Fortress
by Becca Abbott
Part 1
Els had been certain he was prepared for planetary gravity. Every day since learning of his master's new assignment, he'd been working out in their quarters' small fitness room, lifting weights and running for miles on the treadmill. But as he struggled up the jetbridge after Draco, the pet knew he hadn't trained nearly enough. He was sweating under his fine new suit and Draco's carry-on bags, so light on Erba when they'd boarded the spaceliner, now felt as if they weighed fifty pounds each.
Directly in front of him, Draco stopped abruptly, blocking the entrance to the terminal. Glad for the chance to catch his breath, the pet lowered the bags, only to stumble forward when another of the liner's first-class passengers ran into him.
"What the hell?" he heard. Then the outburst died away to annoyed muttering as the crowd piled up behind them. Everyone was eager to get on with disembarkation and the drinks that waited for them in the VIP lounge, but Draco was a Blondie, which meant that they all waited on his pleasure and held their tongues.
Surreptitiously wiping his long bangs from his eyes, Els cast a worried look at his master. Draco had been in an uncertain mood since the Committee's summons. It had been seven years since the Blondie had last set foot on Amoi. Was he nervous to be back? It was hard to tell anything from those still, perfect features.
Draco began walking again and the grumbling behind Els quieted. People hurried forward, spilling through the doorway and into the lounge, giving him wide berth. Els kept close on Draco's heels, looking around at everything with unabashed curiosity. He was a miner's son, colony born and bred. He had never expected to leave Erba, much less in this style!
The spaceline's lobby was enormous, almost as big as one of Erba's commercial promenades. There were dozens of lush plants set about in big pots. On Erba, it would have cost a fortune in water taxes to keep them. Huge windows looked out onto the planet's surface. It made Els dizzy to think that the endless expanse of sky wasn't a holograph, but miles and miles of breathable air. In the distance, he could see the shining towers of legendary Tanagura. According to his guidebook, some of them were as tall as the colony itself.
"Drink, sir?" A pretty youth bowed low in front of Draco. He carried a tray of spindle-stemmed crystal glasses. His hair was the same color as his uniform, a light blue. His uniform clung to a lithe, supple form, concealing little in spite of the fact that the garment covered him from chin to ankle.
Now that Els looked more carefully, he saw a half dozen other boys, similarly dressed, weaving skillfully in and out of the travel-weary crowd. Each was stunningly attractive, with bright, flirtatious smiles. Were they pets, too?
The blue-haired youth cast a quick assessing glance at Els. "Colonial," his politely disdainful gaze said. Inferior. Then he turned his arch smile back to Major Brand and lifted his drink tray a bit higher. His body shifted in a way that made Els' body leap in response. "They're on the house, sir!"
"No," said Draco with barely a glance. "Els, bring the bags. There's Captain Rayne, my liaison."
Els was unable to resist a smug look over his shoulder at the other pet. Then, half-running to keep up with Draco's long strides, he ran after his master across the busy lobby toward a man with light brown hair and a Templar officer's grey uniform.
"Major, sir!" the man greeted Draco with a crisp salute. "Welcome back."
Draco inclined his head briefly.
"There's a car waiting, sir. The meeting has been moved up, so I'm afraid you'll have to go straight to headquarters. I realize that it's been a long trip and we're terribly sorry for the inconvenience. Hopefully, business can be conducted in a minimum of time and you can get on to your new post."
"And what would that be?" asked Draco, just a touch of ice in those calm tones.
Els watched the captain redden and his eyes slid away. "Well, sir, as to that, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. They'll explain everything at headquarters." The man paused, noticing Els for the first time.
"My pet," explained Draco shortly.
"I can call for a cab and have him delivered to your hotel, sir."
Els' heart stumbled, terrified at the prospect of being left alone in this huge city where he knew nothing, not even how to act.
"He's also my Recorder," said Draco.
That surprised the captain and dismayed him, too "There is already a Recorder present, sir."
"I never attend meetings without my own," Draco interrupted him. "I'm permitted. It's in the regulations."
The cool Blondie gaze gave no quarter. Rayne's eyes fell first. "Very well, sir. It's irregular, but it's not for me to decide."
"Correct."
Stepping out of the terminal was a moment of truth for Els. The pet found himself holding his breath as he walked through the wide glass doors and into the street. From the corner of his eye, he saw Draco watching him. A faint smile deepened the ends of the Blondie's mouth, as if he understood Els' apprehension. Els took a long breath, just to show that, of course, he knew it was possible to do so.
Rayne escorted them to a waiting car. On Erba, there were only electrical carts small enough to negotiate the colony's narrow corridors. To Els, this vehicle looked enormous, all sleek lines and glittering chrome. He gaped at it, awed, while Rayne spoke to Draco in a low voice, then hurried away. The officer left a young man in a driver's uniform to jump out, to run around and open the passenger door for them. Els, overwhelmed by the onslaught of strange and wonderful sights, bumped his head getting in.
The car was plush and quiet. Deep cushions cradled his aching muscles. It rolled smoothly through streets over which Tanagura's soaring towers loomed, the height of them taking Els' breath away. He sat with his nose pressed to the window, staring up at their thousands of lights, mouth ajar.
"Well?" Draco's deep voice was colored with amusement. "What do you think of Tanagura?"
"It's so huge!" Els replied. "Is this Midas?"
He'd heard of Midas, Tanagura's notorious pleasure suburb. Most Blondies lived there, it was said, and kept stables of pets. Before Draco had come to Erba, he'd lived in Midas. There were fine restaurants, sex clubs, and every imaginable business catering to pleasure. The Pet Academy was there, too.
But Draco only said, "This is Frea, the administrative sector. Midas is east."
"Will we live there?"
"If they mean to reassign me here, probably." There it was again, that dark undercurrent in the otherwise emotionless tones.
"I don't understand why they would just drag you back here without giving any reason!" Els muttered. "It's rude! How can you plan anything if you don't know what you'll be doing?"
"I don't think," Draco said after a long pause, lips twitching again, "that my convenience is much of a concern for them."
Els fell silent. He had been Draco's pet for two years. In that time, he had come to know most of his master's business, including why Erba Space Colony had been lucky enough to get a real Blondie to oversee its law enforcement activities in the first place.
Seven years ago, Major Draco Brand had arrived at the remote asteroid mining colony to assume the post of Templar commander, a position he'd nether requested nor wanted. People said that Draco had been in line for an important promotion on Amoi, but that someone else had gotten it. According to the stories, he'd been enraged, accusing his rival and the Templar Executive Committee of bribery and corruption. There had been a trial and a big scandal, but in the end, Draco had been unable to prove his allegations. To punish him, they'd sent him to Erba.
Now the men who had exiled him were calling him back. Els wanted to think it meant all was forgiven. No matter what had happened in the past, the Committee could not possibly deny what an exceptional officer Draco had become! They had only to look at Erba itself! Draco's reputation everywhere in the colonies was one of efficiency, integrity and honor.
The car slowed and turned onto a drive that led underneath one of the great towers. Guards at a checkpoint stopped the car and looked over Draco's identification. Els' pet papers and Recorder's license were also presented and scrutinized before they were allowed to drive on.
In the underground garage, they stepped into an elevator lined with faux wood paneling and with music piped softly into the scented air. It whisked them up and up, emptying them at last into a spacious lobby. Once again, Els was forced to shut his sagging jaw at the lavishness of his surroundings. There were more of the water-guzzling plants, acres of fine carpet and furniture in small, cozy groups under clusters of floating light spheres.
They were very high in the building, looking down on some of the towers he'd gaped up at from the street. It was well past normal business hours. The place was deserted except for another officer who waited for them at the elevator. This man, too, was disconcerted by the sight of Els. He accepted Draco's explanation without demur, however, and led the two of them through the lobby and down a corridor to a pair of tall, double doors.
"If you will wait a moment, sir, I'll announce you," he said, with another quick glance at the pet.
"Will he be there?" Els whispered when the doors had closed behind the man.
Draco's mouth jaw tightened briefly. "Jor?" He reached over and straightened Els' tie, then flicked a wisp of strawberry hair out of his pet's eyes. "Almost certainly."
Gregor Jor. Colonel Gregor Jor. The man who had bought the promotion and Committee seat that should have been Draco's.
"Stay alert in there," said Draco.
"Yes, sir."
The doors opened again. It was their escort. "Please come in, Major."
Head high, trying to hide his nervousness, Els followed Draco. There was a big table and six men sitting at it, all dressed in uniforms resplendent with medals and braid. Which one was Jor? he wondered as he took out his receiver and set it on the table. Seated to the right of the Templar with the most medals was another Recorder. Prim and ramrod straight, he stared unblinkingly at Els.
Nervously unwinding the fine thread of cable, Els plugged it into the tiny port in his right temple, hidden under his hair. There was the usual flicker in his vision as the receiver synchronized with his biorhythms. Everything he saw and heard tonight would be recorded on cells in his brain somewhere, a place that even he couldn't access. Only Draco, who owned him and the password, would be able to retrieve it.
"Good evening, major," said the man with all the medals. "Welcome back."
Draco inclined his head briefly and said only, "Thank you, general." Turning to Els, he said in a clear voice, "For the record, present at the meeting are General Tom Mika, Lieutenant Colonel Deklar Finn, Colonels Steven Philips, Alan Gesset, Gregor Jor and Ram Dahamahthra. The presence of another Recorder is also noted."
Els repeated the names quietly and tried not to stare at the scowling man seated at the general's left hand. So that was Jor.
General Mika's lips thinned. "I am a little surprised that you would insist on bringing a Recorder to this meeting, Brand. You know there is always one in attendance." He glanced at their Recorder.
"You must forgive me," Draco replied smoothly. "Dealing with matters on Erba these past few years, I've learned it's wise to keep multiple Records of important conferences. So many misunderstandings are avoided that way."
The words were innocuous. To a Reviewer reading them in a court of law, they would have no legal meaning. Here, in this room, with tension boiling like one of Els' stews, there was no mistaking what Draco truly meant.
Els fixed his gaze firmly on his receiver and pressed clammy palms against his knees. This was not like an Erban committee meeting. Draco was not the ultimate authority here and, if what he hinted was true, these were men of great power unrestrained by the same moral code to which Draco adhered. The youth stole a look at his master. The handsome face was completely expressionless.
"If it will make you more comfortable, then certainly, we can have no objection," grated the general. "I assume, knowing you, that there is no possibility of anything discussed today leaking to the media."
Draco didn't dignify that with a response.
"Very well, we'll get on with it. As you've doubtless suspected, you're being temporarily re-assigned."
This was not much of a surprise. Els glanced around the table at the sour faces and wondered at them.
The general cleared his throat and touched something on the control panel before him. In the center of the table, a holographic image appeared. It was the image of a Blondie, very handsome, his hair falling in rich, golden waves over his shoulders. Most Blondies wore their hair long. Draco did not. He claimed it was a nuisance.
"A great deal has happened since you went to Erba," said General Mika, "and little of it good. To go straight to the heart of the matter. Two years ago, Raoul Am went renegade and vanished into the Old City."
"Am?" Draco stared at the image, then at the general. "You're serious?"
The name was familiar and Els frantically searched his memory. Raoul Am. His eyes widened. Raoul Am was Jupiter's Chief Psychologist, a man of enormous power and one much feared.
"Afraid so," said Mika. "He's been busy gathering outcasts and malcontents to him and, lately, has taken to attacking outlying police posts and stealing weapons – some of them extremely dangerous."
"Why?"
The general's bushy eyebrows lifted. "Obviously, he means to overthrow the government."
Draco shook his head. "You're right, sir. I have been away a long time. I take it we're to find Am and bring him in?"
More silence, longer this time. Then, in unexpectedly bitter tones, the general replied, "We've had little success at it, so far. We've sent a number of commando units into the Old City and every one of them has been slaughtered."
Els heard this with shock. The Templars had failed?
"We're running out of time," continued the general. "Jupiter grows impatient. Therefore, we have taken an unorthodox step toward solving the problem."
Someone snorted. General Mika twitched but didn't look around. "We're sending in a single agent to locate Raoul and report back on his location, someone with prior experience of the Old City. Unfortunately, that man is not a Templar and we've been forced to..."
Another snort, louder this time. It came from another Blondie, the Colonel Phillips. He sat slouched in his chair, watching everyone with a slight sneer on his face. Draco stared at him, then back at the general.
"Who is this agent?" he asked. "Since when do Templars go outside the organization?"
A muscle leapt in the general's square jaw. "It's Iason Mink."
Draco went very still. "Mink?"
Iason Mink, Chief Administrator of Midas, and, some whispered, a whole lot more.
"That is correct." The general stared at the holograph.
"Are you mad?"
"Major, you are out of line!"
Draco was unmoved. "And when did Iason Mink set foot in the Wasteland? Even his criminal enterprises in Ceres are handled by underlings."
"That's classified," replied the general.
"And I would be careful about making accusations of criminal activity," added Jor mockingly. "Unless, of course, you've come up with some evidence of it this past seven years."
Draco ignored the colonel, keeping his attention fixed on General Mika. "If I remember correctly, Iason Mink and Raoul Am are friends. He actually agreed to this?"
"Not precisely, but we don't anticipate that he'll refuse."
"And why is that?"
"Because we have something he values."
The image changed and Els found himself looking at a police holo of a young man with hair as black as midnight.
"This is Mink's pet, Riki."
Els' jaw dropped. Even Draco allowed a flicker of expression to disturb his icy calm. "A mongrel?"
"As I said, Major, you've been away a long time. Yes, a mongrel. He attracted Mink's attention five years ago. Who can explain it? Mink took him off the streets of Ceres and, incredible as it seems, had him trained. There are even rumors that he has sex with the creature."
Els was dumfounded. A Blondie having sex just like some common citizen? And with a mongrel? He glanced at his master from the corner of his eye, wondering if it was really possible. If so, had Draco ever had such desires? Draco, however, looked faintly disgusted.
Belatedly, Els remembered he was Recording. Flushing with embarrassment, he fought to school his thoughts, to refocus them on the meeting.
"The mongrel is our insurance that Mink will remained – motivated – in his quest."
"You expect me to believe he would care that much for a mongrel? Iason Mink? Enough to betray a fellow Elite?"
"Yes," said Mika flatly. "We do."
All around the table, Els saw that same conviction and was stunned.
"You're a fool if you think he'll take this lying down," spat Jor. "He'll move heaven and earth to find that boy and once he does, he'll take him back and slaughter everyone who's holding him!"
"And how will he know who or where that is unless one of us tells him, eh?" asked Phillips with a cruel smile.
Jor turned an unattractive shade of red as, all around the table, faces turned toward him.
"And Jupiter approved this plan?" Draco asked.
"Why not? The Elite officer shrugged. "As long as Raoul is apprehended, Jupiter is content to leave matters to us. We are her Templars, are we not? Oh, I have no doubt that Mink will try to wriggle out of it, but in the end, he'll have no choice."
Draco's expression hardened. "This is all very interesting, sir, but I don't understand what it has to do with me."
"There is a chance," General Mika said, "that no matter how careful we may be, Mink may discover the mongrel's whereabouts and attempt to retrieve him by force. You will assume immediate responsibility for the pet's security until Iason has carried out our instructions."
Draco Brand was accustomed to guarding the lives and safety of two hundred thousand people. Even his pet, who understood very little about politics among the rich and powerful, knew this "re-assignment" was a slap in the face. Els held his breath, mouth gone dry.
"Excuse me?" Draco's voice was as calm as ever, but Els got a chill up his spine, hearing the edge. "You brought me all the way from Erba to play prison guard for Mink's whore while you indulge in this hair-brained scheme?"
"You're damn near insubordination, Major!" snapped Jor, straightening angrily in his chair.
The general scowled. "It may interest you to know that you were not the Committee's choice. Frankly, we are more than capable of guarding the mongrel ourselves. Jupiter named you specifically for this post. If you wish to object to the assignment, take it up with her."
Jupiter had wanted his master? Jupiter? Els could see that Draco, too, was taken aback by this information. The major stared from one man to the other, face gone thoughtful, almost remote.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because, as she put it – General Ko is dead. There is only Draco left."
"Indeed," came Phillips' unpleasant drawl, "the last of the Holy Warriors. Our dear, incorruptible Draco."
There was a holograph of General Hiyakawa Ko in their apartment back on Erba, an old, hawk-featured Blondie with kind eyes. Once head of this very Committee and a legend among the Templars, General Ko had also been Draco's mentor. Blondies had no family, but Draco always spoke of the general as one spoke of a beloved and respected uncle.
"Think of this as an opportunity for revenge," continued Phillips, eyes glinting, "It's not as if you have any love for Iason Mink, is it?"
Draco said nothing.
"Well?" Mika prompted.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you go back to Erba where you're doing such a fine job and we'll probably never see you again."
Obedience or permanent exile. The silence rang in the room. Els held his breath, wondering what Draco would decide. After several long, tense moments, Draco inclined his head. Tight-lipped, he said, "What are the particulars of the post, sir?"