Fortress
by Becca Abbott
Part 9
Iason sat at the grimy table, the ruins of dinner before him, brooding stare fixed on some point in space. There were only a few patrons in the bar, although Katze had seen at least a dozen men come in, see Iason's golden head, and turn straight around again. In a little while, after being seen by as many people as possible, he and Katze would get up and go spend another night in a damp, run-down, vermin-infested room.
It had been over two weeks since the Templars had taken Riki. He and Iason moved from settlement to settlement, never spending more than a few nights in each place, hoping to spread the news of their presence as widely as possible. It was uncomfortable and dangerous. Katze hated it, but worse, Iason was beginning to show the strain. Whether or not the Blondie chose to believe it, Riki had gentled him. Without Riki, the old Iason was gradually resurfacing, demanding, cold, focused. And there was something new, something that made Katze increasingly uneasy. So far, it was nothing he could put a finger on, only an uneasy feeling when he looked at the Blondie.
"That's it," said Iason. He rose abruptly. At the few occupied tables, heads remained resolutely turned away, but everyone was aware of every move they made. Katze left payment on the table and followed Iason up creaking metal stairs to the second floor of their latest "hotel." Seemingly unconcerned, the Blondie stepped over the litter piled up in the ill-smelling corridor, going straight to the door of their room.
Their bikes were still there, taking up most of the small space. Once inside, Katze locked the door as Iason went to one of two narrow beds and sat down on the far side of it. Rummaging through their bags, he found his computer and set it up. Katze settled on the other bed and tried without being obvious to see what Iason was doing. It looked like the Blondie was going through the disks they'd brought, but he couldn't be sure. Iason kept his back between Katze eunuch and his screen. Finally, giving up, Katze rolled over.
"How much longer are we going to do this?" he asked.
"As long as it takes."
"What if Raoul never bites?"
"He will."
"He may have changed a lot, Iason. This place is – I can't imagine living out here and not being affected. I always thought Ceres was rough, but the Wasteland makes it seem like a model of community order and sanitation."
"The Wasteland won't change Raoul."
"Are you saying Raoul hasn't changed?" scoffed Katze. "He changed more than you did."
"Love changed Raoul. Love and sex. There is no more powerful mixture. The Wasteland had nothing to do with it."
Katze looked around, startled at the vehemence in the low voice. Iason's shoulders were rigid and he was staring at the computer screen. For a second, the hair on the back of Katze's neck stood straight up.
Once, a long time ago, he had been a bored young Furniture for a very powerful Blondie, one with computer access to the highest level of Jupiter. He'd seen things there he should have never seen, and hints of other things he'd never had time to explore because Iason had found him out and ended it. There had been files about the genetic design of Blondies, about the physical compromises made to create them, the deliberate genetic errors tolerated because of the advantages the side effects of those errors produced. Katze wished suddenly that it had been those files he had most closely explored and not the others.
"Iason?"
"Get some sleep, Katze." The deep voice was soft, measured. "I have work to do."
It was some sixth sense that made Riki roll over and look across the room. Els sat cross-legged on the floor just outside the force-door, blanket wrapped around his naked shoulders. Riki wondered what time it was. It felt late and he thought it had been a few hours since his so-called dinner, but he couldn't be sure.
"Hi," said the pet tentatively. "Did you mean what you said a while back about a truce?"
Riki sat up and regarded Els stonily. That had been quite a while back. The boy held his gaze without flinching. It was Riki, sick to death of his isolation, who unbent first. "Depends."
"Fair enough. You gotta promise not to say anything about this to Draco."
Now curious, Riki nodded. He got up and came as close to the door as his chain would allow. Sinking to his haunches, he faced the boy through the laser screen. Els looked tired. The pretty face was pale and those startling, sunlit blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy. When he spoke, however, his voice was steady enough. "You belong to a Blondie, too, right?"
"Yes."
"You got formal training?"
Riki nodded, wondering where all this was leading.
The hands that clutched the blanket whitened. Els said, "I want you to teach me that stuff." Riki started to laugh. Els' eyes sparked, but he held his tongue. Riki's laughter faded and he frowned, remembering the pet's fury and shame when Brand had ordered Riki to suck his cock.
"I'd have to touch you," he reminded the boy mockingly. "Could you stand it?"
Now color tinged those perfect cheekbones. Jupiter, but the boy was a looker! If he had been Academy trained he would have commanded a high price on the legit market and a fortune elsewhere.
"I-I don't care. You're really good and I want to improve myself! I want to learn how to do stuff like an Academy pet!"
Riki thought about his own training and what a nightmare it had been – a mongrel in the midst of all those haughty, malicious brats. "Why should I help you?" he asked, turning away. His hand crept to his cock and the pet ring that hugged it uncomfortably. "Besides, your Blondie would kill me."
"He won't find out! He works all day. I – I'll see if I can get you more blankets! And better food."
It was tempting. Riki's heart thumped, but he wasn't that stupid. "Forget it!"
Els' face fell. He shrugged and turned to go. Then he hesitated, looking back. "What's your name?" asked the pet.
No one had cared about his name; he was only "mongrel," or "scum," and he stood like an idiot, just staring. "Riki," he said finally.
Els nodded and was gone.
Draco was busy, bent over his computer, lines of concentration drawn between his slim, straight eyebrows. It was snowing again, white flakes whirling out of the dark to melt against the window.
Els lingered at the doorway, drinking in the sight of him. The Blondie, eyes fixed firmly on the monitor, lifted a finger and absently rubbed at the side of his nose. Wishing he were bold enough to go in and flirt the way he'd seen Asher do it, Els turned away and traipsed back to his room.
He didn't feel like drawing. Dispirited, he lay back on his bed, pulling one of his comforters over him. What a disaster the other night had been! If only he'd been properly trained he could have held his own against that slut. But Asher had made him look like some fumbling virgin. Els' face heated and he squirmed at the memory.
If the mongrel would teach him Academy skills, then surely Draco would ask for performances more often. Maybe he would even want to touch Els like that himself.
Els sucked in a quick breath. It was such a potent fantasy, no longer impossible. A Blondie could desire a pet, could fall in love! Was it so terrible to hope for it?
There had to be something the mongrel wanted badly enough to agree to Els' proposition!
Riki. The mongrel had a name.
I'd have to touch you. Could you stand it?
Els remembered the night Riki had kissed his feet and sucked him. It had shaken his world. He hadn't known it was possible to be so transported by such an ordinary act. Now he lay on his bed and his hand crept between his legs as heat gathered there. He saw Riki's face, the fierce eyes and unexpectedly gentle mouth.
"I can stand it," Els whispered into his silent bedroom.
When Riki woke the next day, it was to the usual morning smell of coffee. He lay still on his bed, thinking about Els' startling proposition and wondering if he'd been foolish to turn the pet down. He heard the boy's laughter followed by a deeper voice. Something clattered and there was more laughter. Riki rolled over to face the wall and remembered waking up with Iason. Sometimes, Iason wouldn't even let Riki get out of bed, but pulled him back, whispering that he didn't need breakfast as long as he had Riki.
Iason...
After awhile, silence fell. The master had gone off to work. Riki was beginning to learn the rhythms of this household, even though he was apart from most of it. Now began the long, silent stretch until dinner.
"Riki?"
Startled, the mongrel rolled over. Els stood in the doorway, a tray in his hand. For a moment, Riki was disoriented. Was it dinner time? Had he become that turned around in this place?
"Want some breakfast?"
Warily, Riki sat up. "If you're trying to change my mind, you might as well take it back," he replied, but the smell of the food came tantalizingly through the force-door, filling his mouth with water.
"I'm not," replied Els. "It was left over. I didn't want to throw it away."
Riki shrugged, pretending indifference, but his heart lifted in spite of his determination not to be moved. He watched Els come in, set the tray down in its usual spot and retreat to the corridor. The boy didn't leave, however, but hunkered down and watched as Riki came over to investigate.
Coffee, eggs and thick slices of buttered toast with sibble berry jam. With another suspicious look at Els, Riki returned to the bed and started eating.
"How did you end up as a Blondie's pet?"
Everything tasted really good. The kid could cook. Riki said, "I tried to steal a car and got caught. They were kicking the shit out of me when Iason happened to be driving by and stopped them. I – didn't want to owe a Blondie anything, so I invited him to a nearby love hotel and offered him use of my body."
"Huh? Why?"
"It was all I had."
Els' eyes were very round. "You whored yourself?"
"Yeah." Riki heard the defensive note that crept into his voice and wondered at it. Why did he care what the brat thought?
"Oh. Did he ask you to be his pet then?"
"Ask me?" Riki laughed. "Are you serious?"
"But..."
"This is Iason Mink we're talking about," Riki retorted. "He had me picked up off the street afterwards and that was that."
"You mean you didn't want to be a pet?"
"Fuck no."
Els was staring at him, eyes round as saucers. To Riki's astonishment, he saw sympathy in them. Irritated he looked away. Did the kid actually think Riki didn't see through this blatant pretense at friendship?
"Neither did I," said Els finally, low-voiced.
"Then why are you?"
"My father was a miner. He made a lot of money, so much that he could buy two sons. But the company he worked for went under and his money ran out. He couldn't afford to keep both me and my older brother anymore. I was the second son, the – the luxury. So he sold me."
There was pain there, carefully buried and glossed over. Riki looked around. The boy was staring at the floor, beautiful mouth tight. Then he gave himself a little shake and looked up.
"It wasn't really that bad," continued Els, chin tilting with a trace of defiance. "I mean, he could have sold me to the waste plant or one of the other mines or anywhere. Bein' a pet was easy compared to some of those jobs."
"So how long has Brand had you?"
"Two years!" The boy's face brightened. "He's really kind and I've learned so much! I didn't get to go to school, so he taught me how to read and do numbers and all kinds of things. He even made me a Recorder – see?" Els reached up and pushed back a handful of the crimson hair to expose the tiny gold port in his temple.
Riki was impressed, although he had no intention of saying so. Not just anyone could be a Recorder. You had to be smart and flexible. "You like him," Riki said instead.
Els nodded enthusiastically, then sobered. He stared uncertainly at Riki, then looked down at his knees.
"What is it?" Riki asked. Maybe the kid really didn't have ulterior motives. Maybe he was as lonely as Riki.
"I was wondering – I mean, I've heard – they say..."
Riki waited.
Els took a deep breath and plunged on. "They say that your Blondie fucks you – that you don't just perform for him. Is it true?"
There was a queer blend of shock and hope in those bright eyes. Riki, ready to tell Els it was none of his damned business, shut his mouth with a snap. "Yes," he said finally.
"But you don't like it?"
"I didn't say that."
"You just said you didn't want to be a pet!"
"That was in the beginning. Things changed. We fell in love."
Color touched those fine features. "You're so lucky," Els breathed. "Even though you're a mongrel, he loves you?"
"Yeah. Amazing, huh?"
The color deepened. "S-sorry. It's just that, well, I'm only a colony boy, so most people here look down on me, too."
Again, Riki had to bite back his retort. There were no mongrels outside of Tanagura. Els had no idea what prejudice was.
"When did you know that your master was in love with you?" Els asked.
When he died for me. But that was probably more than the boy would believe. So Riki just smiled and shrugged. How much did Els know about Iason, he wondered? Hesitantly, he asked, "Does your master talk about us? Does he talk about Iason?"
"Sometimes."
"Do you know what's going on?"
"A little." Els looked uneasy. "It's Draco's business."
Riki's heart started thumping. "But you know," he persisted. "You know something, right? Or you can find out?"
Els got to his feet, eyes darting down the corridor. Riki jumped up, too, suddenly desperate. "Wait!"
"I can't! It's not my place to say anything! It's Templar business!"
"I'll do what you want! I'll show you things that I learned at the Academy! Please!"
The boy froze. He turned back, uneasy, but interested.
Riki swallowed hard. "An exchange," he said, lowering his voice, unsure of whether Brand was in the apartment or not. "What I know for what you know. That's fair, isn't it? I won't repeat anything you tell me! Come on, Els! What if it were you in here and Draco out there somewhere. How would you feel?"
"It's not me!" fired back the boy and fled, leaving Riki behind with his hopes tumbling around him.