Fortress
by Becca Abbott
Part 10
Iason closed his eyes on the faint ache in his temples and the sight of Katze moving around the room. Sleet beat against the sheeting they'd pushed over the gaping hole in the wall to keep out the worst of the wind, but it was still cold. The storm had caught them unawares, forcing them to seek what shelter they could. All they'd been able to find was a low building with most of its roof intact at the end of a dead-end street. It wasn't ideal, but it was dry and it was unoccupied, which meant they didn't have to fight for it.
Damn you, Raoul! You know I'm here! Talk to me!
Riki. An image of his lover rose to torment him, the great dark eyes, the body that moved so sweetly, so perfectly under his hands. Iason felt his own body react to the mere memory of it, a hot rush of passion that threatened to drown him. He stood up abruptly.
"Where are you going?"
"To look around."
"Why? Who the hell would be out there in this weather?"
Katze was right. It was stupid and unnecessary. He sat back down and refused to meet Katze's worried gaze. And Katze had a right to be worried, although not, Iason thought grimly, for the reasons the eunuch probably thought.
"Iason, are you all right?"
No. I am not all right. I need Riki. I need him now.
"Yes," he said aloud. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to get the damned heater going. I'm freezing."
Iason found himself unable to drag his eyes from Katze's profile, those clean, sharp features, the long line of his throat. A pretty man, Katze. Not pretty enough to be a pet, but still decorative. He'd been a Furniture, after all.
"Good idea," said Iason.
Katze gave him another puzzled look, then continued methodically fiddling with something on the small, compact unit.
Iason moved over to the edge of the room with their bikes and their supplies. He hunkered down against the wall and pulled his coat closer. When he had let Riki go back to Ceres the first time, these same, unnerving feelings had come creeping over him. He'd reeled Riki back in and those feelings had stopped. Now, however, Riki was not within his reach. Now the feelings were getting stronger and stronger.
Riki.
"Ah!" Katze had the temperamental device going. He held long hands close to it, smiling.
Iason thought about Katze's mouth opening to his. He imagined Katze on his hands and knees, moaning under Iason's heavy thrusts.
Take him. He's not Riki, but he'll do.
The thought fell into Iason's mind and exploded like some hideous bombshell. He clenched his jaw on the sudden rush of heat that followed it. Before he realized what he was doing, he was on his feet and moving toward Katze. Katze, unsuspecting, simply shifted over a bit, reckoning Iason wanted some of the heat, too.
Crouching beside him, Iason fought the waves of images that tumbled through his mind, images of Katze, of Riki, hot images, colored by lust. "Katze," he began, voice thick.
The thin face turned toward him. Iason could see the faint line of the scar under the tumble of red hair. He remembered how Katze had looked, sprawled on the floor of the condo, bleeding and terrified. Would he look like that if Iason were to act on the feelings that stormed through him now?
"Nothing," said Iason, getting to his feet and retreating to the wall. "Nothing."
"How much longer is he gonna be here?"
Draco looked up from his dinner. Across the table, his chin propped in one hand, Els looked back.
"The mongrel? I don't know."
"Is his master trying to get him back?"
"Yes." Draco set down his fork. "Why?"
"No reason," said Els airily. "Just curious."
"Mink is somewhere in the Wasteland, trying to make contact with Raoul. That's all I know."
"Is someone watching him?"
"Jupiter is."
"She is? From satellites?"
"That's right. All Elites have chips planted here..." Draco tapped his temple. "We can be located wherever we are on Amoi at any time."
Els looked amazed. "I didn't know that."
"There's a lot you don't know, imp." Draco pushed back his chair and, leaning over the kitchen table, gave that pert little nose a tweak. "By the way, a couple Committee members are driving in today. I may need you to Record."
"Really?" Els sat up. "Why are they coming?"
"Who knows? They won't be here long. Matters in Tanagura have become – problematic. Maybe they want to see for themselves that the mongrel is safe and sound."
"What does that mean – problematic?"
"Nothing that concerns pets." Draco wasn't about to tell the boy about the two dead Templars or the nervousness in Mika's voice when the general had spoken to him last night. No point in scaring him.
"Yes, sir," Els said, then, "Can I wear my new suit?"
Draco found himself pinned by a pair of pleading blue eyes. "If you wish," he agreed and left with Els' delighted whoop following him out the door.
He was going to get out of the apartment! Els all but danced back to his room after Draco had gone. Pulling open the closet door, he took out his suit. Clothes! He got to wear clothes! Carefully he lay it out on the bed. Now, if only he could wait until it was time for that meeting!
Sighing, Els sat down on the edge of his bed next to the suit. His eye lit on his art table. Getting up, he went over to it and pulled out his chair. The troublesome sketch of Draco lay in the middle where he'd left it in frustration the day before. It was the damned nose. Els shoved it over and pulled out a new sketch sheet.
Riki's master loved him. Even though he was a mongrel, in the end, Riki was a million times luckier than Els in that respect. Maybe, if he talked to Riki some more, he could find out what it was Riki possessed that made the Blondie fall in love. Was it the looks? The mongrel was really fine. It had taken Els some getting used to, but the more he saw of Riki, the more he realized it was true. All that black hair was kind of dramatic against the pale skin, and Riki's eyes, so very dark and with such thick eyelashes, seemed larger than most people's.
The boy dug through his pens and found the one he wanted. Thoughtfully, he chewed on its well-chewed end. Maybe it was a combination of looks and training and some kind of natural talent. When the mongrel moved, he had a kind of grace that tugged at Els' body. It wasn't very hard to imagine how someone daring and with a lot of power – someone like an important Blondie – might be interested.
Under his pen, the mongrel's face appeared. Els, startled, sat back. He hadn't meant to draw Riki, but now that he had, it wasn't a bad likeness. Rather pleased, the pet began to fill in the hair, trying to get the highlights right. Come to think of it, the black wasn't just black, there were other colors in it, too. What were they? Getting out of his chair, Els ran through the apartment to the prisoner's room.
Riki sat on his bed, like always, blanket around him like a shawl. He lifted his head at Els' approach. From under the fringe of that unusual hair, his unusual eyes were wary. "What do you want?"
"N-nothing." Suddenly embarrassed, Els turned away, but Riki said in a sad voice, "Do you have to go?"
"I'm doing something," replied Els, but lingered.
"Why won't he let me have anything to do? Even a book or something."
"I - I don't know. Have you asked?"
"No," Riki admitted, tucking his knees under his chin. "I hardly ever see him. He just comes, looks at me like he hates my guts and walks away."
"Well, you won't know if you don't ask."
"I guess." Riki shrugged. "I think it's Iason he hates. He almost said as much. Do you know why?"
Els shook his head.
"Could you bring me something?"
"N-not without his permission."
Riki stared at him a moment, then hunched his shoulders, burying his head in his arms. Something about the way he looked, all tight and miserable, made Els' heart go out to him.
"Your master, Iason – he's in some place called the Wasteland," the pet blurted out.
"W-what?" Riki's head came back up sharply, eyes getting very wide. "You asked?"
Els nodded. He hadn't meant to say anything yet. He still wasn't sure about the wisdom of his plan, but, "Draco said Iason was in the Wasteland and that they were monitoring his position, but that's all I could find out."
"He went? He's actually doing it?" Riki's gave a shaky little laugh and pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Iason," he whispered and ducked his head again, hiding his face.
What if it was me, wondered Els suddenly. How would I feel to be locked up and not know if I would ever see Draco again? It wasn't like the mongrel had done anything wrong to be imprisoned here. Yes, he was a mongrel, but that wasn't his fault either!
Riki lifted his head. "So I guess it's time for me to hold up my end of the deal, right?" He pushed the blanket away and stood up. His body was so beautiful.
Els' face heated. "N-no," he said hastily. "N-not yet. Draco wants me to Record a meeting. I have to be ready at any time for him to call."
"You came just to tell me?"
"I wanted to see what color your hair was," replied Els without thinking.
Riki's laugh was harsh. He sat down again, dragging the blanket back around him. "Are you blind?" he taunted. "I'm a mongrel."
"But it's not just black," retorted Els. "There's blue and purple and crimson. And when the angle's just right, there's even gold."
The mongrel's eyes widened, then narrowed sharply. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Bemused, he lifted a hand and fingered his dark locks. "Really?"
"Really," confirmed Els. It was going to be hard to get it right in his drawing. He wasn't even sure he had all the right colored pens. "I'll see you later," he called, and hurried back to his room to check.
Draco called Els late in the afternoon. "The meeting's set for eighteen hundred," he announced. "One of the cadets will be over to pick you up and escort you to the dining room."
Els took special care dressing, excited at the idea of seeing more of the Fortress. He carefully pressed his suit and put it on, studying himself critically in the mirror. Then, on impulse, he went back to the mongrel's cell.
"How do I look?" he asked anxiously from the doorway. The mongrel was in his usual place, huddled on the bed, staring at nothing.
"You look great," replied Riki, startled. "Time for the meeting, huh? What's it about?"
"I don't know."
Then, to Els' astonishment, the mongrel smiled at him. "Oh, well – have fun."
The Templar cadet who arrived to take him to the administration building seemed to think Els looked all right, too, for he flirted madly with the pet as they made their way through the snowy complex. After the humiliating encounter with Asher, the cadet's admiration did a lot to soothe his battered ego.
Els discovered quickly that his fashionable attire had never been meant to protect against the bitter cold and arrived in the small lobby outside the dining room with blue lips and chattering teeth. He let the cadet usher him solicitously to the nearest heater.
Draco arrived soon after that. The cadet colored furiously, saluted and hurried off. Draco watched him go, then lifted an eyebrow. Els' face heated, but he'd enjoyed the attention. On Erba, some of Draco's bolder young men had flirted, too. It had always been harmless, none of them daring take liberties with their commander's property. He'd missed that here.
"It will be the general, Phillips, Simms and Richards," Draco said. "I want you to sit near the corner of the room for this one. Simms and Richards don't know you're a Recorder yet. While I'm not going to hide it, I see no reason to draw attention to the fact, either."
"Yes, sir." This, too, reminded him of Erba. Sometimes, in delicate situations, people were less inhibited in their speech when there wasn't a Recorder staring them in the face. He followed Draco from the lobby into a small, but well-furnished – and warm! – dining room. It was already set up, white linen and silver on the big square table. Light spheres floated above it, rising and falling gently on the air currents. The walls were hung with heavy draperies, tied pulled back to reveal holo-walls depicting a view of a lush, mountain valley.
There was a chair in the corner of the room, tucked back by the drapes, half in shadow. Draco nodded to it. Els sat and brought out his mike, setting it on the broad, carved arm of his chair. The door opened. He started. It was Asher. The boy wore a slim, elegant tuxedo. His white hair was not gelled and spiked tonight, but lay in a smooth, shining cap against his head. The pet carried a tray with several bottles of wine.
From the look on Asher's face, Els' presence was a surprise to him, too. He stopped dead and spoke to Draco in a low voice. There was something about his posture, about the way he leaned against the Blondie as he spoke, that caused a queer lurch in Els' stomach. Draco shook his head. Asher continued to the table with his tray.
Els heard voices. A moment later, the door opened again, this time admitting the general and Lieutenant Richards. Simms and Colonel Phillips were not far behind. Asher withdrew after another quick look at Els.
As was his habit in meetings of this sort, Els let his hand rest, cupped, slightly above the microphone. He wasn't hiding it precisely; that would be illegal. He was simply making it less noticeable. The mike itself was an expensive and powerful model and would easily catch any sounds even through his clenched fist.
Automatically, Els input the names of the meeting attendees while they took their places around the table. The two Templar officers from Tanagura noted his presence with brief grimaces but no further comments. Richards and Simms darted several puzzled looks in his direction and Simms murmured a question to Draco, who said something back. Simms' eyes got big. He took a seat with his back to Els and did not look in the boy's direction again.
Simms, the post commander, took host duties, opening the wine. Asher returned, wheeling a covered cart. Again, the other pet's eyes darted to the corner of the room. Els could see that his presence disconcerted Asher. Still, Asher was Academy-trained, and he performed his duties as waiter flawlessly.
Els let the conversation wash into him, a part of his mind listening carefully and filing it away. Another part of him was fixed on Asher who, it seemed, was on excellent terms with Draco. How close he stood when he bent to pour Draco wine! His smile, when he offered Draco bread, held the disturbing warmth of familiarity. But how? He'd come to the apartment only once.
Of course, Asher was allowed to move freely around the base. Els knew that much. Was he allowed to come here to the administration building if he wished? He watched as the Academy pet left the dining room, slim, silk-clad behind swaying gracefully.
"...his game, damn it!"
Els snapped back to attention. The general, red faced, was pounding his fork on the table. "If he means to do what we say, what's the point in these killings?"
"You can ask, knowing that it's Iason Mink?" Phillip's voice was cool. "Since Jupiter hasn't moved to stop us, he knows damn well she's given her approval of our plan. Of course he will do as we say. But it seems he will also make certain that his displeasure is known. So far, I note, Jupiter hasn't moved to stop him, either."
"Then you think he will make no attempt to take back the mongrel – that these are merely vengeance killings?" asked Draco.
"MERELY?" sputtered Simms. "Damn it! He's killed Jor, he's killed Finn. It's not unreasonable to assume that we, as the mongrel's captors, are on his list, as well."
"What are you so worked up about?" Draco asked. "You knew it was possible that he'd seek revenge."
"How can you be so damned relaxed about it?"
"Because I don't mean to be killed by his hired thugs," replied Draco shortly. "What steps are you taking to stop him? Have you identified his allies? His contacts?"
"We don't have the resources," snarled the general. "This is Iason Mink, damn it! Where doesn't he have an agent or ally? The one person who might have answered such a question has gone into the Wasteland with him."
"What about the mongrel?"
"Him?" Phillips' laughed. "Please. Would you tell your pet all your business?" The man looked over at Els, who tried to become part of the wall. The Templar's mouth twisted into a sneer. "Oh, but wait – perhaps you would."
"The mongrel was questioned extensively while he was under the influence of our drugs," replied the general. "Beyond a few minor black market concerns, he knows very little. No, I'm afraid we're at a disadvantage in this game of cat-and-mouse. The Committee met two days ago to discuss the situation and we think the best thing to do is to move him to another location."
They would be moving again? Els thought of repacking everything and had to stifle a sigh.
"How soon before we're to leave?" asked Draco. "And what about my classes? They've been scheduled through the next three weeks. There should be time to arrange substitute lecturers. To just pick up and leave would not be fair to the cadets."
"You won't be coming," said Phillips. "We're changing jailers, too."
Draco stiffened. Els bit his lip, seeing that tall body go rigid.
"It's nothing against you, Brand!" the general said hastily. "Quite the contrary, man! You've done a first-rate job! First rate! You'll stay on, of course, and finish your lectureship. After that, we'll talk about where you go next. Either back to Erba, if you like, or we can discuss something closer to home..."
"Jupiter put me here," Draco interrupted. "Are these her orders, as well?"
There was a moment's telling silence. Els realized he was holding his breath. Draco's jaw tightened.
"She has not objected," the general said finally, but his eyes slid away from Draco.
"Does she know?"
"We don't have to clear every damn thing with Jupiter!" Phillips snapped, leaning forward. "This place is compromised, Brand! Mink knows he's here!"
"Jupiter took the trouble to name me to this post. When she orders me to stand down, then I will do so."
"You are a Templar and you will follow orders," Phillips snapped.
Draco looked from man to man. The two Fortress officers were clearly nervous to be caught in the cross-fire. They ducked their head and pretended interest in their food.
"Very well," said Draco. "But recall that I objected to the reassignment on those grounds and, recall as well, gentleman, that the protest is logged." He jerked a head toward Els' corner of the room.
The General looked as if he might speak, then clamped his jaws shut. Phillips' blue eyes fixed on Els and the boy's stomach lurched at what he saw there.
"Very well," grated Mika finally. "We will formally present the matter to Jupiter before implementing the plan. I trust that will remove any objections?"
Draco inclined his head with a small smile. "Yes, sir. It would. Thank you, sir."
Somehow, Els had a feeling the mongrel wasn't going anywhere.