The journey itself, is freedom
by Ainzfern
22
Sighing disconsolately as he sat in the plush rear section of the pre-arranged limousine that had collected him from the main capital city's space port on Elldaren Prime, Sir Tahna Lam of Amoi, head of the powerful Amoian Syndicate's department of Arts and Antiquities, took his first albeit brief look around at the world that was to become his home for at least the next twelve months.
With his rich mouth pursed pensively and his normally smooth brow delicately creased with thought, he turned his perfect countenance and startlingly beautiful violet eyes towards the cityscape gliding past the tinted window. Tahna had to admit, quite frankly, even in spite of the fact that the capital of the planet was inexcusably known by the blatantly unimaginative moniker of 'Elldaren City' – a crime for which at least one city planner should have been executed – the overall architectural design and layout of the place was... not too shabby actually, he thought with genuine surprise.
For an uncivilized federation planet, that was.
He'd seen worse.
The streets were wide and the boulevards spacious. Elegantly landscaped parks featuring stately trees and flower-filled garden beds interspersed the civic centers and business districts at regular intervals. The buildings were a mix of modern design and historic charm, the combination either succeeding or failing to compliment clearly dependant on location and sub-council restrictions. In the inner-city areas where designing architects had bothered to make an effort, the old and new structured elements blended well. In the industrial zones further out from the centre, the combinations were not so triumphant.
Still... Tahna shrugged lightly and pulled a pragmatic little face as he turned to look to the front of the vehicle once more. As he'd already decided, he had seen worse.
Of course, this was just the central business district, the political and commercial heart. Tahna had yet to see, let alone pass a considered judgment upon, the more spacious suburban locations for aesthetic appeal.
But judge them he would, one could have no doubt about that.
Leaning forwards slightly, Tahna addressed his scrupulously neat and polite driver with his velvet voice. "Tell me... how much further until we reach the Houses of Parliament?" he asked, a tiny frown forming. "I am sure that when my Furniture arranged your services he would have impressed upon your office that I am rather anxious to arrive as soon as possible."
The driver cleared his throat nervously. "Um... he did Sir Tahna, quite emphatically. But I am pleased to say that we are nearly there. Perhaps five more minutes at the most?"
"I see," Tahna sighed softly and sat back. "Very well, then. But please don't tarry any more than is necessary. I don't want to have to become vexed."
His driver swallowed audibly. "Of course, Sir Tahna."
Gazing once more out of the window, the elegant Blondie continued to ponder his experiences since arriving on Elldaren Prime. As a rule, the population of the federation's core planet wasn't exactly used to encountering and dealing with Amoian Elites, that much was very evident. The gob-smacked staring, disturbingly redolent of the average village idiot, that Tahna had been forced to endure as he had strode his long legged and graceful way through the space port terminus was proof enough of that. But he supposed this was only to be expected. The Elite of Amoi did not generally travel to regions outside of Amoian territory. They made others come to them. Thus, while the people of the federation had certainly heard about Elites, most of them had never actually seen one in the flesh.
Tahna smirked smugly as he considered the idea that he really had achieved things that no other Elite had even dared to contemplate. Quite frankly, with that thought in mind, he could barely wait for news of his pending espousal to a federation citizen to become known amongst the wider Elite populace.
Dear God, they were going to be scandalized.
Tahna thought about that for a few moments, before nodding to himself in a deeply satisfied way. Seriously... what a delightful notion that was.
"Sir Tahna?" His driver's diffident voice broke though Tahna's contemplations. "We have arrived at the Houses of Parliament. I've brought you directly to the secure VIP entrance generally used by visiting dignitaries."
"Ah. Excellent." Tahna collected himself as the driver hopped out and rounded the car to open his door, straightening his sash-coat over his broad shoulders and ensuring that everything looked acceptable.
As he rose gracefully from the vehicle, towering over the man who had brought him here, Tahna considered his appearance with contentment. In comparison to the bulk of the inhabitants he'd seen thus far, his height alone made him stand out, without even counting the pale perfection of his features or the long limbed elegance of his body. Chey Neeson was tall man, descended of a line blessed with substantial height but as for the greater population, while they were by no means tiny, an Elite stood at least a good head above most of them. Then there was his traditionally Amoian attire, all dove grey silks and stunning emerald green velvet, his Syndicate crest polished to a dazzling shine and his wealth of pale golden hair brushed to gleaming.
He was absolutely beautiful and he damned-well knew it.
His rich mouth curved into a sultry little smile as he strode swiftly towards the grand entrance, nodding regally if somewhat arrogantly as the doors were literally wrenched open by the uniformed guards to allow him to pass.
Chey's eyes were going to fall out when they saw him.
Of course, Tahna noted almost absently as he walked across the huge and vaulted-ceilinged lobby, leaving a wave of sprung jaws and wide eyes in his wake, so were everybody else's in this so-called sophisticated political hub.
Which was all very flattering, he supposed, but in all truth... they really didn't matter.
As he closed the distance toward the bank of lifts that would no doubt take him to the office levels, Sir Tahna Lam of Amoi was every inch the tall and impressive Blondie Elite; exuding enough confidence to float a continent and projecting the kind of self-assurance that one could bend a steel bar around. That he did not actually know where Chey's offices were was of little concern. He was quite certain, judging by the amount of helpfully smiling and obsequious little people scuttling towards him, that he would find someone who was able to assist with all due haste.
Tahna smiled loftily, drawing his breath in and his broad shoulders back.
...because if he didn't, then God help them.
There was one tiny delay when Tahna reached the reception area outside of Chey's ministerial office but, fortunately for all parties involved, Chey Neeson's exquisite sense of organization, and his admirable ability for planning ahead, smoothed any potential bumps out of Tahna's welcome.
"I'm sorry," a rather firm and currently disembodied female voice informed him as he sauntered towards the main desk, "but Minister Neeson is currently in a conference call and will not be taking any appointments for at least the next thirty minutes."
Arching an elegant brow, Tahna reached the large desk and looked down over it. He was immediately treated to the sight of what was obviously Chey's secretary, hunkering down and sorting through the lower filing cabinet draws with a preoccupied frown on her face. She was reasonably attractive, Tahna noted, but in a certain Librarian-ish kind of way. Early fifties, he guessed, with her graying hair carefully styled and wearing a good suit over a neat figure.
Yes. He approved. An attractive woman, who added an aesthetic air to the office, yet seemed quite capable of doing the job properly.
At least, Tahna smiled to himself, amused at the situation, she would be once she stood up again.
"If you would care to return shortly," she slammed the drawer shut and looked up, "I'd be very happy to book you in— whoa. Oh, my goodness." Her eyes widened as she rose gracefully to her feet, a small smile forming on her face. "Sir Tahna Lam?" she raised a carefully penciled brow at him.
Tahna drew himself up to his full height, nodding graciously if somewhat haughtily at her. "I am," he murmured.
To her credit, although a light blush colored her cheeks, she pretended with great aplomb that it hadn't happened. "Welcome to Elldaren Prime, Sir. I'm Ellen, the Minister's personal assistant."
"Charmed, I'm sure." Tahna's full lips quirked. "Just as I am also sure the Minister would have told you all about me?"
"Ah. Yes," Ellen's mouth twitched as if with some secret delight. "At great length, as a matter of fact, and..." she winked at him, "as I am not a fool, nor the owner of a death-wish, I am going to buzz you right through the doors to Minister Neeson's office."
"Excellent." Tahna bowed his head with an exquisitely urbane gesture of appreciation, impressed that his lover had retained a staff member with such notable good common sense. "A most intelligent choice."
Ellen smiled again. "Just go right through the anteroom," she instructed him by way of farewell. "His office is through the second set of doors."
"Thank you."
Entering the office beyond the anteroom, Tahna immediately saw his lover, standing at one of the huge windows that dominated one entire side of the office. Chey was facing away from the door, and subsequently Tahna, his hands clasped loosely at the small of his back as he continued his discussions with the person on the other end of the teleconferenced uplink. With a tiny smile and a slightly wicked glint in his beautiful eyes, Tahna stilled and remained silent, resolving on an impulse just to observe.
He hadn't seen Chey at work before. It ought to be very interesting.
"... why your company's submission to build the northern New Vincentia mono-rail network has been declined?" Chey had been saying as Tahna walked in, "Well, quite frankly Mr. Orman, that's easy. One glance at the project report was enough to see that the sums don't add up. Oh, you've got the money accounted for in all the right columns, but from what I can see in the actual specifications you've only allocated about half the budget allowed to the venture. What are you planning to do with the rest? Pay for the hospital treatment that your workers are going to need if they end up employed on the project?"
"Hey... Now, listen – Minister Neeson... Chey," the voice that replied was clearly trying to sound friendly and pleasant, even jovial. However, the effect that was occurring was more in the nature of wheedling and petulant. The comparison did not work very well.
Tahna felt his eyes narrow, his eclectic nature immediately taking an instant dislike to whoever this Mr. Orman was. Honestly, did the man think Chey was a fool? Did he really think the little harmless act was going to work?
"You're being a little dramatic there, don't you think?" Mr. Orman was continuing. "And while we're at it, why don't you drop the 'Mister' business, eh? Call me Charlie. After all we're old University buddies aren't we? Y'know... same year, same house?"
"Hmm," Chey tilted his head to one side. "I don't remember us ever being buddies, Charlie," he replied smoothly.
"Ah well... memory fades, I guess. But I recall you had a flair for the dramatic back then, that's for sure." Charlie's tone grew openly sly. "I guess that's why you went into politics, huh? Now... seriously, I can get my chief engineer to go through the details with you. He can point out the—"
"I don't need an engineer to point out the glaringly obvious to me, thanks all the same," Chey cut Charlie off firmly.
"Now, with all due respect, Chey," Tahna could clearly hear the tension, the terse anger in Charlie's tone now, "you're a politician, a guy who wears a suit. I think it's reasonable to say that when it comes to project specs, you wouldn't exactly be an exper—"
"And with equal due respect, Mr. Orman," Chey literally purred as he smoothly cut Charlie off again, returning quite pointedly to the use of the man's surname, "if you remembered me half as well as you say you do, you'd recall that my family have been in major construction for generations. Believe me; I do know what I'm looking at. I am looking at a potential disaster."
"You're quite self-righteous, Neeson. Anyone ever tell you that?" Charlie's voice suddenly lost all of its former false joviality. There was a clear note of frustrated dislike there.
Always a good sign, Tahna nodded in silence and arched an approving brow. Chey had clearly won the exchange. Now all that remained was for the evident ignoramus known as 'Charlie' to catch up with reality.
Utterly unmoved by the insult, Chey's shoulders relaxed even further as he leant his rump back against the edge of his desk, the tilt of his head as he looked out of the window hinting that, unseen as yet by Tahna, he was almost certainly grinning his rather shapely backside off. "Yes, Orman. I've been told that before... generally by other silly asses who didn't like the truth being thrown at them."
"How dare—? You've got a damned nerve, Nees—"
"You wanted to know why I turned down your company's bid?" Chey's voice suddenly grew flat and cold, a tone that brooked no more nonsense. "Well, I have told you. Your project overview cuts so many corners that if you could even get the site prepared without someone being killed it would be a miracle. Your suggested materials are sub-standard, your work-crew numbers are far too small and, as a result, their shifts will be too long and mistakes will be made."
"But, yo—"
"This is a government funded public works program," Chey easily ran right over the weak objection without so much as pausing for breath, "designed to improve the infrastructure of the northern region of New Vincentia's economy. I am not going to have you turn it into a death trap that ends up killing dozens, quite possibly more, of the continent's young men and women." He pushed away from the desk, rising to his feet and setting his broad shoulders firmly. "I'm going to give you a window of opportunity, Mr. Orman," he went on, his voice level and cold. "You've got seven days until the closure date for your reworked application to be considered. Out of deference to the fact that under your late father's directorship Orman Construction used to be a hell of a good operation, I'm willing to wait to see if you're capable of performing to the same high standards. Reach into your hypothetical pockets, Mr. Orman... pull out all the fat that you skimmed off the top and sides of the budgetary allocation and return it to the project where it will actually do some good. There will still be enough left over for a reasonable gratuity for you and, really, the knowledge that you're actually doing the right thing for the first time in your life should soften the blow a little. Any questions?"
Charlie's deep and offended silence was well nigh deafening.
"Good." Chey moved to the window, slipping his hands into his pants pockets as he gazed out over the city below. "I'm looking forward to seeing what your team can come up with. If it's within acceptable standards, only then will I add it to the shortlist for consideration by the panel."
"Right," Charlie's words sounded as though they were being gritted out through clenched teeth. "Yes. Well... thank you for being so clear, Minister. I will talk to my engineers again and see if I can convince them that their first attempt needs to be revised."
Chey snorted softly, his disbelief quite clear. "Ah... lazy engineers, was it? I thought it had to be something like that."
Charlie cleared his throat, his discomfort clear even over the teleconference link. "Seven days then."
"Seven days, Mr. Orman." Chey confirmed flatly.
Without further word Charlie terminated the call even as Chey huffed a dry chuckle and shook his head, leaning against the side sill of the picture window that overlooked the city centre.
Watching him with cat-like fascination, Tahna began to slowly close the distance between them, his steps silent upon the plush carpeting. He had to admit, he had thoroughly enjoyed watching Chey laying down the law to that dreadful man who was obviously a dimwit... and quite possibly a criminal to boot. It was an element of Chey that he hadn't hereto experienced and he had to confess that he liked it.
A lot.
Quite frankly there was something incredibly attractive about the man when he was being intimidating. It was unexpected, but Chey wore it very well. Tahna actually felt a slow warm surge of arousal begin to pulse through his nether regions and he shook his head wryly, his full lips quirking into a sardonic little half-smile.
If he had ever doubted that Chey Neeson was absolutely the right mate for him, he doubted no longer.
He cleared his throat delicately, his internal smug factor skipping up a notch as Chey turned to look at him, an openly stunned expression on his handsome face. "Blondie? What..?" Chey blinked then grinned broadly, recovering his equilibrium with his usual aplomb as he rounded his desk and closed the short distance between them with swift strides. As he pulled Tahna into his arms, covering the Elite's lips with his in a warm kiss of welcome and affection, Tahna found himself almost instinctively melting into it. Even as his inner sense of Elite propriety turned up its perfect nose in disdain at such a reaction, Tahna found himself absently comparing the embrace to cool water quenching desperate thirst or to respite after hard labor.
He could feel it renewing him.
"Well this is lovely surprise," Chey's sharp blue eyes sparkled with unfettered delight as he drew back a little and looked his Blondie over, drinking him in with quite evident pleasure on his face. "When did you get planet-side?"
Forcing his long fingers to release their ridiculously convulsive clutch upon Chey's broad shoulders, Tahna lifted his chin and pinned his lover with a steady gaze. "I came directly from the spaceport," he replied, garnering a measure of seriousness into his silken voice. "There was a matter of some urgency, Chey, that I could no longer avoid discussing with you."
"I see," Chey lifted a dark brow at him, his warm hands gently slipping down the length of Tahna's upper arms to curl loosely around his elbows, not quite willing to release him just yet. "This sounds a little serious," he noted.
"It is," Tahna wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. "I've thought of very little else, as a matter of fact. But I have come to the conclusion that I at least owed it to you to do this in person."
Obviously noting his suddenly solemn demeanor, Chey's shoulders tensed. Just slightly, but it was definitely there. The blue eyes that held Tahna's grew a touch wary, even anxious. "Okay," he murmured, his voice soft and calm. "Okay... tell me."
Tahna shot him a disdainful little look down the length of his perfect nose, his mouth pursing into a classically haughty moue. "Yes," he said firmly.
"Uhm..." Chey blinked, giving the Blondie an odd little look of hope and caution. "Do you mean 'yes' as in—?"
Tahna cut him off with an impatient huff. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Mr. Neeson, do you need it engraved?" He shook his head, ever despairing of the absentminded tendencies of non-enhanced humans. "Yes to relocating, yes to the secondment at the university, and..." his smile softened, his beautiful eyes becoming unguarded and luminous with feeling, "...yes to you," he added quietly.
Chey stared at him for a moment, before a broad smile appeared on his handsome face. "Well," he murmured, his arms unerringly sliding around Tahna's graceful waist, "it's about damned time."
The Elite felt his eyes narrowing dangerously. "That's it?" he asked flatly, "I come all this way to give you exactly what you wanted and all you can say is —mmphh!"
Tahna's irritated reply was sweetly smothered as Chey covered the Blondie's parted lips with his, landing the kind of kiss on him that could have melted a polar ice cap. Never one to pass up an opportunity to inflict a bit of polite ruffling up of this particular man, no matter how he might affect indifference, Tahna responded with equal fervor. His long fingers sank into the thick satin-soft hair at the nape of Chey's neck as he gripped his lover close, enjoying the feel and the heat of him, enjoying his own body's delightfully aroused response to having him so close. One long leg hooked around the back of Chey's legs, bringing the rapidly rising warmth of Tahna's body into delicious contact with some of the more interesting parts of Chey's sturdy anatomy.
Breaking the kiss slowly, regretfully, Chey lifted both hands to cup Tahna's perfect face. The sheer affection, the depth of love that the Elite saw in those blue eyes both amazed and touched him.
Privately, of course. Although he suspected Chey knew, overly-clever wretch that he was.
"So, I gather that my decision does please you?" Tahna asked, his expression artfully bland. Again, to his enduring disgust, even he heard the tiny note of tension in his own voice.
Chey's rich chuckle filled the room for a moment. He nodded, brushing a series of delicate kisses along the line of Tahna's jaw. "Please me?" he murmured as he worked his way down the pale length of the Elite's graceful neck, one hand sinking into that heavy wealth of satiny hair. "Oh yes, Tahna Lam. It does. Can't you tell?"
"Actually, I am picking up one or two subtle indications, yes," Tahna tilted his head back, giving Chey a little more access while he quivered at the lovely sensations that shimmered across his skin. He frowned slightly after a moment or two, something occurring to him. "Uh... Chey, dear?"
"Mmm?" Those warm hands reached down and cupped Tahna's shapely rump, pulling him even closer.
"Are you... Ah!" Tahna gasped as Chey bit gently at the soft skin at the base of his throat. "Are you... sniffing me?"
Chey drew in another slow deep inhalation, releasing it with a low sultry chuckle. "Yes."
"Oh," Tahna smiled slightly, an elegant brow arching even as he closed his eyes and relaxed into Chey's undeniably talented touch. "Did you know... that's strangely arousing?"
"Mmm. You ought to try it from my end," Chey kissed him soundly, tasting the sweetness of his mouth with delicate tickling strokes of a dexterous tongue before pulling back again to smile at him, his square jawed face flushed with sincere happiness. "Seriously, Blondie, what in the hell do you do that makes you smell so good?"
Tahna sniffed at him. "I'm sure I have no idea," he replied, tossing his hair back with a disdainful little tilt of his chin. He sobered again, easing his elegant hands up and over Chey's shoulders to link his fingers together behind his lover's neck. "Now... tell me, Mr. Neeson," he began softly, "as your government's wretched budgetary debates are now over..?" he arched a querying brow at Chey's smiling face.
The Minister nodded, relief whispering over his features. "Yesterday, as a matter of fact."
"So, if I were to insist that you quit these hallowed halls of caucus in my company this very instant, do you think that any of your erstwhile colleagues would dare to try and stop me?"
Chey tilted his head, smiling as he considered it. "Well. Depends. Did you happen to talk to any of them on the way in?"
Tahna lifted a dismissive shoulder. "Oh... one or two."
Chey snorted. "Then, taking into account how quickly news gets around in this place, I would say the answer to your question would be a very clear and frankly terrified 'no', my love."
"Ah." Satisfied, Tahna nodded. "Good. Then take me out of here, Mr. Neeson. We have plans to make."
Chey quickly grabbed his coat before leading Tahna to the door, one hand gentle and warm upon his elbow, urbanely guiding him as always. "But, of course, Tahna Lam," he told his irascible Blondie with absolute adoration infusing his deep warm voice. "Anything you wish."
The journey itself... – chapter 21 << >> The journey itself... – chapter 23