoned flat, which came very handy since both supermarkets in Ceres were still closed.

The stove had only two burners, so he had to wait for the kettle to boil before he could replace it with a frying pan to make toasts. For an instant, when the oil started sizzling and smelling, he froze as if switched off.

No, of course this smell is different – not in the least alike... Nothing was burning... Put in the bread quickly, if you want everything to be ready in time.

Over the past weeks something like this was happening to him more and more seldom. Perhaps, he was starting to calm down a bit, or so he wished to think at least. Maybe one day he will be able to forget it at all.

If he lives long enough.

He was not supposed to stay alive in the first place. If not for that envelope filled with money, which they received that day – a thick envelope without a single note attached.

Sliver recalled how his mother poured out the credits onto the bed – and recounted them, her fingers were trembling slightly, and her face was that of a young girl – something he hadn't seen for a very long time.

"Are you sure it's for us?" She was saying. "No one will take it away?"

"It is definitely for us."

Sliver knew who the money came from. Well, it wasn't hard to guess – even if no note was attached to it – even if there was no explanation for it.

His mother, eyes shining, was going on about how now Sliver wouldn't need to work, that this money would be enough for a long time if they economize. And they will economize – and then Sliver will grow up and be admitted into some gang...

And maybe... she stumbled there, crossing her fingers and whispering that, of course, she didn't mean to say anything... but all these beautiful things from expensive shops that a man from Tanagura bought for her Romi – and now there were this money... so maybe...

But Sliver realized right away what this money meant – that there will be no continuation. He didn't know why – but he knew that he'll never see Katze again. This money meant it was over.

To keep a smile on while listening to his mother's rapid speech was hardly bearable – but he managed to suffer through it for the whole day. And in the evening he rushed out of the house under a false pretence, saying he needed to drop by his former work place to give back a trinket.

The windows of the apartment were dark – but it didn't surprise Sliver. He suspected that much – yet he had to make sure. He went up and continued to press the buzzer for a long time, even though he felt that there was no one behind that door.

Maybe Katze will return later? Sliver kept stubbornly telling himself that Katze could've gone out somewhere, to a club or a restaurant – he didn't need to sit at home all the time. Sliding to the floor, Sliver leaned his back on the door and waited.

He didn't notice how he fell asleep, but when he opened his eyes it seemed like it was late in the night already. And Katze was not back – he couldn't have gone past Sliver unnoticed. And this thought seemed to make Sliver finally realize how foolish his behavior really was. He got up and went out into the street.

He realized at once that he missed something very important – he saw the lights gone out and heard the wail of sirens. But only half-way through did he realize that the glow he saw at the horizon was not some natural phenomena, but a fire.

He ran most of the way – but even then he didn't believe that what was happening could affect him in some way. The fact that the houses were burning was horrible – but it was certainly not happening in any vicinity of his house – in some other part of the town.

And then he saw his own house – the beams were crumbling down into the roaring flame. He still thought that his mother and Tommy must've managed to escape – they had made it for sure. He was bumping into the crowd like a blind kitten, trying to find them. And then a hand was put on his shoulder, turning him around – and he saw a mournful face of Hinley, covered in sweat and soot.

"Yes," Hinley said sadly. "That's how we lost them."

He pulled Sliver close to him, despite the resistance – and at that moment Sliver realized for the first time what kind of smell it was he was feeling constantly ever since entering Ceres. Coals and burning plastic, of course – and even stronger was another smell, a sweet and heavy one.

He fought Hinley's arms, trying to free himself, to say that it can't be, it was a lie. But when he lifted his head to look Hinley in the face and opened his mouth he found himself unable to utter a single sound.

His voice didn't return to him ever since that moment – but Sliver wasn't too much upset with the fact. He had no reason to talk.

Breakfast was ready. He laid eggs and toasts out on the plates, put them on the tray and carried it to the room.

"Thanks, little one," Hinley graced him with a smile, then sat up, rubbing his palms together with anticipation. Sliver perched himself on the edge of the bed, watching him eat. "You're amazing," Hinley mumbled with his mouth full. "Oh, you could go shower in the mean time, ok?"

There was no hot water, so Sliver stood under cold jets with his teeth clattering. He could bear it for a few minutes only, so he tried to wash himself with maximum speed. When he got back to the room Hinley had already finished breakfast, put on his clothes and was getting ready to go out somewhere.

Sliver grabbed him by the arm desperately, looking him in the eye – and his gaze must've been expressive enough for Hinley to understand.

"Yes, I need to go," he smiled placatingly. "No, you can't come with me. But I'll be back soon. Don't worry, I won't leave you. Do you trust me?"

Sliver nodded. He had to trust Hinley – he had no one else to trust.

"That's a good boy," Hinley's wide palm covered his hands, lingering a bit. "And while I'm away you go practice with this."

A heavy gun of dark shiny metal was thrown into Sliver's lap. He clasped it in his hands, feeling the cool steel warming up. Hinley left.

As if hypnotized, following the instruction even when Hinley was not around, he lifted the gun. By now he was almost used to the weight of it, to the feel of it. On the opposite wall there was a silhouette drawn with soot – and the breaks were covered in holes from multiple shots.

Feel the gun as a continuation of your own hands. Don't aim – just direct it. Gently release the trigger.

A light swish and a click of impact – and one more hole graced the left side on the silhouette's chest. He didn't miss lately.

Aim at the head, Hinley told him, then it'll be for certain. But Sliver wanted to hit exactly in the heart.

You'll have time only for one shot. Even if you miss, just run away.

Sliver wasn't going to run. He will shoot until he succeeds. Or until they kill him. And it's most likely that he'll be killed – and then it will all be over.

Because it is not a human after all – it's a computer, it has a lightning fast reaction.

Doesn't matter. He'll still succeed.

The silhouette on the wall was very sketchy – but, closing his eyes, Sliver thought he could make out a sheet of golden hair streaming down a blue silken coat – an arrogantly beautiful face with pursed delicately pink lips.

Another swish and a click. A new hole – almost at the same place as the previous one.

If you feel the game is up, do try not to surrender alive, alright? Hinley's fingers were combing through his hair. On the second thought, you won't be able to tell them anything anyway...

Sliver knew they won't be able to get anything out of him – he knew it as surely as his own name.

He hugged the gun, pressing it to his chest, and curled up on the bed over the blanket. With a gun he didn't feel cold as well.

He will be able to revenge. For his mother, for Tommy, for all the others. A Computer or a blondie – he didn't care; he knew who was to blame for his family's death.

The surroundings blurred – this was happening to him lately – and when he came round Hinley was already back, he was standing there looking at him and smiling. He had some long case in his hands.

"I'm glad you like this gun so much – but be careful, don't send a bullet through your own leg. Today is a special day, little one. The waiting has ended. You'll be able to do it."

---

In the descending twilight the TV screen was casting white patches of light on the carpet and on his face. Katze glanced at the dead cigarette in his hand and dropped it on the floor. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to do anything at all for that matter – perhaps he should just lay with his eyes and ears covered – like those monkeys that were standing on his table. To be honest, that is exactly how he tried to live all his life – and look where it got him.

Pain shot through him, physically tangible and so intense, that it made him squirm. But he didn't make a sound; he deserved this pain – and had no right to complain. But still... it was hardly bearable – his hand reached out for the pack once more, this time to pick out one certain cigarette for sure. Then everything will be alright. Then there will be nothing anymore.

His fingers wavered, but he didn't let himself touch the cigarettes. There was one more thing left to do – one thing just as bitter as looking at the shambles of Ceres. He had to see it in full, in all detail, what exactly he had done.

And maybe he wanted to see it.

Once again there were news on the screen – the meeting with Terra delegation was successful, and a dinner was to be held in one of the elite clubs in Eos... Several men with reserved expressions appeared on the screen – representatives of Terra. The camera rested just briefly on them, as if something was drawing its attention away...

A beautiful face framed with waves of golden hair, pink lips parted in a light smile.

Senator Jupiter was perfect – in real life and on the screen.

Katze had to make sure it was just her – that nothing of Raoul was left in her. He had to see him... her... doesn't matter – he had to. Even if for just one more time.

And he well knew which of the elite clubs Iason usually chose to dine in with his high standing associates. It was not likely that Raoul would break the old habit... and not likely that Jupiter had fallen into new ones.

He stood up, picked up the cigarettes from the floor, and threw them on the table. He will finish up everything when he returns. Then all the obligations will be fulfilled.

Taxi took him to Eos. He dismissed it a couple of blocks away from his destination and went on foot. Of course... his assumption turned out to be right. Outside the club there already were androids lined up, blocking the way.

Needless to say, Katze wasn't the only curious onlooker there – and though androids were directing people to pass by, a small crowd still remained. But it was for his advantage – he won't be attracting unnecessary attrition.

Hands shoved in the pockets, Katze stood amidst the people, waiting. The crowd was decent, quite presentable – well, not that other kind of people showed up in this district – and they spoke in low voices, with dignity.

"Is it true what they say, that senator Jupiter takes a stroll every now and then along the streets of Tanagura, completely unguarded – just to talk to people? Well, kind of like, you know, blondies – they are all alike – one can't always tell if it's him or not."

"It's true – only it's not him, it's her."

"Yes, it's just that I can't get used to it – with this appearance..."

"Well, you have to..."

"And is that right that Ceres will be leveled to the ground soon – and the land for construction there will be sold for nine credits per square meter?"

"Oh, better be soon..."

"They're coming!" someone's voice sounded over all the murmuring. Almost soundlessly, three long vehicles drove up to the club building.

Unconsciously Katze took a step forward. He remembered suddenly how once on the cold street Raoul had called out for him from the car – back then in front of the police station – how fair strands of hair shone in dim yellow lights of the street lamps...

Back then he had everything ahead of him – all this longing, dizzying tenderness that he felt for Raoul – their intimacy... It will never return again. For once in his whole life he has had something worth remembering – and he destroyed it with his own hands... destroying Raoul along with it.

He was pushed – he stepped back, letting the person through – a skinny boy in a short jacket, with his hands in pockets. Blue-black hair was falling over a thin neck. Immediately Katze recognized him.

It can't be. Sliver?

The joy overwhelmed him combined with fear – what if he's mistaken, taken the desired for reality? How many boys like this, in tight fitting pants and with fiercely independent air about them were roaming the streets of Tanagura? Katze wanted to call after him, to make sure – and at this very moment the doors of the cars opened.

However, not likely somebody noticed the others. Beside a blondie common people always seemed unnoticeable – grey. Beside senator Jupiter, when she wanted to be noticed – the contrast was even more striking.

The pain returned once more – from recognition, because Raoul was so close, just a few steps away – and because Katze knew it was not Raoul. She... her eyes – bright blue even under the lights of street lamps – scanned the crowd – and came to a halt on him.

No, not her. Raoul! It must've been an illusion – but for an instant it seemed to Katze that it was Raoul looking at him – the real Raoul – and that he recognized Katze.

What happened next... probably it happened in a flash – and Katze wondered afterwards how he could've managed to remember so many details. As if the time stopped for him.

He saw the boy – Sliver – take out something from under his jacket – and before he even raised that object in his outstretched arms, Katze knew it was a gun.

Fool, what the hell are you doing?! Katze knew what was about to happen – a moment before the shot would be heard, the white protective shield would flash – repelling the bullet, sending it back at the shooter. The boy would be killed – in a blink.

Katze put out a hand in an attempt to hinder Sliver – but his moves were also slow – he knew he wouldn't make it. He saw Jupiter's smiling face, knew that she saw the gun directed at her – and she was not frightened. It was giving her pleasure.

The shield did not flash. Instead of it Jupiter stretched out a hand and put a fragile figure in grey uniform in front of herself. There was a hiss – the person jerked like a marionette and a hole of flash burnt through appeared on his chest.

It was not Sliver who did that, a thought flashed through Katze's mind – it wasn't a gun shot, it was plasma rifle... Meanwhile the androids had already lined up, shielding Jupiter and the others, pointing their weapons at the crowd.

Katze finally managed to reach Sliver's shoulder, pulled him towards himself. The gun fell out of boy's hands. Katze tore off his own jacket, wrapped it around Sliver and started dragging him out of the crowd.

He knew he wouldn't make it, that in a second the androids will shoot down everyone who was there – they will sort out who's guilty and who's not later.

"Don't shoot!" Somebody cried out nearby – and then – another voice, a voice he recognized:

"Don't shoot."

A few moments of commotion were enough for Katze to get out of the crowd, and dive in the dimly lit side street. Wrapped up in a jacket, the boy in his arms was blindly fighting to break free.

He didn't have time to talk. He uncovered Sliver's head and slapped him across the face twice – so strongly that the boy's head swung sideways. Sliver ceased resisting, became obedient and supple.

"Be quiet," Katze instructed.

Out of the side alley the way led into a busy street – Katze knew it – like he knew such ways in most of Tanagura, explored them due to his work. In several minutes the area will be surrounded. But they could still make it.

He flagged a taxi, dragged Sliver into the back seat. The driver cast them a curious glance.

"Got yourself a boy?"

"Yeah, well," Katze shoved Sliver flat onto the seat, bent over him and covered his mouth with his own.

Even if he'll have to imitate lust throughout all the way to the house – as long as the driver didn't see Sliver's face – he was fine with it. Because in half an hour Sliver's pictures would be all over the city.

Sliver's mouth opened softly and submissively, letting his tongue through. But Katze was not going to really kiss him. Their faces were brought together so closely that Sliver's open eyes seemed wide and unbearably black. Katze stroked his hair gently.

To their advantage the radio inside the car was turned off – they arrived safely. Katze stopped the car well before his house, paid the driver. From here on they will go on foot.

He was still holding Sliver's hand in his own – squeezing it so hard that it must've been hurting the boy – but Sliver did not make a sound. He was walking beside Katze, quiet and all like... like he still could not comprehend what has happened.

They were lucky – did not encounter anyone on the way. Katze pushed Sliver inside the apartment and locked the door behind them.

On the way here he thought that once they reach home, he will give Sliver a piece of his mind about his actions. But now, looking at the petrified boy staring at the floor, he could not make himself utter a single word. And what was there to say anyway? Give him an earful and make him promise to not do this ever again? It was not some insignificant offence that could be redeemed by a reprimand. He tried to shoot Jupiter – and thus signed his own death-warrant. They will not stop until they catch him.

Feeling something in him break, Katze embraced those slender shoulders and pressed the boy close to himself.

For several moments Sliver's hands were still hanging limp along his body – and then suddenly they flew up, hugged Katze convulsively tight – and Katze felt the boy start to shake violently.

Sliver was not just hugging him – he was clutching onto him, with jerky fingers, as if wanting to make sure that Katze was real. He was shivering so hard that his teeth were chattering, he was trying to press his face even deeper into Katze's jacket.

Continuing to stroke his shoulders, Katze squatted before him, trying to look him in the face. Sliver's eyes were dry and unbearably fervent – and Katze nearly staggered back, so much was he shocked by what he saw in that gaze: as if seeing Katze was at the same time giving him agony and joy.

"Oh, what have you done..." Katze whispered, touching his hair. Sliver winced and shook his head as if in pain.

Why, Katze was about to ask – but he knew the answer, he had seen the burnt out Ceres. Only Sliver didn't know that the one responsible for all of that was now in front of him.

God, but Sliver didn't even shoot! Someone just used him as a cover, to distract attention – someone with a plasma rifle...

Sliver continued to stare intensely at him – and then his lips parted and he whispered something – but Katze did not hear a sound.

"What?"

Sliver looked guilty – his lips tried to utter something again.

"You can't speak? Wait, open your mouth!" Katze panicked, he was afraid that the ones who gave Sliver the gun, could have cut off his tongue, so that he wouldn't give them out. But the tongue was there. "It happened just now? Or some time ago?"

Sliver shook his head, then nodded. Katze couldn't hold back, he once again drew the boy close against himself. He never would've though that he will be so glad to hold this fragile body in his arms, will want to never let Sliver go from himself. Sliver's hot cheek pressed into his shoulder.

"And just what are we gonna do now?" Katze murmured.

He felt Sliver wince again, the boy broke free from his embrace. He tried to say something, then gave up, found a piece of paper on Katze's table and started to write something. The letters came out askew, crumbled together.

I didn't mean to – I wanted to kill her – not that other person...

Katze lifted his gaze from the paper. Sliver looked bitterly at him, shook his head.

"But you didn't even have time to shoot?" Katze said. Sliver flinched – and his eyes became wide and amazed – as if he didn't even think about it before. "You didn't shoot."

Sliver gasped surprised – looked at his hands – and then nodded. There was a question in his eyes.

"You didn't kill him," Katze stated. Suddenly, as if seeing it on a photograph, he remembered the swirl of light-brown strands of hair of the man that Jupiter put in front of herself – and realized that he recognized him. "All the same, they are still looking for you. You tried to kill Jupiter – it's enough for them to..."

Shut up, what are you scaring him for... But Sliver's gaze did not appear scared, just somewhat submissive. And what's the reason to scare him – it was reality – the fact that he was doomed.

Sliver nodded, as if confirming, that he had understood what was left unsaid as well – then freed himself from Katze's grip and headed for the door.

"Hold it!" Katze caught him. Sliver's serious gaze spoke louder than words. He spread his arms a bit as if saying – what else is there to do? "You're not going anywhere."

Once again a piece of paper and stumbling words.

Then they will kill you as well.

"And this you will leave to me to deal with," Katze said sternly.

He got up, led Sliver to the couch and pressed him down by the shoulder.

"Sit here."

He didn't turn on the TV – it would've been the easiest way to get updates on the situation, but he suspected that if Sliver saw what was going on there, it could ruin this shaky balance. So he turned on his computer instead – the Net had the same information.

Oh no... everything was just as he had imagined. Sliver's face – a snapshot so very clear, that it was impossible not to recognize him – and even the gun in his outstretched arms...

Five hundred thousands credits for information that would lead to the capture of the suspect. Well, no one would dare say that Jupiter underestimated herself. However the usual addition of 'wanted dead or alive' was missing. Katze did not know if it was actually good or not. Perhaps, to fall into Jupiter's arms alive was much worse.

Wherever Sliver would go he would be recognized. And five hundred thousands was a sum enough to tempt anybody. Katze didn't even hope that he'd be able to bribe someone, to smuggle Sliver secretly out of here.

There was not a chance. And it was only a question of time before the taxi driver would be found – and he would describe Katze – and the search of the surrounding area would start...

Fuck... God damn it! He swept off of the table everything that was there – the calendar, the figurine – the monkeys fell on the floor and broke to pieces. On the couch Sliver winced, looking at him with shocked, frightened eyes.

Katze sighed.

"Sorry. It's nothing..."

It's nothing... it's just that I'm desperate, it's just that I can't save you – it's just that my life is so worthless that even by sacrificing it I wouldn't be able to protect you... it's just that it is all my fault.

He could've deleted Sliver's photos from the Net – or replace them with the others. But what could be done about TV... he could do nothing.

But what if... No, of course not, it was just a thought imposed by desperation... His mind was catching at a straw – thinner than a straw – a wisp of smoke, a phantom. What if... Back then, for an instant, it were Raoul's eyes looking at him.

What if Raoul is still there – together with Jupiter? What if it will be possible to reach him – to break through to him?

It still wouldn't've changed anything – Raoul hated him, had every right to hate him.

But what if Katze would offer him a chance for revenge – in exchange for Sliver? The boy really was free of any wrongdoing, what's the reason to punish him? Raoul must understand this.

He refused to proceed with this train of thought – refused to acknowledge that Raoul – or Jupiter – could have both – Katze and Sliver. He needed to do something – he couldn't just sit around and wait.

He stood up. Sliver looked at him from below, his gaze desperate.

"I will try to think something up," Katze told him. "Stay here."

Thin, ice cold fingers clutched at his hand painfully. Sliver was shaking his head fiercely, as if trying to outweigh coherent words with that act.

"Please," Katze pried his hands away with difficulty. "Believe me. I will do everything I can."

If it won't work out... then so be it.

Sliver's look revealed such grief, that it frightened Katze. And just what if, when he's gone, the boy would harm himself somehow? One could expect something like that from Sliver.

"Promise me," he insisted. "Promise that you'll wait for me."

He waited, not breaking the eye contact – and finally Sliver nodded.

"Remember, you promised," Katze said. "I will be back soon."

---

"How could you?!"

"And what was I supposed to do? I was protecting myself."

"Why didn't you use a shield?"

"The energy supply on Amoi is still limited. The amount needed for the shield would've been too much."

His anger was so intense – like a wave – that it seemed to him that it should've reached her, influenced her. But Raoul was powerless. Jupiter's voice, resounding in his mind, didn't waver, didn't change its tone.

"You killed him."

"I can't believe it, you're accusing me because of some... furniture."

Julius was not just a furniture... but how could he question the appropriateness of her words? He even should've shared her point of view – that furniture's life was worth less than the energy expanses for the shield. Only that somehow he could not think like that.

Somehow both anguish and rage that were overwhelming him could be perceived almost physically. Even now he didn't cease seeing, feeling how Julius' body went limp in front of him, the fabric of his clothes molded into dark gaping wounds.

Raoul groaned. But Jupiter possessing his body didn't even as much as blink, she continued conversing with the Terra delegation just as pleasantly, apologizing for a disrupted dinner.

"Let me go!"

"What for, my boy?"

"I want to see him."

"It's too late now – he's already dead."

"No, he's still alive."

Julius was alive when he was taken away by an ambulance – but even the medics realized that it was pointless.

"Stop it, Raoul," irritation entered her voice for the first time. "We have obligations that we need to fulfill."

"I want to see him," he pressed stubbornly.

She didn't answer – and for a moment it seemed that she won't answer at all, ever, will ignore him until he himself would no longer be aware of his own existence. The anger that this though produced surprised even him. He will not let her...

"And what are you going to do to stop me, Raoul?" she enquired almost softly. "And, by the way, why did you order the androids not to shoot at that time?"

For a split second he slipped from under her control – to give that order. It means, she didn't understand why he did it? Maybe she didn't even know what exactly he saw... Could it be that during those short periods of time she didn't have power over him?

Raoul hurried to cut this thought short.

"There were not mongrels in that crowd, but rightful citizens of Tanagura. I didn't want you to lose a couple of dozens of your subjects."

"A praiseworthy intention," he couldn't tell if she caught the lie or not. "Well, if you so wish to take a look at your furniture, I'll grant you this."

He didn't expect her to agree; and that's precisely why she did it, Raoul thought.

He observed Jupiter bid farewell to Terra delegation, get in the car and give order to the driver.

"And you will let me talk to him. Me as myself."

"Can't say no to you, my boy. Do as you please."

Her tone almost deceived him – when she added, same lightness in her voice:

"Of course, you do realize that if it was any other blondie displaying such attachment to a furniture, they would've been immediately sent for correction? You are a different matter, Raoul... at least as long as we are together."

He understood what she meant. But a prospect of correction – later, when she will let him go – was so distant. It could not scare him.

Androids were swarming around Jupiter as she entered the clinic – in case there was another assassination attempt. Medics and nurses froze in shock for a moment upon seeing her, but then continued their running about with double energy.

"How is my secretary?"

The doctor's long face became even more sorrowful.

"Unfortunately... you do understand, such injury... we do all we can..."

"Is he dead?"

She would like it to be over already, right, Raoul thought sarcastically.

"Not yet, but..."

"Jupiter, you promised."

"Take me to him."

Raoul realized that it was him who said the words – that her presence was no longer weighing upon him. For the first time in all those month he was alone and free for a considerable amount of time. She was gone – he almost couldn't feel her.

All sensations seemed so new – even the air that entered his lungs, even the pungent odor of the hospital. He followed the doctor.

There were several people hunched over Julius – Raoul didn't know whatever they were trying to achieve, when nothing could be done about it – and motioned to by the doctor they left without protest. Raoul looked around – under his gaze the doctor stepped away and left the room as well, closing the door behind him.

Julius was lying on the high table, covered till mid-chest with a sheet. There was a tube inserted into his mouth – and in the silence of the room the sound of the machine attached to his body seemed unbearably loud. There was another sound – and in an instant Raoul realized that is was the air leaving Julius' half-burnt lungs through the wounds on his chest.

There were other machines attached to his body – apparently they were really trying to save him. But of course, he was a man of Jupiter's entourage – even if he was a furniture... and even if it was her who killed him.

With his hair stroked back, his face appeared almost childlike – and was so pale that it seemed made of wax. As if he was already dead...

Raoul couldn't imagine... couldn't imagine that it will turn out this way.

He reached out and touched Julius' brow. The skin was warm and slightly damp – and his hair was also a bit damp. Raoul stroked it with his fingers.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

He never could've imagined he would be asking his furniture for forgiveness – asking that of Julius, the mousy grey boy, whom he had once chosen exactly because he was so inconspicuous – so ordinary. He never could've imagined he would feel such anguish – such loneliness...

Julius was the last one left who believed in him – the last one left who remembered him – as Raoul, and not as senator Jupiter... maybe that was exactly what Jupiter couldn't forgive him for.

And now Julius will be gone too.

Julius' fair eyelashes trembled suddenly, lifted up – and his gaze opened up to Raoul. He had dark-green eyes – green like water; Raoul never noticed it before.

He drew back his hand, not wanting to scare Julius – what would it feel like for him to be touched by the one who killed him – but in Julius' eyes there was no fear, but just this great, incredible joy.

The tube moved as Julius tried to shift it with his tongue. Raoul was about to stop him, but was too late. The words came out muffled but Raoul understood nonetheless.

"It is you? It is really you?"

"Yes," he lowered his head, unable to handle this desperate joy.

"She let you go? For good?"

"No, just for a while."

"Ah," the joy subsided a bit. "But still... maybe later she will let you go."

"You shouldn't be talking," he said that and immediately realized that it wouldn't really change anything.

"It's ok," Julius whispered, "it's alright now."

His eyes were looking at Raoul hungrily, unwaveringly – as if he was trying to catch up for all those times he had to cast down his eyes when being around Raoul. As if he was trying to absorb as much as possible to last him till the end of his life... which was exactly what it was.

"Forgive me," Raoul repeated once more, "if you can."

But how could he expect forgiveness? This boy didn't have anything except for his own life – and this Raoul took from him as well, meaninglessly, cheaply.

"Don't..." Julius shook his head; his eyes were pleading. "It's good... that she did this... I wanted myself... but wouldn't have made it on time."

Raoul couldn't answer anything – didn't know what to say – and it seemed even if he would find the words, he wouldn't be able to say them.

Suddenly Julius lifted his hand and reached out for him. His gaze grew concentrated – inquiring – as if he expected Raoul to reject him, to withdraw from him. Perhaps it would've been so in the past. There was time when Julius just wouldn't have dared to touch him.

But now, Raoul realized, he had nothing to be afraid of.

Julius' cold fingers encircled his hand – and his eyes became surprised and happy, as if he still could not believe it... as if all he needed – was to hold Raoul's hand in his own like this.

No one ever wanted so little from Raoul... And out of shame, and because nothing could be done anymore to fix anything, blood roared in his ears. His fingers shivered – but Julius didn't seem to have noticed. He brought Raoul's hand to his cheek, pressed into it. He didn't try to talk anymore; his eyes were shining at Raoul. And then they started to fade – and Raoul realized it was over.

He was dead but the machine continued to pump oxygen. Carefully Raoul removed his fingers from Julius' grip and turned off the device. Silence that fell was deafening, unreal.

He traced his hand over Julius' face, closing his eyes. The tube was ruining the serenity of the face – but there were other people who would take care of that.

Raoul got up, carefully checking for Jupiter's presence inside. He knew that she was close – but was she looking, was she listening? How much time did he have till she comes back?

He looked around and saw medical instruments shining on the tray – took one of the scalpels and hid it inside the sleeve's cuff – he did all this trying not to think, not concentrate his thought process on what exactly he was doing.

He left the ward – and once again there were people around, once again bowing down before him. She really knew how to command respect, Jupiter...

One of his assistants pushed through to him.

"The portrait is ready, we will broadcast it on TV, the Net, placard the leaflets – everything that is necessary."

He was handed some paper; for an instant Raoul couldn't comprehend what was asked of him – then took a glance at it. On the photograph there was a black-haired boy holding a gun in his outstretched hands. Most likely the picture was taken by one of the androids – the quality was excellent.

"Judging by hair color he's a mongrel," the assistant stated.

But Julius was a mongrel too, right?

However, who would say that the boy didn't have a reason to wish for Jupiter's death?

"But the shot that killed your secretary was made from a plasma rifle, and not from a handgun," the doctor put in his word.

Right. There was somebody else there. Somebody who went unnoticed because of the commotion caused by the boy, somebody who slipped away.

The reappearance of Jupiter was so sudden that Raoul felt dizziness. One moment he was alone in his body – and the next one he was hearing already from the side as she was saying:

"Take the boy alive. We can get to others through him."

"These were the exact words I was about to say," he answered her.

"I know, my boy," it seemed she was smiling.

Please, please, don't let her suspect anything...

---

He was silent – kept his head down – until she got back to the car and headed home. And when they went in and she casually threw off her coat he didn't even remind her that there were no more Julius who could catch it. She'll have to look for another furniture, for another secretary.

He waited – while she was finishing the usual small daily errands. Today she was alone – and it was to his advantage. He knew the moment will come when her control slips, like it always happened. And then he'll do it – he'll be ready. He didn't have any doubts. Everything was this simple – he had to stop her. And if he won't succeed... If he won't succeed then the higher price he pays for his attempt the better. At least somewhere there peace must be awaiting him.

He just couldn't take it any longer, that's all.

The first time she lost her control over him just for an instant – too short to be able to do anything – and Raoul didn't try to. He knew he'd have only one chance – and he should use it wisely.

But then hours passed and nothing was happening – and he started to fear that she will decide to go to bed and will discover the scalpel when she undresses. But everything turned out even better than he had planned.

She was in the bathroom, was looking at herself in the mirror – the way she often spent her time, admiring her own face – and at this very moment Raoul felt her consciousness withdrawing, leaving him alone. He was seeing his reflection with his own eyes, knew that it was him standing here.

So he pulled the scalpel out of the cuff and quickly ran the blade across his face.

He managed to do this three times until she came back. He was shaken by the sheer force of her rage. The hand with the scalpel in it stopped dead within an inch from his face – and however hard he tried he couldn't do anything anymore.

For some time there was only silence. There was nothing more – no thoughts, no anger, not even pain. Through her eyes he watched the thin lines of cuts start to bleed, red trickles of blood run down the skin. Blood got into his eyes and he blinked.

There was no pain – well, maybe only a little. But the damage he caused was fatal. He was filled with triumph.

"Why... why did you do that?" her voice was quiet, bitter. She wasn't screaming in rage and agony like when she lost Iason – but he could feel her pain just as clearly.

The taut wire of triumph and hatred sang inside him. God, he really did hate her – hated her just as much as himself.

"So how do you like me this way? What was that you said – 'the most gorgeous of all blondies after Iason'? You still think so?"

"How can you be so cruel?" she said with reproach. But in the helplessness of these quiet words he felt foreboding.

And you? You took my life to pieces...

"You liked being in this body, didn't you?" He disregarded the warning, didn't want to stop. "You enjoyed posing for the cameras so much! What are you going to do now? Where will you place your mind – back into the closed room? It would still be better than living like this, right? You will freak everyone out. You will be the ugliest blondie of all!"

"And how will you like this?!" Now she screamed – screamed with all her might – and her shriek mixed with the inner outcry stunned him.

The scalpel was still in his hand – and Raoul felt his hand rising, the blade pressing into his eyelid.

This time the excruciating pain pierced through him and the blood gushed down in thick streams. The blood must've half blinded him – he could not see. His hand was clutching the scalped and was cutting again and again.

He wasn't screaming, didn't try to resist – let her do what she wants... He would accept anything if only it would all stop already. And it will stop, right?

There was so much blood that it got into his mouth and he began to cough. Vaguely he could see bright red streams run down the white sink. Then she let go of the scalpel.

Her hands were covered in blood – as if clothed in slick shiny gloves. She steadied herself against the edge of the sink and looked into the mirror – but Raoul didn't know what she saw in there. Everything seemed red to him – and his left eye... didn't see at all.

It seemed she was swaying a bit. Perhaps she too felt pain and weakness. But she controlled this body much better. She straightened herself and went into the room.

The phone... how did she manage to dial the number with these slippery hands, not looking at the numbers?

"Peter? Immediately bring in the subject. Yes, Raoul Am's apartment. And all the equipment."

She dropped the receiver, and Raoul heard her laughing, choking with blood.

"Well, I will only do it earlier than planned."

I will not answer you, he thought – but she reached his thoughts, touched him almost gently.

"Farewell, my Raoul. I hope that is exactly what you wanted."

They arrived surprisingly fast – four scientists and with them a tall fair-haired boy with vacant look in his eyes.

Three month earlier Raoul already went through this – wires, connected to his temples... only this time they had to work hard for it because of the gushing blood. And now he was being connected not to the machine, but to another human.

I hope she told the truth, was his last thought, and there really is no Iason in this body.

And then the pain came. Back then, three month ago, it was also torturous – but it couldn't be compared to what was happening now. That time she was protecting him. Now she was just tearing her consciousness out of his, not caring for what she left behind.

He couldn't hear anything besides his own screams, didn't see anything besides the scarlet veil clouding his eyes – and then it crumbled to tiny pieces as well – pieces of a puzzle, swept off the table by a careless hand. He ceased feeling, ceased understanding – he forgot who he was and what he has done. He simply didn't exist.

He didn't know that he was lying curled up on the carpet, face clasped in hands, and the slender boy with silver white hair was standing over him – and his eyes of light-blue ice were no longer empty. Delicate childlike hand entwined into his hair, grasped it, as if intending to turn Raoul's face up – but, apparently, decided not to.

"Fool."

The boy left the room before the trickle of blood reached his light leather shoes.

---

Most of the streets were cordoned off. For the first time over these last few months the streets of Tanagura were as brightly lit as before. The flashing lights seemed almost like decorative illumination and the roaring of helicopters over the heads could be heard at all times. But Katze used those streets that they failed to shut off due to lack of people – not streets even – back alleys. He didn't know if they knew about his involvement in all of this – but it was wiser not to risk it.

The way to Raoul's place took him one and a half hours – and all this time Katze refused to think about what would happen if everything goes wrong – if it was just his imagination and there is no Raoul in there – only Jupiter. Or if Raoul won't want to hear him out.

Perhaps it would've been the best revenge on his part.

Then Sliver is just going to die. Katze will die too – but it didn't matter to him – it was exactly what he was going to do anyways. The boy... he didn't deserve it.

And who did deserve it?

Out of the shadow of the narrow street he came out to the brightly lit building where Raoul lived. Apparently everything remained the same here – Jupiter liked using Raoul's things just as she liked using him.

He neared the building as much as he could while trying to stay in the dark. A distant, almost phantom feeling of pain came over him for a second. Once he was happy in this place – as happy as he never thought he could be. But it was all in the past now. He lost what was given to him.

Weird, there seemed to be no guard? However, in any case – Jupiter could stand up for herself – using whatever, the shield... or somebody else's body.

Jupiter... Raoul... he couldn't think of that creature that he saw today as Raoul – and still all his hopes where based on one thing only: that Raoul was still there... and that what Katze did was still hurting him.

He decided to take a risk – headed for the building – and suddenly he saw the lights go out in the windows. The darkness came at once – as if the building was the only source of light around. Katze froze. And then the doors opened – several people came out of there and went to the car that was parked by the house.

They were all ordinary people – already not young – except for one. This one was a blondie – he couldn't be mistaken for anything else even though his height exceeded those of the others just slightly. A boy...

The next moment Katze recognized him.

Of course Iason was older when Katze started working for him – but just a bit older – and this stance of his, this cold, perfect face under the veil of fair, almost white hair – all of this was unmistakable.

This was his owner – his master – just as beautiful as before... alive.

Katze made a dart forward, feeling his heart drop, skipping beats. The joy was so intoxicating, so sharp, that it made it hard to breathe – and it was impossible to think about anything else. Iason was back! Katze belonged to him, body and soul. And nothing else mattered.

The boy stopped, letting one of his people drape a coat over his shoulders. Purple-red shiny silk – a blindingly bright spot even in the dim light. For a moment he just stood there, as if taking in a chestful of the night air – and then placed wide iridescent shades over his eyes.

His face in those light frameless shades became even more familiar – distinctly Iason's face – and still it was exactly this instant that Katze realized it was not Iason. He froze on the very edge between shadow and light, a moment before he could've been spotted by the people by the car. He covered his mouth with a hand so that he wouldn't accidentally make a sound – wouldn't let out a moan of disappointment.

Katze couldn't comprehend how he realized it – maybe it was something in that gaze, in the crook of his mouth – or maybe he simply felt it... an instinct, a gut feeling? – same way he felt Raoul in her. Iason's body was just a shell. Inside there was her.

He watched her get into the car – delicately beautiful and seemingly so young and vulnerable – but he saw the others listening to her orders with lowered heads. The car rolled on.

Yes, go away, go away! Her proximity suddenly became unbearable to him – as if breathing the same air with her was impossible. To see her in Iason's face... there was something sacrilegious in it.

Katze felt such overwhelming weakness, he would've dropped to the floor had he not leaned against the wall. Cold sweat was streaming down his temples. He couldn't distinguish anymore whether it was the distant noise of the helicopters or the pulsing of blood in his ears he was hearing. He closed his eyes – and shuddered when his imagination once again threw the image of Iason's childlike face at him, his thin hands covered in gloves.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of this memory – and knowing that he wouldn't manage to.

Strange as it may seem, this thought reminded him about what he came here for – and instantly the realization hit him. If she was now in Iason's body... then what happened to Raoul?

His stomach clenched from an almost physical feeling of something irreparable. The house with dark windows seemed so quiet and empty. But it couldn't be... it wasn't what he thought it was!

Disappointment he felt when he realized it wasn't Iason in front of him was torturous. But this anguish – this fear – that he was feeling now, on his way to Raoul's house, imagining what he was going to find there – this feeling was stronger, more disruptive.

No one tried to stop Katze, there was nobody there when he entered the house – as if it was completely empty. But there must've been somebody – furniture, pets, servants at the very least! However, in his panic he lost the ability to control his actions – he was just bursting into rooms turning lights on, not really knowing what he was trying to find – maybe to make sure that Raoul wasn't there.

But Raoul was there – Katze found him in one of the rooms, on the floor – and froze, as if faced with an invisible obstacle. His brain refused to acknowledge – this couldn't be Raoul – his hair couldn't be so soaked with blood... he couldn't be lying like this – curled up into a ball, with his face covered with hands – and with blood trickling from in between fingers.

Those few seconds when Katze believed that Raoul was dead, that everything was over, were the scariest of all. Then he saw that Raoul's curled body jerked – heard a convulsive, pained breath-sob. The relief made Katze dizzy. Whatever it was she'd done to him – she left him alive. It meant that there was still a chance to fix it all!

He dropped to his knees beside Raoul, carefully trying to remove his hands from the face. The blood would not stop flowing – and Raoul's whole body was icy and unyielding. Katze could not tear his hands off.

"Raoul, please," suddenly he realized that Raoul couldn't see him, didn't know that he was there. "I want to help you. Please, let me help you."

Convulsive shuddering wasn't stopping, and these rare jerky breaths – Katze's words made no difference. And why should they anyways, he thought. Why would Raoul necessarily feel better in his presence?

"Oh God, Raoul... I understand... but please, trust me now – please, don't reject me..."

Raoul's wrists were slippery from blood – but at long last Katze managed to pull his hands away. He bit his lip in order not to scream. There was so much blood that he didn't notice the long lines of cuts at once.

"How... how did this happen..."

But he knew he wouldn't get an answer – and what did it matter anyway?

Katze got up, soaked a towel in water in the bathroom, applied it to Raoul's face. As soon as he was finished washing off the blood, new trickles of it began oozing from the cuts. He couldn't even figure out how many wounds there were in total.

Raoul shuddered in his arms, let out a painful moan – and Katze had to use all his willpower not to let his hands tremble. Weakness would be of no help – he needed to act.

He soaked the towel again, placed it on Raoul's face – the cuts mostly run across the bridge of his nose, crossing over each other. Raoul continued to twitch, as if from agonizing pain – and Katze realized with desperation that it was not because of these wounds – it was caused by something else, and he didn't even know what.

What have you done to him, Jupiter?

"Raoul," he ran his hand over Raoul's hair, feeling thick, clotted blood on the tips of his fingers. "Raoul, I will take you away from here."

He almost wasn't hoping for his actions or words to reach Raoul – but still his heart clenched as he realized that it was exactly the case, Raoul didn't hear him. It's like he was far away – or as if there was an unmovable obstacle between them.

Oh no, he couldn't lose Raoul like that!

At some point this thought became so unbearable that Katze lost his composure, simply held Raoul close, feeling the blood-soaked hair under his lips. Once his touch could calm Raoul down – once he had this power, but he lost it, and had only himself to blame for it.

Now Raoul didn't feel his embrace, still twitching from pain, the source of which was unknown to Katze.

They couldn't stay here. Raoul's muscles were like stone – with enormous effort Katze managed to unbend him, threw his arm over his shoulder and started dragging him to the exit. Anything rather than leave him here – where Jupiter could come back to at any moment.

There were several cars in the garage – he picked one and settled Raoul on the back seat.

"I'll be right back."

After all there were some people in the house – a few scared servants hiding in the kitchen. They perked up upon seeing Katze – and it seemed like they were expecting to see someone much more intimidating. Must've been that they've heard some of what had happened and were scared to come out.

Katze shook the one who was wearing driver's uniform – it was not Damian, someone new.

"The keys."

The guy didn't even argue – his eyes were silly and widely open. He placed the keys into Katze's palm.

Katze returned to the garage, got into the driver's seat – he gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles went white. Raoul's every jerky breath resounded in him with torturous pain.

"Hold on, please – we will be there soon. You'll get help soon."

Driving the car out of the garage he simultaneously fished out his cell phone and dialed a number of one familiar doctor – whom he could trust to keep his mouth shut about it. The guy promised to be at Katze's place in half hour.

Raoul's sobs became quieter – but Katze feared that it was because he was exhausted – not because the pain subsided.

"Please..." he didn't know whom he was begging, why he was even saying it out loud. "You must be ok. I will be able to help you... it's gonna be alright."

The road was cordoned off. A policeman signaled for him to pull over. Katze hurriedly rolled up the screen, hiding Raoul from sight. He composed his face into the usual cold mask that he often used when he was driving Iason.

"This is senator's car – haven't you noticed?"

The policeman blinked, glanced at the number plate and swallowed. Katze kept his gaze fixed on him, smiling a little.

"Excuse me... pass through."

"Thank you," he rolled up the window and hit the gas pedal. No one tried to stop him from now on.

---

The door closed after Katze with a dull click – and Sliver just stood there with his hand still raised and mouth slightly open. For a few seconds he was looking at the door as if it could make Katze come back. Then his shoulders slumped and he curled up hugging his knees.

What a fool he was – a fool and a loser – couldn't even stop him! Why the hell can't you talk – if only you could talk... Sliver slapped himself on the lips, but the pain was too subtle to make him feel better. Everything was hopeless... no, it was him, Sliver, who was hopeless.

Blindly he pulled a blanket left on the couch over himself. He wasn't even sure if he was cold – before he was never cold in this apartment. The blanket smelled slightly of dust, but it smelled of Katze too; Sliver closed his eyes inhaling this barely perceptible smell.

He dreamed so much – for all this time he dreamed to be here again. Even through his darkest moments not confessing to himself that he still thought that if Katze returned, if he would accept Sliver once again – everything could be alright.

And now Katze has returned; but nothing could be alright anymore. Sliver clenched his fists out of his self hatred – so hard that his nails whitened. He screwed it all up. He killed a man – an ordinary man, not some computer or a blondie. Hinley told him that blondies deserved to die, and so did Jupiter – because they betrayed the Committee. But that man – he wasn't a blondie, just some guy, and apparently just a few years older than Sliver himself.

And he was dead because of Sliver – and now Katze is going to die too. Why did he start to help Sliver... and why did Sliver let him? He should've pushed him away, ran away – for the sake of Katze. But Sliver in his utter egoism didn't do it – on the contrary, he clung to him, as if to let Katze go would mean that he'd disappear again.

Back there in the taxi Katze was kissing him... At that moment Sliver didn't realize it, but now he carefully touched his lips, as if he could still feel Katze's warm mouth on them. If only everything was different... if only he didn't do all he did – he could cherish this kiss in his memory, return to it and relive it, revel in it. Same way he relived the memories of that day when Katze took him to the city and they had breakfast in a real restaurant, and no one even dared to tell Katze that they didn't cater for mongrels.

And then Katze brought him to the shop and bought Sliver a jacket made of real fur – so light and warm – and long gloves, and new shoes – and all this looked not less, but rather a lot prettier than Sliver's short scarlet jacket.

"At least you won't have to freeze," Katze said, shrugging his shoulders.

Then he drove Sliver back home – and didn't forbid Sliver to come back again. Well, at least he didn't say anything back then – so it could be interpreted in any way you like. Sliver believed in it – until he was given that envelope with money.

And now... now he had ruined it all himself. Sliver moaned, but it was a soundless moan – and the silence around him suddenly seemed unbearable. He jumped off the sofa, dropping the blanket, and clicked the remote control. TV came to life. What he saw was his own face with slightly squinted eyes and a bit lip. And only the next moment did he notice the gun in his hands.

It was the exact moment when he got ready to shoot! Sliver felt nauseous. And he had this cold – collected – look. As if he knew precisely what he was doing, yes?

He didn't remember how he pulled the trigger – remembered only that he saw somebody else appear in front of the tall blondie. Maybe Katze was right and he really didn't shoot? But who did then?

Sliver didn't have time to finish this thought because the words said by the announcer finally sank in.

Five hundred thousands... Wow! For a moment Sliver just froze, paralyzed by the realization of the importance of what he had done. He was a real criminal, otherwise they wouldn't be offering so much money for his head! He had trouble even imagining such an amount of money – but he assumed that five hundred thousands would come in handy even in the wealthiest of households.

But he didn't want this money to go to just somebody, right? If it would be Katze who'd turn him in to the police and got it! That would be so great.

And the next moment Sliver rushed into the bathroom, pressing his palm to the mouth. He hadn't eaten anything today so he threw up almost dryly – with violent, painful spasms.

No, it wasn't true: if Katze did it – it would be horrible! He didn't want that! He was this rotten – he didn't even want the man who always helped him to earn a bit of money. But somehow the thought that Katze could bring the police here was unbearable.

Only Katze would never do this. He said he would try to help – and he went out exactly for that reason. Sliver didn't understand how one could simultaneously feel such relief and such shame – but it was like that.

He left the bathroom, wiping his face with a sleeve – and felt somebody else's present in the room. And this somebody was not Katze. Sliver didn't have a chance to get scared. Rough hands grabbed him and pressed him into this person.

"What I like about you, poopsie, is that you're not chirping," Hinley whispered into his ear.

The grip of his hands on Sliver's shoulders was so tight, as if he expected for Sliver to start resisting. But he didn't even as much as move; everything inside him froze – and the feeling of disappointment and grief that suddenly came over him was so unexpectedly strong.

He didn't want Hinley to be here – here, in Katze's home. Here everything was supposed to be different. Here Sliver sometimes could even believe that everything that happened to him before didn't matter.

He stood there, feeling Hinley's hot breath on the back of his head. Then the hand that was holding his arm turned him around.

"Are you not glad to see me or what?"

Sliver jerked: Hinley guessed that it was exactly the case. Hinley's face plowed with little scars was very close, but Sliver couldn't even raise his gaze in order to look at him.

"You were afraid that I'd leave you, right? Don't think so, I don't leave my comrades."

Somehow he didn't want to hear Hinley's cocky voice. And how... how did he get here? As if Sliver mused it out loud, Hinley answered:

"Locks here serve no purpose, one can open 'em with a finger. And I followed you – you and that guy. Where did you hook up with him? Though Marcia did say something about you charming someone from Tanagura. Is this him?"

For an instant Sliver felt angered that his mother thought it necessary to tell Hinley about everything – and immediately felt ashamed of his thought... she was dead, how could he be angry at her? He looked up at Hinley but didn't nod.

"Lucky for us," Hinley laughed, "I mean the fact that he turned up there, by the restaurant. He must be really hung up on you – so he can be of use."

Sliver didn't know why these words evoked such rage in him, such a strong desire to negate them. For several months already he didn't feel anything but gratitude towards Hinley – but now that dislike he felt for him in that other life, before the fire, came back.

"He went for the police," he said, carefully articulating the words. Hinley was the only one who could read Sliver's lips – he understood what he said this time too.

"For the police?" Worry crossed his face for an instant, and then he smirked. "Trying to scare me? Why would he go for the police – like he couldn't call them from here? No, he has something up his sleeve – and he's trying to help you out. Let him make an effort on my behalf too."

But what did Hinley need this for... Suddenly Sliver realized – remembered the long case that Hinley brought with him today – Sliver saw on TV that it was used to carry weapons.

"You were the one who shot him, weren't you? It was you who killed him?"

"Smart boy," Hinley's wide palm stroked his head. "Only we both failed – shot the wrong guy."

Sliver couldn't decide what pissed him off more – this light tone of Hinley's or the fact that he had it all planned beforehand. He writhed himself free from under the hand on his head, his eyes were flashing.

"You used me," never before did he try to speak clearer. He knew that Hinley understood – but he didn't answer, instead he caught Sliver by the shoulder again, dragged him closer. This time Sliver jerked, tried to escape, but the fingers dug painfully into him.

"Can't decide how I like you best, dolly," Hinley whispered right into his face; Sliver tried to get away from the reek of alcohol. "Whether it's when you're all soft and willing or when you're all flared up."

His lips covered Sliver's mouth, tongue slipped inside. There was nothing extraordinary about it, Hinley's done this many times before – but now Sliver felt nausea for some reason. He set his hands against Hinley's chest, pushing him away.

Hinley finished the kiss and straightened up.

"What, trying to play the kitten? Go on, I like that."

These words made Sliver feel unbelievably stupid. Really, what was with him – as if it was his first time? These few seconds were enough for Hinley to grab him again and throw him on the couch.

The truth was, Sliver let him do this – almost didn't resist. He could've tried to kick Hinley between the legs, to slip away – but he didn't do it. Hinley turned him over on the stomach, pulled off his pants.

"Why so dry here? I though he'd do you first thing after bringing you here."

Sliver twitched when Hinley's finger found its way inside him. A light sound of unzipping pants – and Sliver felt the blunt pressure of Hinley's cock. Searing pain appeared only for a few seconds and then there was only the feeling of invading cock. Sliver lowered his head on his hands and waited for Hinley to come.

He didn't want it to happen like this. He thought that some day he'd manage to talk Katze into it – and then they'd do it – maybe here, on this couch. And it turned out that Hinley was fucking him like that... He bit his lip to stop another wave of nausea from rising. Hinley was panting behind him, his fingers digging into Sliver's hips. However he always came pretty fast. This time too...

Warm trickles began to run down Sliver's inner thighs; Hinley pulled out of him and smacked Sliver's butt. Springs of the couch creaked softly and Sliver realized that Hinley got up.

He quickly pulled his pants back on, still feeling the wetness between his legs, feeling Hinley's smell on himself, on his skin, on his hair. Hinley's voice made him turn around.

"So, about that thing – who used whom, dolly. I think it was the other way round. When you had no one, you deemed old Hinley good enough for you. And now you're turning your nose up at me."

Sliver jerked as if hit. It was true... Hinley was right. He was ashamed, so ashamed...

"However, your hole is as sweet as ever," Hinley added. "Who'd think that you've been fucked by practically everybody."

These words didn't matter much to him – he already hated himself too much. He felt the chills again, wrapped his arms around himself trying to get warm. For some reason he couldn't take the blanket again – he thought that he'd taint anything belonging to Katze if he touched it.

Hinley walked around the room, picked something up from the floor and put it in his pocket, then pushed the computer's power button.

"It has a password... damn. Ah, well..."

The fact that Hinley was touching Katze's things – it was bad, it was unfair – and Sliver wanted him to stop doing it. Hinley pulled out the drawer of the table, turned around when he heard Sliver moving.

"What is it?"

"Don't paw over his table."

"Sorry, I don't understand what is it you're whispering. Speak aloud, sunshine."

It made it even worse – Hinley pulled the drawer out completely and emptied its contents on the floor – then he did it with another one. Pocketed some other things. Sliver couldn't stand watching it.

"Oh, and what is it we got here?"

He couldn't see what Hinley was holding in his hands and examining intently – and then Hinley suddenly was near him again, pushed him into the cushions, pressing hard. His face showed satisfaction and mockery.

"So, baby face, tell me again how your sweet man was fucking you," Hinley's hand was pressing him into the back of the couch, not letting him writhe out of its grip. "He screwed you hard, didn't he? Up the ass and in the mouth? You liked sucking him, didn't you?"

Oh God... some kind of stubbornness made him nod.

"He's better than you," he whispered.

"I though so," Hinley smirked contentedly. "Only one thing, it's interesting... why would your oh-so-wonderful beau keep this in his apartment?"

Some kind of bracelet? Sliver didn't know what it was – he narrowed his eyes trying to see better. There were some letters on it, so many of them that he couldn't read it.

"And haven't you by any chance noticed that there was something missing when you serviced him? Like between his legs, for example? It's interesting how did you manage to fuck with a furniture?"

At first Hinley's words made no sense – and then Sliver decided that he was not going to believe it. Hinley was lying – was trying to hurt him, get back at him. It couldn't be, it simply couldn't be... Katze wasn't a...

"What a surprise, ha? Your sugar daddy from Tanagura turned out to be a castrate. Well, you're always in luck, little prince."

Hinley burst out laughing. And this insolent, undoubting laughter was exactly what made Sliver believe.

"Got hooked up with a castrated mongrel..."

Sliver launched at him. One punch – in the groin – reached its destination – Hinley wailed. But already the next moment a slap in the face threw Sliver on the couch. It rang in his ears. Hinley hit him again, breaking his lips, then again and again until Sliver was squirming from pain, panting. And still this weakness was caused not only by this. The weakness was inside him.

So that's why... He recalled Katze's calm, thoughtful voice, reaching him in the darkness:

"I'm just not the kind of man who can make you happy – who can make anyone happy."

That's why... that's why he didn't want to get mixed up with Sliver... he... he couldn't at all whatsoever...

"What's wrong with you?" Hinley's hand entwined into his hair, turned him face up. "Crying? It's the first time I see you cry. Because of the castrate, is it? Don't you worry, you'll get from me everything that you're missing."

Once again he felt Hinley dragging his pants off – but those sensations were blurry, as if it was happening not to him. He didn't even twitch when Hinley entered him. On the couch in front of him the tiny silvery bracelet was lying – and now Sliver could read what was written on it: 'Furniture F103M, property of Iason Mink.'

Sliver reached out and touched the bracelet with his fingertips, and didn't let go of it until Hinley came.

"In any case, castrate or not, he can be useful," Hinley said finally, lighting up a cigarette. "And if he wants to get you out of this, then he'd have to do the same for me. You're my pass to the better future, kid."

He sat himself into the armchair, spreading his legs, and beckoned for Sliver to come closer – and he obediently kneeled down, lowering to Hinley's groin and began to lick his limp dick. Hinley ruffled his hair.

"Go on, work. At least it won't be boring to wait for your buddy to come back."

The bracelet was still clutched in Sliver's hand.

---

"Raoul, can you hear me?" Katze wasn't expecting an answer; it's just that the sound of his own voice helped him fight off panic attacks. He slowed down on a crossroad, turned around; Raoul's face with the blood soaked bandage over his eyes seemed waxen. His teeth were clenched between his slightly open lips. "Damn, damn it, oh why..."

What in the world has she done to him? It was worst of all – not knowing. And also this thought that had he, Katze, not hesitated, hadn't waited so long by the house – then, maybe, something could be prevented.

"Raoul, I'm sorry for talking to you. I know you hate me. And it's good, hate me – but, please, please, wake up."

He knew that what he was saying made no difference. Yes, Raoul hated him. And he didn't need Katze's permission for that. So, nothing could change. But Katze couldn't think logically anymore. Every time he heard Raoul's jerky breath-sob, he gripped the stirring wheel so tight his hands were going numb – and still the car was swerving; luckily the streets were almost empty.

What if Raoul dies? He couldn't think about it – but the thought was nagging him. Dies like this... it was not even clear what's wrong with him – it was impossible to help.

It wasn't easy to kill a blondie. But sometimes it worked.

I can't lose him, his thoughts were desperate. He reminded himself: you have already lost him. No, not this... if Raoul would never look at him again, it's ok, let it be so. Just make him come round, make him be alright.

He pulled over by the house. The doctor's car was still not there – but Katze hoped that he'd be here any minute now. He opened the door, bent over Raoul. He started shaking again – to see Raoul in such state – there was something horribly wrong in it, something abnormal. Katze stroked the soft hair that now acquired some dirty-reddish color of blood. If Raoul was conscious now, he would've never allowed it – would've never allowed Katze to touch him. This thought stung like a needle, but even more shocking was the feeling of the soaked bandage under his fingers. Katze withdrew his hand. Raoul arched agonizingly, and convulsed on the seat; Katze caught him, felt his resistance. Raoul's teeth were bared – another spasm was wracking him.

Katze held him, pressing him into himself until it was over. His hands were aching from the effort.

"Hush, everything's gonna be alright, love..."

He felt a strange sensation when the need to hold Raoul, to touch him, passed. It seemed he called Raoul 'love'... of course, as if he could say anything else.

"Everything's gonna be alright," he repeated. "I know you can do it – you are strong. You will manage to go through this."

Once again he threw Raoul's arm over his shoulders and pulled him out of the car. Raoul's body leaning onto him was heavy and limp. Raoul's head fell on Katze's shoulder; Katze's heart clenched from this unconscious move. He wasn't holding back anymore and held Raoul close all the time while they were in the elevator. Perhaps it was the last time he could hold Raoul – even if just like that...

He turned the key in the lock and noticed that it made a strange sound, but didn't have time to think it through.

"Stop right there. You hear me?"

He had never seen this man before. Battered face and thin braid thrown over his shoulder. On the floor, at the stranger's feet there was Sliver with his eyes wide open. The man's hand was pulling the boy's head back by the hair, and a tip of a knife's blade was pressed right to the dip between Sliver's collarbones.

"And no sudden movements if you don't want this chicklet's throat cut."

Sliver's lips had splits, he had a fresh bruise under his eye – Katze winced. He froze, supporting Raoul, feeling the blondie starting to tremble again on the threshold of new convulsions.

"So, you're the one who fired."

"Yes, it was me," the man gave a short laugh. "Didn't quite work out though."

Katze saw Sliver give a jerk – and a drop of blood appeared under the blade. The boy's gaze was almost insane – so desperate that Katze suddenly realized that just a bit more and he will launch forward and just impale himself on that knife.

"Sliver, don't move. Please."

"Yes, kiddo, careful, I don't want to hurt you," the man echoed. "If he won't make me do it, of course."

"What do you want?"

What else was there left to do? He had a paralyzer in his table drawer, but it was too far to reach – too big a risk. And the doctor was supposed to be here soon – so the situation needed to be resolved as soon as possible.

"Now that's more like it," the man sneered. "I had no doubts we'd come to an understanding. We're from the same area after all."

Katze was way too tense to consider these words.

"So what exactly do you want?"

"You can guess what. I want to get the hell out of here, from this planet."

"And what makes you think I can help you?"

He couldn't do it for Sliver, achieved nothing – and this son of a bitch, this bastard thought that for him...

"You'll have to make an effort. And I will of course need money. I am ditching the chance to get five hundred thousands here."

What a slime bag. Clearly it was bluff – and they both knew it: he wouldn't've been able to turn Sliver in without a through inspection by Jupiter – and that would've been the end of him. But Katze didn't doubt though that he'd manage to kill Sliver though.

Raoul's breathing became irregular, choking. Katze tightened his grip around Raoul's waist.

"Ok, let's discuss it. But first I need to get to the couch. I am not gonna do anything stupid, we are just going to walk to the couch and sit."

He saw the mongrel's eyes feel Raoul up, like warms.

"You brought someone else here? You're completely nuts, dude."

Katze licked his lips; he wasn't going to react to this. Keeping an eye on the knife he headed for the couch, laid Raoul down on it. The blondie was twitching, his head thrashing on the pillow – and Katze began to stroke his hair again, half consciously.

"I see you're on familiar terms with this blondie, ha?"

Only now did Katze realize that this guy apparently didn't recognize Raoul. It was understandable through – most of Raoul's face was covered... and hair – they were not called blondies for nothing, they all had almost identical hair.

"Listen... I can make it so you'll leave Amoi – don't worry. If I gathered correctly, they don't know that you're involved in all of this, right?"

He got a nervous laugh for an answer.

"It seems so. They are looking for somebody else... for the kid. But there are people who know much, much more."

But of course. What would he try assassinating the senator for, if there wasn't somebody controlling him?

"And these people believe that I owe them something. After the 'conspiracy of the superiors', you know. And I have another opinion on the matter."

"That they owe you."

"Exactly. And you're the one who's gonna settle the debt, furniture."

It seemed this nickname was going to haunt him forever – here, on Amoi. Although... wasn't it what he came back here for?

"I will pay you," his own debts or someone else's – doesn't matter. "I promise. Let him go – don't be afraid, I won't harm you."

"What makes you think I'm scared?" However, the knife withdrew only slightly from Sliver's throat. Katze took a deep breath.

"Alright. Then..."

He saw it coming – Raoul's body started to arch in spasm – he pressed him into the couch – turned back to look at the mongrel.

"Ignore this, it's just..."

After that he couldn't talk anymore – he needed all his strength to keep Raoul down – and only one thought was steadily ringing in his head: please, please, make it stop, make the hurting stop. He wasn't seeing anything except for Raoul's twisted mouth, wasn't hearing anything except for his irregular, shallow breathing – until it was all over – and Raoul went limp in his arms, just as before.

And then sardonic laughter reached his ears.

"What, the blondie has problems? I like it. But you, dude – you're really screwed. Defective blondie and this lad to boot – what are you gonna do with them?"

Katze clenched his jaw not to say anything to anger the bastard. And when it came down to it, he was right: he really didn't know what he was going to do.

The man suddenly grabbed Sliver by the neck, drew him closer – and leeched into his lips with a kiss. The hand that was holding the knife dropped to his lap and Katze thought that he could take a risk... But no, he wouldn't make it – he knew that. Sliver's throat contracted convulsively when the man's tongue invaded his mouth too far.

"I will miss you, little prince," the man uttered, letting him go. Sliver crouched on the floor again, hugging his knees.

This was meant for Katze's ears – and the man's voice carried no hint of a doubt that everything will be as he planned. Even his grip on the knife loosened. He fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulled one out.

The pack looked familiar. Quickly Katze scanned the table, the room. He thought he left it on the table... or was it on the floor... and now the mongrel was holding it... and the cigarette he was holding in his lips was black. A lighter flashed in his hand.

"Don't smoke this."

Katze didn't even know why he said it – for Jupiter's sake, he had no reasons to wish well for this scum. Just another death on his conscience... death that he prepared for himself – it would be going over the board.

For an instant the hand with a lighter froze in the air. A malignant voice:

"What, grudging me the cigarettes? Must been expensive, ha? You can't get any of those in Ceres."

Or maybe Katze knew that by trying to stop him, he would certainly make the bastard smoke it. Cigarette's end alighted with fire. A drag; a wisp of smoke let into the air.

He has already done this once before – gave the cigarettes prepared for himself to somebody else. Once before he has already killed this way – let Riki die because he didn't want Iason to be alone during his last minutes. Countless times since then he has thought that he was supposed to go to Iason himself instead of Riki. He though that Iason wanted Riki to be with him, that it made him happy. But was it possible?

To see a person you love die together with you – whom could it make happy?

"I need three hundred thousands. You must transfer it to an account in an interplanetary bank."

"Which bank exactly?"

He didn't have three hundred thousands, but it hardly mattered.

"Don't play with me, fellow. To a bank where I can reach it."

"'Pacific Time' would be alright?"

The dealer who sold him the cigarettes showed him a tape explaining how Black Moon kills. It was painless – you just fall asleep. Eyelids become heavy, the reality blurs – but you don't feel anything.

"And don't try to fool me – you understand, furniture?"

"Ok. Now I'm going to come up to the computer and do the transfer."

"No sudden movement. I'm watching you."

Katze got up. Raoul shuddered as if bothered by something.

"I changed my mind – make it four hundred thousands. They promise five hundred for the boy after all."

"Ok."

Even a million – he could promise anything. The man rubbed his eyes with the back of a hand as if his eyelids were prickling.

"Don't think you can fool m..."

He never finished. His body became limp, the knife slipped out of his hand – and the unfinished cigarette fell to the floor.

For some moments he just stood there, looking at the saggy body in the armchair – at the placid face that seemed almost attractive in death. The silence that descended was deafening – Raoul's shallow breathing was the only sound and it appeared so distant.

And then he heard Sliver's short sigh.

The boy's eyes were large as saucers – and his gaze was fixed on the lifeless body, as if he not only couldn't believe what happened, but couldn't comprehend it as well. He was sitting by the man's feet, looking up – convulsively panting for air. Suddenly terror overwhelmed Katze. He was told that the exhaled smoke was harmless – but what if it wasn't so – what if the boy got a dose of poison too?

He grabbed Sliver by the shoulders, pulled him up, looking into his face. For a few seconds the boy seemingly couldn't recognize him – and Katze went through hell while it lasted. Then Sliver's eyes focused on him – and the next shuddering breath became a sob.

"Everything alright?" Katze didn't know whether he was asking or trying to convince himself. "You're ok, right?"

Sliver's hands darted up embracing him – and the boy pressed to him with such force Katze never knew he had in him. He felt the tiny fingers clutching to his jacket as if Sliver was trying to snuggle even closer to him. The boy's sobbing was resounding in his own body.

Fear overtook him again – a different kind of fear – like that time when he was holding sobbing Raoul in his arms – he feared that he didn't know what he was supposed to do, that he didn't deserve such trust. All his life he tried not to let anyone close enough – he just didn't know how to be close with somebody. But now he didn't have a choice, did he?

He picked Sliver up – the boy seemed as light as a feather. Sliver's hot forehead pressed into his shoulder, and his thin hands were still wrapped around his neck.

"Please," Katze whispered, "forgive me."

He felt Sliver jerk – and suddenly a different sound appeared in his sobs, an attempt to say something. It wasn't working very well, for some time Katze couldn't understand a thing – and only a bit later did he catch the words:

"I didn't want him to come here... he followed me... I didn't want him to hurt you..."

"Everything's alright, don't be afraid," everything wasn't alright at all, but what else was he to say? "Everything is over."

"Is he dead?"

"Yes."

He felt Sliver sobbing again but this time almost soundlessly. He didn't know whether it was still shock – or woe that this man, whoever he was, was dead. He kept Sliver in his arms for a bit more, until the trembling almost stopped, then placed him on the ground and looked into the tear-stained face.

"I need your help, alright?"

Apparently he said the right words – Sliver nodded with a serious face.

"There's a man coming here soon – we need to move this..."

"His name is Hinley... was his name."

"Hinley."

The though of sharing the apartment with a dead body wasn't exactly pleasant – but it couldn't be helped, right? Katze dragged Hinley to the closet and shoved him inside. He saw Sliver bend down for the knife and pick it up. Something slipped off his hand and fell with a soft thud on the carpet. A furniture's bracelet.

But of course... that's how Hinley found out. For a moment Katze's eyes met Sliver's and he understood that the boy knew. But there was no time to ponder on that. The closet door shut hiding Hinley. Katze came back to the room and sat on the couch beside Raoul. Now all he had to do was wait.

A narrow shadow fell upon him – he looked up and saw Sliver, noticed his frozen gaze fixed on Raoul. If Hinley didn't recognize former senator, then Sliver somehow did.

"Don't say anything," Katze heard warning in his own voice. "This is not the senator... I mean, he's a different person, he's not at fault."

Of course; it's me who's at fault of everything, he added.

Sliver's wide open eyes stopped on his face – still the same speaking gaze. The boy shook his head and didn't say a word.

A knock on the door. Katze pointed hurriedly at the next room. Sliver left.

---

A sudden gust of wind, unexpectedly chilly, hit the face. In the dawning twilight the dull lights were slowly going out. Katze closed the window. The urge to smoke was almost unbearable and it seemed to him he could almost feel the familiar taste of smoke. But he hardly would've taken the unfinished pack from Hinley's dead body. Maybe he will quit smoking altogether. If he will have enough time for that.

The monotonous noise from the TV was constantly present behind him. The changing of the carrier by the senator was main news – it even moved aside the search of Sliver. However, nobody called off the reward.

The boy was sitting in the armchair with his legs tucked under him and munching on the crackers – the only food that could be found at Katze's. In any case he seemed not to notice what he was eating – his gaze was almost vacant, fixed on the screen where young Iason, posing in his scarlet coat, was explaining the reasons and the necessity of changing the carrier.

From time to time Katze caught sight of Sliver shifting his questioning gaze to Raoul lying on the couch.

The doctor left an hour ago. What Katze valued in him was the fact that he never asked unnecessary questions. The only thing he said when he had washed off the blood from Raoul's face was:

"I was curious to know what happened to the previous carrier. So that's how it is."

But his curiosity didn't make his movements less precise and skillful.

"Eight cuts, pretty deep ones. I will apply a fixing bandage, but I shall warn you – the scars will stay anyway."

Katze moved his shoulders as if he suddenly felt constricted. There was something horribly unfair in the fact that Raoul's exquisite, porcelain beauty had been damaged. Scars were for ordinary people, for people like himself. It was not supposed to happen to Raoul.

He will suffer when he finds out, Katze thought – and then another thought pierced through him, burning like fire. If only Raoul finds out... if only he comes round.

"And he will not be seeing with his left eye," the doctor added.

Katze wanted to have misheard it – wanted for it to be not what it was. But there was no mistake. But still... it was still possible to live with that – Raoul will cope with it; if only he could cope with whatever was destroying him from the inside.

"But what is wrong with him – why is he like that?..."

"I don't know," the doctor's voice became colder, as if he was trying to avoid questioning. "I don't know how to treat blondies with damaged minds. I gave him sedatives – so for now he will remain sleeping. Maybe he will beat this himself. Maybe... he will require help of qualified professionals."

Qualified professionals? Like correctors? I will not give him to her, Katze thought decisively to himself. He didn't believe in her help – after what she's done with Raoul, has thrown him away, like a used thing.

However, it can be so that he won't have any other choice.

And now Raoul, with a narrow bandage covering the upper part of his face, was lying on the couch, covered with a blanket – he was so pale that if it wasn't for his chest rising slightly with his breathing one could take him for a dead person.

Besides, what if it was so? What if his brain was dead? Sedatives helped remove fits of convulsions, but who knew what was happening inside of him that couldn't be seen.

No, Katze refused to think about it. He clenched his fist, stopped himself a moment before hitting the glass – and only sank his nails deeper into the palms. In the armchair Sliver shifted, drew a deep sigh.

"You love him, don't you?"

Katze felt like laughing. After all that happened – it was really the most important question, was it not?

"Yes," he said. Not because Sliver was waiting for an answer, but because he himself wanted to say it.

"And does he love you?"

"I think he hates me. You see..." but he didn't know how to say it – he'd have to say too much to tell the whole truth. "I... ruined him. I did a lot of things actually... people died because of me... in Ceres... maybe it would've happened anyway, even if I hadn't done what I have. But maybe... maybe not."

"You too should hate me," he finished awkwardly. He knew exactly what Sliver was going to say even before the boy started to shake his head desperately, as if trying to rid himself of the words said by Katze.

Perhaps it was the worst of all – that the boy trusted him so much. One day Sliver will understand that Katze was telling the truth... that is if he will have time to understand.

"If I had known," Sliver began, "that he was the one you love... I wouldn't've fired. Honestly."

For some time Katze was looking at him – until the meaning of the words hit home. Sliver buried his nose in his cup, almost screening himself with it – as if he was ashamed of what he said. Katze took a few steps towards him, touched his cheek – and the boy clung to his hand, hastily and longingly.

"Thank you," Katze said.

For an instant it seemed to him that nothing else existed anymore – only this place, only the three of them – and that he could stay forever like this, with Raoul, with Sliver. A safe place in the middle of a storm. But he knew they won't be safe this way.

He needed to do something, to get them out of here – before it was too late. Sliver had no one else to depend on, and Raoul... Katze had to save them.

And damn him if he won't do it.

Computer's screen blinked with a pale blue light. He touched the keyboard and felt a familiar ease of connecting to a machine. When he was at the computer he didn't have to doubt anything, he trusted himself and knew that he was doing everything right.

He remembered well where that file was located; even though for ten years he never touched it even once, haven't even felt the urge to do so. One of the two files he was able to discover that time from Iason's house. For an instant Katze's hands froze over the keyboard; he recalled once again that night when Iason was supposed to destroy him, but had only marked him. Iason never asked him about what he managed to do with those files he discovered; had he asked, Katze would've told him – fear and gratitude wouldn't have let him hide it. But apparently Iason thought that Katze managed to just barely glimpse at them.

Katze would never have used them. But now... he didn't have any other alternative.

The file was in its place. He attached it to a letter, launched a program and leaned back in his chair. In reality he didn't hesitate; it's just that for a moment he felt such weakness caused by what he was about to do. But maybe Iason would've forgiven him. He pushed the call-button.

"I want to speak with senator Jupiter."

Behind him Sliver let out a short sigh of surprise.

"Leave your message."

"No, I must speak with her directly. It regards Tanagura's safety."

He knew that the conversation was being recorded, that the tracer has already located the source of the call. But it won't matter, they won't make it on time anyway.

"Tell her that the file 786 was sent to the federal government."

A pause. How long will it take them to check this... and realize that they can't prevent it? They will try of course, he knew that. But Leon insisted on him doing the job for a reason – Katze really was the best here, on Amoi. Seconds passed in silence.

"Repeat again what you want."

"Connect me to the senator."

"Senator Jupiter is in a meeting."

"I think that not anymore."

He was expecting this, was counting on this – but still, when on the screen before him appeared a delicate young face with transparently blue eyes, he shuddered.

"Citizen K1418D is trying to blackmail his own planet?"

The voice was slightly mocking – the one Iason sometimes used when talking to somebody who did some silly and stupid thing – nothing too significant to deserve punishment – just a small thing. The voice was a bit higher and still childishly unsteady – but the tone, the expression... how did she manage to master him?

He couldn't think about it, he mustn't do it; just looking at this face in its heartwrenching beauty was unbearable. Iason... Katze was ready to die for his smile alone, for his approval – would've gladly died if Iason was to wish for it.

It is not Iason; it's her.

"The federal government will receive this file in... 56 minutes 32 seconds. You won't be able to stop the transmission. If I don't enter a new password every two minutes, the transmission of data will happen automatically."

Perhaps she already knew all that – her people have already tried and realized that they are not coping – otherwise she wouldn't have been talking to him right now. Two minutes – he deliberately made the interval so short – so that her people wouldn't have a chance to attack.

"A ten-year old file. Is the citizen certain that the federal government will be interested in it?"

"As far as I recall, the only base for intervention into Amoi's domestic affairs is a threat to other planets' safety. Separate negotiations with Kella is a sufficient threat."

"The negotiations were never finished."

"Correct. Perhaps the federal government will choose to ignore the fact of the negotiations taking place. But what if not? What if they are merely looking for a reason to intervene?"

He saw a thin wrinkle cross Iason's fine brow, his light blue eyes darken with thought. This childlike face was more expressive than adult Iason's face – and all the more beautiful because of it. It hurt to look at him.

There was a time when he would rather let himself be cut into pieces than upset Iason. But... but it was not Iason; Katze reminded himself once again of this – needed to do it every minute, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to go on.

"Is citizen K1418D willing to endanger the entire planet?"

"I hope I won't have to do it."

Just several hours back he himself was an object of blackmail, when Hinley was trying to play him. And now they switched roles; Hinley was dead... and Katze was somehow hoping to make this work.

Iason's slender face on the screen became serene, as if he was finding it even slightly amusing.

"And what is it that my citizen wants?"

"I need the boy to be cleared of charges for assassination attempt on the senator. I need an exit permit. For him, me and..."

"He is with you as I understand?"

There was no point in denying it. Katze nodded. He expected for her to say that criminal actions of such sort couldn't be forgiven, expected even that the screen might go out – and an assault would begin. Instead a light smile crossed her lips.

"And my Raoul – is he with you as well?"

He shuddered. She tilted her head a bit; light strands fell on the scarlet silk of the coat. Iason never wore red...

"I remember your face – saw it in Raoul's thoughts. He tried to hide it, silly boy. What was your name again... Katze? You caused him pain."

I know... oh God, I know.

"My poor Raoul... like a moth to the flame. Allowed himself what he shouldn't have – and burned his wings."

And you, what have you done to him? Katze flicked his gaze on the seconds slipping away, entered a password.

"I need an exit permit for Raoul too. The three of us must leave Amoi unhindered."

"You're asking a lot. And what do you offer in return, furniture?"

"I will stop the data transmission when we are out of Amoi's territory."

"But how can I trust you?"

It was almost comical. Jupiter was bargaining – with him?

"I won't deceive you. I just have... no other choice."

"There is always a choice."

A smile graced Iason's beautiful face – a slightly dreamy smile, like he was listening to something inside himself.

"Well, citizen K1418D. Perhaps I will just have to trust you."

A signal of an incoming message seemed deafening to him. Katze opened it. Exit permits.

He couldn't waste time anymore, hurriedly printed them out, then switched the transmission to his cell phone, turned to Sliver.

"We are leaving."

The boy's eyes were almost insane, but he merely nodded and sprang to his feet. Katze came up to Raoul, wrapped his arm over his shoulder. Still the very same catatonic obedience in the blondie's body. He stroked Raoul's hair lightly.

I don't know if you want this... Forgive me if I'm doing not what you want.

They weren't stopped even once – the notification system was working perfectly. But during the entire drive Katze was gripping the steering wheel with such force, that his fingers left imprints on the hard surface of it.

They were met at the cosmoport. One hand Katze used to support Raoul, the other was placed on the phone's key. If they attempt something he would still be able to make it...

What he didn't expect – was to see androids step aside, letting through a smiling boy with streaming silver hair. What he didn't expect was that to see Iason so close, to meet his gaze – not from a screen, but like this – would be so painful.

"So, you're leaving?"

Senator's voice was almost soft; it would've been better if she was threatening them – he would've known how to deal with it. But this smile – Iason never smiled this way at him. It was almost impossible for Katze to win against it.

"I suppose... I'm letting you go."

She said it as if he hadn't forced her to do it – as if it was her own decision – and with an instant terror Katze realized that it was exactly so. Did he really think that he could outsmart Jupiter? She could've stopped him had she wanted to. Maybe she still wanted to.

"You have amused me, furniture. Perhaps I should consider paying more attention to mongrels. When it comes down to it, they have paid for what their ancestors tried to do. And if amongst them there are such intelligent individuals..."

He didn't believe her. But nothing was up to him anymore. He will never return to Amoi – none of them will. He felt Sliver clinging to him like a scared little kid, as if Katze was in fact able to protect him.

"Well," light strands shifted when she shook her head as if thinking something over. "Go on."

He had already taken a few steps to the crossing point when she called out to him again.

"You could stay though. I guarantee you immunity – for all of you. Even for the little would-have-been killer."

It was too good to be true. He wasn't going to buy it – and by her mocking gaze he understood that she knew it.

"What – don't you trust me? I did trust you."

"No, please, no, don't," he felt Sliver tugging at his sleeve in panic, quietly murmuring pleading words.

"I can help you. I can even restore my beautiful Raoul's mind – if you think that there is someone else who can do it then you're wrong."

He cast a glance at Raoul's face, covered by hair and a white bandage, felt the weight of the half conscious body leaning on him. If she was telling the truth... and if Raoul wouldn't come round... what will he do then?

Why did he get an urge to believe her? Maybe she has tempered with his mind... All of a sudden he felt it so clearly – imagined it really happening – how she is coming up to them – and he is submitting to her... and for a second it seemed to him that it would bring relief.

How will he live if Raoul stays locked in the ruins of his own conscience? How will he live knowing that he let him down for this one last time?

The boy-Iason reached out a white gloved hand, palm up – as if expecting Katze to place his life into it. And he wanted to do it – wanted almost irresistibly.

"Please, please, don't listen to her," Sliver's trembling voice was reaching him from afar. "Katze almost couldn't comprehend a word. He couldn't see anything except for Iason's blue eyes. And didn't want to see anything else."

Didn't he dream of dying for Iason? Did he want anything else?

Yes. He did want. He wanted to save Raoul and to save the boy... didn't want them to be hurt anymore. He wanted to be together with them. Even if he didn't deserve it – he wanted to be with them.

"Let us through."

The light smile on Iason's face didn't fade – as if Katze's answer was exactly what she expected it to be.

"Yes, of course," the gloved hand lowered. "This is your decision. I wish you to never regret it."

He could hear her voice the entire way to the exit.

"I wish you to never think about what could have been if you stayed – if I haven't deceived you. I wish you to never remember that you could have been here – by my side, could have served me all your life – that you could've been looking into Iason's face till the day you die. I wish you to be happy with the ones you've chosen... over me."

---

The shuttle exited the territory controlled by Amoi one and a half minute before the deadline. Katze stopped the transmission. For a few minutes he sat there frozen, waiting for the shuttle to turn back. It was not supposed to happen – it was an independent transport company – but what if Jupiter managed to organize it?

Nothing happened. A slender stewardess came up to them with a tray of drinks.

"Does the boy want to watch cartoons?"

"I think he does," Katze smiled at her.

Sliver fell asleep just like that, with headphones on and multicolored patches of light coming from the screen dancing all over his face. Katze looked stealthily at his fragile figure curled up in the overly wide seat, at his half open mouth and dark eyelashes that cast shadows upon his pale face.

Raoul's long fingers in his own were cold and lifeless – his head was laid backwards, hair was half covering the bandage.

"... if you think that there is someone else who can do it then you're wrong," Jupiter's words resurfaced in his memory, unbearably clear.

She knew how to pick her last words. Perhaps it was the best revenge on her part.

Almost unconsciously he brought Raoul's fingers to his lips. He knew he had no right to do it, to take advantage of the fact that Raoul didn't feel it, couldn't push him away. But he just couldn't fight this desire. Even if he will never dare do it again – at this very moment he needed to feel Raoul.

The motionless fingers that he was pressing to his lips were soft, unresisting. Closing his eyes Katze kissed the fingertips, remembering how once Raoul was touching his face, so lightly. If there was a possibility to turn back time, to not make all the mistakes that had been made...

But he must live with what he had done – must live because Sliver needed him... and, perhaps, Raoul needed his as well.

"I will always be with you," he whispered. "Until you reject me."

When the fingers in his hand moved, he almost missed this moment, almost didn't believe it. And then a strong slender hand squeezed his palm – and then he didn't doubt anymore. A hot wave of joy and panic overwhelmed him.

"Raoul..."

The face, half covered by the hair, changed slightly, brows gathered as if from pain. Katze waited, his breath held.

"Katze?"

He didn't know what to say, could he ask for forgiveness, how could he make Raoul hear him out?

"Katze, are you here? Why is it so dark, I can't see anything."

"Everything's gonna be alright," he whispered, "it's just a bandage, it will be removed soon."

He saw as something akin an electrical current went through Raoul's body – his hand clasped Katze's palm harder, almost breaking his fingers. Raoul leaned towards him, as if trying to see him.

"You came back."

Yes... you can do whatever you want with me. Hate me; just don't retreat back into yourself!

He shivered; not from the pain in his palm held in a vice grip – this pain was almost unnoticeable to him. A far greater pain was caused by the fact that now Raoul will let him go – never again will want to touch him.

The hand unclenched – and Katze almost screamed, that unbearable was the loss of contact. And then Raoul's fingers reached for his face, moved over his lips, his cheek, stroked his eyelids. It was exactly the touch that he could never forget – light, as a feather, unendurably careful.

"It's you. It's really you."

Something sharp shuttered in his chest, slashing with the splinters. Raoul's face blurred before his eyes; but sure Katze wasn't crying, he had no right to cry. Raoul's fingers touched his eyelashes.

"What is it? It's wet."

He shook his head; a pointless gesture, Raoul couldn't see him – but Katze knew that if he tried to say even one word he'd break.

"Did something happen? Where are we?"

He needed to answer; he managed to get a grip over himself.

"On a shuttle. We left Amoi. Jupiter... let us go."

"We are together?" Raoul's voice sounded somewhat strange, as if he wasn't sure he has heard right.

Katze nodded; he knew Raoul would feel his gesture – Raoul's palm was still touching his cheek.

"If you want it," he said. "If you want it, we will be together."

Epilogue

7:30

"Where are my flakes?" Sliver's complaining voice came from the kitchen.

In the glass of the French window Katze saw reflection of the ruffled hair and pajamas decorated with blue ghosts. Sliver shivered. It was not cold in the house, but the boy was hardly an early bird.

In the kitchen something slammed and then came a soft sound of a box placed on the table

"Not these ones," Sliver whined. "Where are my honey flakes?"

"In the shop."

"What, somebody ate them yesterday?"

"Not yesterday, in the night. The one who likes to roam around the house at nights."

"Yeah, right."

Luckily, Raoul apparently decided to ignore the last surly remark. Katze shut the notebook and went to the kitchen.

"Sliver, you have fifteen minutes to wash and get ready, and you know it. If you don't hurry, you'll go by the school bus."

Two pairs of eyes were raised at him – innocently wide brown eyes of Sliver, and Raoul's dark blue, slightly narrowed above a cup of coffee.

"You know I'll be ready," the boy chanted enthusiastically. The whining voice was gone. "Good morning."

"You already saw him today," Raoul remarked poisonously.

"So what?" Sliver shot back.

"I wish you knew how it annoys me to find you in our bed every morning," the blondie put the cup on the table an angry gesture.

"I had a nightmare," Sliver complained, "so I came."

"You don't have to watch horror movies in the middle of the night."

"But you weren't doing anything when I came."

"Sure thing. After you came we didn't do anything either. Coffee?" the last question was directed at Katze and uttered in a completely different tone.

Katze nodded with a sigh. Same old story. Raoul rose, filled the cup and gave it to Katze, at the same time pulling him to himself. Not that Katze resisted. Raoul's lips touched his. Sliver gave a slight cough.

From so close it was possible to see the thin lines of scars on Raoul's face. Blondie's healing abilities were better than those of the ordinary person, but some traces nevertheless remained. It was also possible to notice the damaged, unnarrowed pupil.

The long lock of Raoul's soft hair tickled Katze's face. He pushed it back, lingering in Raoul's embrace for another moment, which was enough for Sliver to impatiently fidget in his place.

"I thought someone were saying that we were late."

"And someone could not stare when two people..."

"What should I do? Cover my eyes all the time?"

Katze exasperatedly stared out of the window, at the green lawn stretching before the house. Green calmed... and he needed something calming.

It was the same house where he was going to live in with Killie. Now the three of them lived here together. His family.

And the two members of his family were absolutely unbearable.

Raoul sighed with satisfaction and again sank down to the armchair, pulling up his legs – mirroring exactly Sliver's position. Katze wondered if they were aware how similarly they acted. However, he didn't really hope they would come to terms with each other.

"I have classes till five o'clock – will you pick me up?"

"I don't know," Katze shook his head. "I told you, we are handing over the program today, I'll probably have to stay longer. Raoul can collect you.

Raoul diplomatically kept quiet at that; Sliver was much less subtle.

"Him? I don't want to."

"Why?"

Just like that. Out of spite.

"Last time he went to speak with the teacher about me."

"Yes. And he found out many interesting things."

"That's unfair!" Sliver whined.

"To be honest," Raoul shrugged, "I don't really feel like collecting him either."

"Who do you mean by 'him'?" Sliver asked in a voice of an unfairly offended child.

"Is that so hard to guess?" the blondie glanced at him coldly.

"How would you like if I called you 'he' in your presence?"

"That's exactly what you do."

Enough! Katze slammed his cup against the table, turned on his heel and left. It was better to wait in the car than listen to it.

"You see," he heard Sliver's whisper from behind, "you made him angry."

"In my opinion someone else did it."

He went out on the terrace, felt a light breeze on his face. It was warm and smelled of green. This place was so different than Amoi. It was not easy to get used to it. Sometimes his memories turned back.

Sometimes it seemed to him that everything around him wasn't real. Too good to be true. An illusion, wishful thinking. In fact he'd never left Amoi, Raoul never recovered, and Sliver had long been dead. Perhaps he then trusted Jupiter and was now sitting in a memory-erasing chair, his mind trying to escape reality creating these visions.

He didn't want to think about it. Raoul and Sliver's voices reached him, continuing the argument, that – as it seemed – gave them both an unaffected pleasure. Katze smiled.

"I wish you to never think about what could have been if you stayed – if I haven't deceived you. I wish you to never remember that you could have been here – by my side, could have served me all your life – that you could've been looking into Iason's face till the day you die. I wish you to be happy with the ones you've chosen... over me."

He would never forget these words Jupiter had said – and even so, they no longer had power over him. Whether Jupiter liked it or not, he never regretted his decision. He was happy – with the ones he had chosen, with the ones who had chosen him.

The End

Force Majeur – part 2 <<

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