The Other Side

by Shayne

Part I: Distant Thunder

1

Fire. It ran molten fingers over his body, streamed from a mouth opened permanently in a silent scream. He burned inside and out, his skin a searing brand, his organs live coals.

"Riki. Riki, please, you must wake up and drink."

Who? He knew that voice. His memory strained to recall something other than the roar of the flames.

"Riki. Pet, please. Do this for me. You must."

Iason. That voice... Iason needed him. Needed him to—what? Open his eyes. Yes.

Straining his lids, he forced them slowly up. And the fire consumed him. Burning white burst on his newly-opened eyes and he cried out, tears of pain streaming down his face. Then blessedly, the light was doused and strong, careful arms gathered him against a hard chest. A trembling hand smoothed sweat-drenched hair back from his brow.

"Oh love. I'm so sorry. I forgot about the light."

The hands lifted him so he leaned against the other man's chest and a glass was pressed against his cracked lips. When the cool liquid within touched his mouth, he gulped greedily, suddenly aware of the overwhelming thirst that gripped his entire body.

Finally, he lay back against the solid muscle behind him, panting. He felt... better. Infinitely so. Iason was right, he had needed to—. Wait. Iason.

"Iason?"

His voice was hardly even a croak, but the man holding him understood.

"It's me, Riki."

A cool cloth pressed against his forehead and he was lowered gently to a softly yielding surface.

"Sleep. You will feel better tomorrow, I promise. It is almost over, Pet."

"'Kay."

Long fingers threaded through his hair and soft lips brushed his own. The hands stroked him to mindless relaxation and the softly murmuring voice followed him into dreams no longer ruled by fire.

---

When he awoke the next time, he knew who he was. He just didn't know where he was, or how he'd gotten there. And where was Iason? The Blondie had been here, he was sure of it.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he looked around. He was in what seemed to be a hospital room, all sorts of odd machines and equipment standing around his bed, and he was hooked up to some of them. A bag of clear fluid fed directly into his vein and catheters were shoved into various embarrassing places.

He was just about to look for a com when the door hatch slid smoothly open and a tall, silver-haired Elite entered.

As soon as he got a good look at Riki, now sitting straight up in the bed, the man's eyebrows shot skyward.

"Well, it seems you are going to be ahead of schedule after all. Iason Mink assured us you would be, but—,"

The man, Riki assumed he was a doctor, looked him over, disbelief evident in his attitude. Riki could hear the word 'mongrel' as clearly as though the Elite had spoken it aloud and he felt the old anger begin to churn in his gut.

"Hassar. He is well enough?"

Riki's head snapped around at the voice that seemed to be imprinted on him at the cellular level. Relief flooded through him as his Blondie strolled casually through the room's port.

Damn, but Iason looked good. Well, he always did, but for some reason, today he made Riki's mouth water, he was so fine. Platinum hair cascaded over broad shoulders covered in rich crimson. He was wearing that cream mantle he'd had on the first time they met. Mmmm. Ice-blue eyes turned his way, and Riki caught his breath. Oh. Oh, man. He wasn't the only one having dirty thoughts.

"I wish to take him home today, doctor. I hope that will be acceptable."

"I will give him his final exam and then he should be ready for release, Sir."

"Good. Give us a minute alone, if you please."

The doctor bowed to Iason and left.

Iason walked over to the bed and put a hand against Riki's cheek. Riki couldn't help himself; he leaned into the caress and closed his eyes at the wonderfully familiar feel of Iason stroking his skin.

"Are you ready to come home, Riki?" Iason asked quietly. "The condo is lonely. You are not there."

Riki just about melted into a puddle at the Blondie's feet. Iason had said many things to him, many times. Things about want and possession and control. But never had the man told him he was needed. That Iason wanted Riki and just Riki because only he would do.

"I'm ready."

Suddenly, the question he should have been asking all along crashed full force into Riki's brain. With it came unease and the beginnings of fear.

"Iason, why am I here?"

Iason must have heard the panic in his tone, since he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Riki gently against his shoulder.

"Riki, you are well, believe me. Everything is fine. I will explain when we are home. Alright?"

"Al—alright. When can we go?"

Riki could hear the pleading in his voice, but he didn't care. Right now the most important thing was getting out of this gods-be-damned hospital and into some decent clothes.

Iason smiled incandescently and Riki grinned back.

"Soon, Pet. The doctor will look you over, and I'll call the car."

Leaning over, Iason dropped a kiss on Riki's mouth. When he would have pulled away, Riki hugged him closer and kissed him again. Finally, they let go of each other and Iason walked towards the door.

"Behave for the nice doctor, Riki," Iason said, looking back at the mongrel over his shoulder. "He may be a humorless snob, but he did save our lives."

While Riki did his best to strangle his laughter, Iason disappeared through the port. Smiling, Riki thought happily about his own personal Blondie until something Iason had said finally registered. The doctor had saved their lives? Riki's breath caught. What in the name of all the gods had happened?

Tentatively, he poked at his memory, prodding the black hole that seemed to have swallowed up a good chunk of time-space. He frowned. There was something... oh yeah. That weird biker had followed him while he was out window shopping in Midas. What had he—?

A blinding flash of pain lanced through Riki's temple and he suddenly remembered blue-grey eyes staring at him through the biker's helmet, just before the man had leveled a stunner at him and fired. Riki knew those eyes.

He sat frozen in place, his own eyes wide open in horror as the immediate past played itself over in his head, a vid with no way to shut it off, no matter how much he wanted to. Guy—Iason—the explosion... and then nothing.

He shut his eyes, trying desperately to clamp down on the images in his mind. Gods. Iason.

2

Iason stared at the sweating, bleeding man on the floor of the warehouse, his eyes pitiless. He lashed out with one booted foot, felt a couple of ribs crack under the blow. The mongrel at his feet gasped, throat already swollen from screaming, and curled in on himself, trying to protect his stomach and genitals.

Iason bent down and seized a handful of brown-black hair, yanking the man up by the lengthy tangle. When the long-lashed lids refused to lift, he shook his prisoner viciously.

"Open your eyes, mongrel. I want to see if you're still the same craven scum you were two years ago."

The lashes finally rose, revealing mist-colored eyes hazed with pain.

"You're dead," Iason's enemy rasped in a broken voice.

"Not," he replied with satisfaction, "anymore."

He released the long skein of hair, letting Guy drop heavily to the concrete floor. The mongrel's skull cracked painfully against the hard surface, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Measured footsteps paced carefully to where Iason stood watching the man who had killed him. The snap of a lighter sounded and a light stream of smoke wafted past.

"Where did you find him?" Iason asked.

"I have a few contacts in the Old City. I had a bounty put on his head a year ago, once I knew you would live. He's been in and out of Ceres, and he finally grabbed at one of the lures I threw out. Must have needed the credits."

Iason turned to look at the red-haired man who stood at his side.

"Katze, if I've never given you my thanks, I do so now."

A slight smile tilted thin lips.

"Felicitations, my friend. I hear Riki woke up today."

Joy lit Iason's features to unearthly beauty.

"Yes."

"Then consider this my congratulatory gift. No thanks are necessary, I assure you."

They both looked down at the battered man before them. Guy was bruised black in a multitude of places and bleeding from numerous cuts and tears all over his body.

"What do you want me to do with him?"

Iason regarded his nemesis thoughtfully.

"Have him taken for regrowth. For what I have in mind, he will need the full complement of his limbs."

Katze's dark red brows shot up.

"That's a good amount of credits to waste on someone you intend to kill."

Iason smiled. It was not a pleasant expression.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill him, Katze. I as good as promised Riki I wouldn't when I carted this piece of refuse out of Dana Bahn. I can, however, make the rest of his life as painful as possible."

---

Riki was so quiet on the way home that Iason privately began to worry. One of the things about the mongrel that amused and attracted him most was Riki's smart mouth, and that mouth usually had any number of things to say. Iason had expected a flood of questions, perhaps some anger, and this unnatural stillness was unnerving.

Riki leaned against him in the lift, eyes closed. When Iason opened their front door, his Pet trailed him silently into the great room, drifting over near the massive plas windows to stare out at the city.

Pouring two glasses of brandy, Iason carried them to where Riki stood and handed one to the other man.

"Iason. I need you to tell me something. And please don't lie."

"You know I don't lie, Riki. There's no need."

His mongrel turned haunted dark eyes on him.

"I need to know if they were just fever dreams, or... Iason, we died. You—you would have made it out if not for me and... Guy."

The name of Riki's former pairing partner came out a bare whisper.

"I'm sorry Riki. They are not dreams. But Jupiter's resources and knowledge are vast, Pet. She sent her androids in immediately to find our bodies. Luckily there was still life in some cells. Enough to bring us back."

Riki swallowed visibly and his mouth parted.

"How—how long?"

"It's been two years. I woke six months sooner than you. My DNA works a little faster at regrowth, perhaps because it is designed with such an extremity in mind."

Riki let his head fall back against the plas behind him.

"Gods. I can't believe this."

A thought occurred to him suddenly and he straightened to stare at Iason.

"Where is Guy? Did you-?"

Iason tamped down the jealous rage that threatened. It would do no good since its object was elsewhere.

"He is not dead, if that is what you ask," he told Riki.

"What have you done with him?" Riki's eyes lit with the fire he remembered and his Pet's hands clenched. "You told me-,"

"All promises were nullified when he made the decision to mutilate you and kill me," Iason said, his voice cracking down like an energy-lash. "He will not be allowed to do such and retain his freedom."

Riki's gaze swung back to the window, focusing on the view of Tanagura below.

"I know that, Iason. I just—this is my fault. I drove him to it."

When Iason stepped to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder, Riki's head came up and his eyes, bright with tears, pleaded with the Blondie for understanding.

"You didn't know him, Iason. You only saw him when anger had a hold on him. He—he was the best friend a man could have."

Iason's mouth tightened. Releasing Riki he turned away.

"If Dana Bahn was the result of such 'friendship' then I hope I never experience it."

Riki reached out and wrapped a slim brown hand around Iason's wrist. The Elite froze.

"There's nothing you can say that I haven't already thought, Iason. I can still see you, propped against that wall, unable to move because... And I h-hate him for it. And myself."

Tears tracked slowly from huge midnight eyes and Iason pulled his mongrel to him, laid his cheek against Riki's silky black mane.

"I hate him... but I don't. I can't explain. It feels like I'm going to rip apart in two directions and I don't know what the hell to do about it!"

Iason stroked his Pet's back and stared blindly at Tanagura's skyline, seeing in his mind Guy's triumphant expression as he'd given Iason Riki's pet ring. He relived the wave of fear and nausea that had seized his throat and stomach. And now Riki wept for the cur. A snarl lifted one elegant lip. Riki's soul-pain was just one more thing that piece of shit would be paying for.

3

Raoul paused before the door to Iason's office, savoring the thought that he had only to step inside to see his friend in all his restored glory. During the long months when Iason's survival hung in the balance, Raoul had paced and sworn and drunk a great deal more than he ever had before. Sleep eluded him and when it came, the nightmares were horrific. Worth it all, now.

Releasing his pent up breath, he moved forward and the port slid smoothly open. Nodding to the assistant seated before a well-equipped terminal, he walked swiftly to the inner room. He could hear Iason before he saw him, speaking calmly into the desk-com.

"No, I don't think so, Katze, not in this instance. Once the creature's recovery is complete, transfer him to Midas. The Laocoon, I think. He should fit in well there."

The white-blonde Elite looked up at Raoul's entrance and a smile curved his lips.

"Just do it and I'll talk to you later tonight," he said into the com, then turned it off. "Raoul. It is good of you to come at such short notice. I know your days have been full of late."

"Yes. But you said it was urgent. And—personal? Unusual for you, Iason."

Leaning back in his chair, Iason steepled long, white-gloved fingers and regarded Raoul over them.

"In this instance, I believe almost anything justified. Two days ago, Katze took the mongrel Guy into custody."

Raoul went rigid, staring at Iason in disbelief.

"Your pet's former pairing partner, you mean? How in Jupiter's name did he manage that? I thought the vermin disappeared into the Old City when Dana Bahn blew."

"Indeed. But Katze has had feelers out for quite some time now, he tells me. Guy was a contact for one of Katze's informants in Ceres when the mongrel emerged from his hole to do a one-time transport into the Ruin. Katze took him and brought him to me."

"When is the execution to be?" Raoul asked. "I'll put it in my schedule."

Iason carefully examined the spotless linen of his white over-tunic.

"Well, you see, Raoul... I'm not going to have him killed." He sighed. "Riki would be very unsettled if I did and right now he needs rest and quiet." Blue eyes blinked innocently. "The doctor said so."

Raoul nearly choked, caught between amusement and anger.

"Iason, what are you thinking? That creature must be put down. He's dangerous."

"Do you speak as a psychologist or a man, Raoul?" Iason asked, laughter running through his voice. "I do not intend to release him onto the street, I assure you. As for what I'm thinking—well, the Arena is a distinct probability."

Raoul blinked. He didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him sooner. In the Arena, death and pain were assured; just not how fast or slow they would come.

"And that, my dear Raoul, is why you are here today. Your weapon has always been the force-sword. You are a Master. I want you to train him."

Raoul's mouth opened, closed. Incredulity rushed through him and for a moment he thought he'd misheard his friend's words. One look at Iason's calm face, though, indicated that his hearing worked just fine.

"Why, Iason? What would be the point?"

"A lesson. One I intend to see that he gets. I will have him at The Laocoon for the next two weeks. He will be available to any who want him for any purpose. Then he's yours for two months. After that the Arena will have his contract as long as he lasts."

Raoul studied the other Blondie in silence. Even before Riki's advent, Iason's motives were cloaked by the convoluted twists and turns of his mind and this time was no exception.

"What do you hope to gain by this charade?"

Iason turned his head to look out the window, offering Raoul his beautiful profile.

"I'm going to spend the next two weeks breaking him into little pieces, destroying everything he believes true of himself. You will then put him back together. In a different and more appealing shape, I hope. I want to be able to tell the man I love that I provided his murderer with the best possible protection before I threw him to the wolves. Right now the boy is still arrogant enough that he would die his first day out."

Iason leaned forward, looking straight at Raoul.

"There is mettle there, though of what caliber, I don't know. I leave that to you to discover."

It was an easy decision. Since Iason's resurrection, Raoul's first impulse in most matters was to give the other Elite whatever he wanted. Iason had been Raoul's only real friend since their school days, when the younger boy's mental powers had begun to manifest themselves. They had set him apart from the other Blondies, whose dislike and mistrust had led them to bait and torment him.

Tall, strong and flawless, even against their school's back-drop of Blondie perfection, Iason had been marked early by Jupiter as her favored son. He'd spread the mantle of his protection over Raoul and let it be known that an insult to the other boy was an insult to him.

Even now, there was no other Raoul truly trusted. Amongst the Elite, the possibility of mind alteration was feared above all and he, as Jupiter's behavioral-modifications specialist, was the embodiment of that threat.

For most of Raoul's life, Iason had generously given quiet support and acceptance. There was very little Raoul wouldn't do for him. And the gods certainly knew that if anyone deserved vengeance, it was Iason. So he held the gaze of his friend and inclined his head gracefully.

"If this is what you want, Iason, then I will do it."

The tension immediately left the other man's shoulders and a bright smile curved the austere mouth.

"Thank you Raoul."

"I just hope you don't live to regret it," Raoul retorted, rising to his feet.

"On the contrary, my friend, I think it is you who will have ample opportunity for second thoughts. By the time you are through dealing with that walking attitude problem, you will no doubt be cursing my name."

He looked back over his shoulder. Iason's smile had become nothing less than a grin. Raoul shook his head.

"Riki has definitely left his mark on you. 'Walking attitude problem?'"

"Mm. When you finally see Guy, you will have to tell me if you can think of a better description. Oh, before you go, I'd like to invite you for dinner at Tantalus on Fifth-day. I want you to meet Riki. You never have, you know."

Raoul smiled.

"No I haven't. And I'd love to come, Iason. Thank you."

"I'm looking forward to it. I won't keep you longer, Raoul, I can see you're already out the door as it is."

Raoul waved a careless hand at his laughing friend and escaped before Iason could think of some other irksome task to bestow upon him.

---

Iason watched as Raoul strode from the office, his dark violet over-tunic glowing richly against the black of his tight-fitting skin-suit. The Blondie's carriage and clothing fairly screamed his high rank and Iason believed there was no one who could carry it off better. Raoul had come a long way from the terrified child Iason had rescued so many years ago.

A corner of his mouth quirked up in remembrance. Raoul had been nine, he eleven, and the four other Blondies must have been in their early teens. What a little hell-cat Raoul had been, lashing out determinedly as he hung suspended from one of the taller boys' fists.

A gurgle of laughter escaped him. Raoul would kill him for thinking it, but the young Blondie had looked about as fierce as a three-week-old felis.

Iason had liked Raoul immediately, something that didn't happen often. They'd been friends ever since. Still, asking Raoul to do this... it was a little much. Well alright, as Riki would say, it was a big, fucking pain-in-the-ass for the other Blondie. But if anyone could control Guy, it would be Raoul.

The desk-com chimed softly, dragging him from the brown study that enveloped him. He leaned over, touched the pad.

"Yes?"

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you, but there is a Centurion here, a Captain Vere, who requests a meeting with you."

A Centurion? What in the nine hells was one of them doing here? He hadn't disturbed any government nests. Well, not lately, at any rate.

"Send him through, Nano, and take your mid-day while you're at it."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Listening to the softly approaching foot-falls, Iason leaned back in his chair and waited. When the soldier appeared, framed by the dull-grey port, he felt a jolt of surprise. Though the man's hair was cut brutally short, it was nearly the same color as Iason's.

There was one solitary Blondie in the army and that was Mattias Vere. Obviously, the only other Elite to successfully defy Jupiter and live stood before him.

"Iason Mink?"

The voice was deep and velvety, hardly in keeping with the hard-bitten man it belonged to.

"Yes. Captain Vere. What may I do for the League? It is unusual, at best, for the army to grace my halls with its presence."

The other man's mouth twitched and Iason filed that away. At least this Centurion had a sense of the ridiculous. Obviously he possessed a few redeeming qualities.

"Since I am here on my own business and not that of the League, I suppose we might say that this time it has not done so," Vere replied.

Curiouser and curiouser. The phrase came to him from somewhere back in his childhood, one of the whimsical tales he'd loved and devoured with greedy intensity. It seemed appropriate to the situation.

"Well, then, Captain, what may I do for you? You realize, of course, that my ability to help one in your position is severely limited, but I will do my best."

A hint of humor flashed in the man's eyes as he came further into the room.

"Please sit."

Iason indicated the chair recently vacated by Raoul, but Vere shook his head.

"Thank you, but I prefer to stand."

"Very well."

Iason touched a key in front of him and the door hissed shut. He rose and walked around his desk to lean against it, facing the man who stood, obviously ill-at-ease, in the middle of his office.

"I get the impression you wish this kept private."

Vere's head whipped up, and for the first time Iason got a glimpse of what lay beneath the Centurion's calm mask. It was pure, unadulterated fury, seething dangerously near the boiling point. Iason caught his breath, feeling scorched by the other man's anger. Then it shut off as completely as though a switch had been thrown and eyes as blue as a summer sky over the ocean stared impassively at him.

"I need you to destroy six men," Vere said abruptly.

"Destroy—how?" Iason asked, fascinated. This was the first time ever that a Centurion had asked anything of him, much less made a personal request for vendetta.

"Their reputations, their careers, their lives. I want their names dragged down so low they will never regain face."

"That's... quite a tall order. May I enquire as to the reason?"

Vere's fists clenched, his lips compressing to form a grim line.

"Two weeks ago, my... pet... went missing. He was gone for three days then dumped at the outer gates of the Citadel. He'd been raped and beaten repeatedly, the word 'whore' carved into his cheek."

Iason felt himself go stiff with shock. Vere stared straight ahead, his eyes carefully blank.

"He is only nineteen. He's been with me since he was fifteen. He trusts me to take care of him and I let this happen. He's so small and they ripped him to pieces, Mink." Vere drew a sharp breath. "He's home now, but only because he wanted it so badly, and he's still confined to his bed."

"Have you reported this?" Iason demanded, fury akin to Vere's beginning to lick along his veins.

"Of course." Vere's lip curled. "Much good it will do, though, when two of the men in question are my superior officer and the second-in-command to the Brigadier. The others are men who command teams like mine. My peers."

He stopped abruptly, looking down at his hand where it rested against the hilt of his force-sword.

"Do you think I would be here if I had any other recourse? And don't even mention the Tanagura Police," he said, scorn evident, "you own them down to the lowest ranking street cop."

"Then Jupiter-,"

The minute it was out of Iason's mouth, he realized his mistake. Vere's bitter laughter washed over him as he recalled the circumstances behind the other Blondie's departure from Parthea. Though Iason was five years older than Vere, with no connection to the other man, he remembered the scandal quite well.

Jupiter wanted better things for her darlings than to have them become professional killers. She'd tried to keep Vere in Eos, but he'd left, removing his implant and joining the League as an enlisted man. That he'd worked his way to Captain, First Rank in four years was a testament to Blondie drive and ability.

Reportedly, his men were fanatically loyal to him. An incident like this one spoke of outside influence being brought to bear against him.

"If I thought crawling back to Jupiter on my hands and knees would protect Tir, I would do it. But she is behind the attack and everything else that's gone wrong around me since I repudiated the Tower."

Two sets of blue eyes locked on each other.

"You know all about her interference, do you not, Iason Mink? The main reason I came to you is that you understand what it is to care for one rather than many."

It took all of Iason's considerable control not to show his surprise. So. There was at least one other Blondie on Amoi who'd fallen in love.

"I would offer to pay you, but somehow I think you will enjoy having me in your debt permanently. For that is what I will be if you consent to this."

Iason brooded, contemplating the ramifications of what he was about to do.

"You should know that once I start this, there is no way to stop it. Several different departments will investigate, you may be sure."

Vere stiffened, his posture going rigid, the straight Blondie nose reaching new heights of elevation.

"I don't fear military police. Faugh! Sycophantic lap-dogs of the Army Commissioner. I'll deal with them, Mink, have no worries on that score."

Iason's mouth tilted up.

"I have no doubt, Captain, that you are equal to anything."

Straightening, he held one gloved hand out to Vere in a gesture he'd learned from Riki. Vere returned his grip without hesitation. It was, Iason thought, a strange way to take the measure of another. But it worked. Vere's clasp was brief and firm, like the man himself. He stepped back and held a data chip out to Iason, who took it.

"This is all the information I have on them. Enough to get started. Tir-," Vere swallowed convulsively, "Tir's very good with a terminal. I think one of the reasons those particular men came after him was that I asked him to investigate them. They would have been ripe for suggestion."

Vere closed his eyes and Iason knew his thoughts, exactly. Vere was wishing he'd never got his pet involved, thinking that there must have been something more he could have done to prevent the boy's suffering. Iason was intimately familiar with such thoughts.

Reaching out, he grasped the other man's shoulder and shook it sharply. The Captain's eyes snapped open immediately and he frowned at Iason.

"What?"

"It's not going to do him any good if you let your mind foul up. Get your priorities straight, Vere, and keep your head clear."

Vere's mouth nearly dropped open and Iason smiled at him.

"I wish I'd had someone to tell me that two years ago," he said. "Now go home. Go see your Tir. And do nothing out of the ordinary. I'll send a contact to you in a few days when it starts. He'll let you know how bad the fall-out will be."

Vere's brows swooped down.

"Who? I don't let just anyone near Tir, so you'd better damn well vouch for this guy, Mink."

One platinum eyebrow arched.

"I would trust him with my life. And have. I'll send Riki."

Vere was obviously familiar with the name. He nodded curtly and turned on his heel. He stopped at the port's threshold.

"Mink. You have my—gratitude."

The last word came out a growl and Iason grinned inwardly. Now here was a man who hated being beholden to anyone.

"No problems, Vere. I'll just give you a shout the next time I need to get a shipment past Spaceport security."

He smiled angelically at Vere, who shot him a dark look and left in a swirl of scarlet cloak. As soon as the outer door slid closed, he let his head drop forward. This was going to be very bad.

Leaning over his desk, he punched a code into the com.

"What!"

Hm. Someone was in a foul mood.

"Katze, it's me. I need you."

4

His hands were suspended mid-air, held there by thick, silver chains that hung from the ceiling. He was still mildly surprised that he had two of them again. Matching cuffs with heavy links secured his ankles. There was no give to those, so his legs had long ago become stiff and painful. And to top it all off, he was stark naked.

His memories after the warehouse were hazy, but he recalled waking up in a bright, white room, surrounded by silver-suited people. They wrestled him into a clear plas tank and sealed him in, still struggling and shouting. Then a gas was released and he could remember nothing until waking in extreme pain to find he once more possessed two arms.

Turning his head, he looked at his left arm. There was nothing there to indicate that he'd ever had the damn thing removed.

Guy swallowed painfully against the heavy metal collar seated around his throat. There was another band lodged around his cock and balls, nearly identical to the one he'd removed from Riki. He shook, thinking of the man who had put it there.

Iason Mink was alive. His mind skittered away from the corresponding thought; that maybe... just maybe that meant Riki was alive as well. But he didn't really think so. Why would Jupiter bother to bring one mongrel back from the dead when she'd happily bomb Ceres off the map if she could do it without harming her precious Blondies?

There was a sharp snap just behind him and he jerked in his chains. The scent of cigarette smoke assaulted his nostrils, making him long for a lungful of the stuff. Gods, did he need one right now.

"You look good like that."

The voice was low and faintly mocking. And instantly recognizable.

"Katze."

The red-head circled him slowly, boots making sharp clicks on the tiled floor. He stopped directly in front of Guy, examining him with that insolently superior look he always managed. It was a wonder Iason hadn't killed the asshole for his Blondie-like arrogance. Iason. Cold terror began to seep through his veins.

"Why?" he grated out.

Katze's smile was smugly feline.

"Because I could."

Any sign of amusement vanished without a trace. Katze reached forward and hauled Guy up by the collar clasping his throat. Damn, the man was nearly as tall as Mink!

"And because you killed my two closest friends, not to mention my best lieutenant. Did you think I'd let something like that pass?"

"You were the one who dumped me in that clinic," Guy wheezed, breath nearly cut off by the metal vise around his neck.

Abruptly, Katze let him go. He hung in his chains, lungs straining as he tried to get enough air.

"The last thing I told Riki was that I'd take care of you. I consider my vow completely fulfilled."

"Riki." Guy spat the name. "You let him go in after that bastard."

"Yes," Katze said, imperturbably, "and if I hadn't been burdened with the task of hauling your worthless carcass back to Ceres before you could die, I might have been able to help move Iason. If you hadn't cut Riki's balls off, he might have had the strength to get Iason out himself. Hell, if you'd been smart and hadn't set the damned charges in the first place, we wouldn't be having this conversation, you idiot!"

Guy was silent, stricken by the guilt that lived inside his gut, breeding self-hatred like some replicating parasite.

"But Riki is back in perfect health, and Iason will make damned sure he stays far away from dangerous little mongrels like yourself, so I don't think I need to worry."

It was said in such an off-hand way that at first Guy didn't realize what it meant.

Then...

"Riki's alive?!"

"Hmn? Oh didn't I tell you? He finally came out of the drug-induced coma the day after we captured you."

Guy couldn't take it in. His Riki was alive! But... no. Riki wasn't Guy's anymore. He was Iason's by choice. You didn't walk into a situation where death was inevitable if you didn't love someone beyond all sanity. Whether Riki knew it or not, he cared more for Iason than his own life.

"I'm glad," Guy whispered. "I'm glad—they're alive."

That seemed to piss Katze off even worse.

"Well, why couldn't you have discovered that two years ago, moron?! You could have been happy, I could have been happy... Riki and Iason would definitely have been happy. But could you use a little common sense? Of course not."

Katze's expression could best be described as sheer disgust. Guy was about a hundred percent sure he was in for the second-worst beating of his life. Luckily, Katze's com beeped.

"What!"

The red-head's voice changed immediately.

"I... of course. Now? No. I have to finish something. Sixteen-hundred? Alright. I'll be there."

He switched off the hand unit and returned his attention to Guy.

"Do you know where you are?" he asked.

"N-no," Guy said shakily. The bad feeling he'd had earlier began to grow.

"This is The Laocoon. It's a Midas club Iason just happens to own. It caters to Elites with... specialized tastes. A few Blondies belong, but they just watch. The other Elites come to get laid whatever way they best enjoy. And you are about to become the newest piece of ass in the place. They'll be quite curious, I'm sure."

Katze reached forward and grasped Guy's chin. Those felis-golden eyes stared unblinking into his.

"I want you think about something, Guy. When your body is raw and painful from the lash and you're bloody and torn from having so many cocks shoved in you that you think you'd rather die than submit one more time, I want you to remember this:

Iason lost his legs trying to get you and Riki through a blast-door before it closed. That is why he couldn't leave your little party on his own. He died to save your life. And Riki died because he couldn't do anything to help Iason but stay with him, waiting for that place to come down on top of them."

Katze was so close that Guy could feel the warmth of the man's breath on his face. The tall, crimson-haired Boss of the Midas underworld leaned even closer, his mouth just brushing Guy's ear.

"I want you to remember that they're alive again... together. And I want you to ask yourself; is there anything you could do now that would even remotely atone for what you did then?"

Releasing Guy's face from his grip, Katze stepped back and turned to go. Half-way to the door he stopped.

"Oh yes. I almost forgot..."

Guy wasn't really sure what Katze did next. All he knew was the pain of the ring around his genitals tightening—and the burst of gut-wrenching agony that flared along every nerve in his body.

When he came out of it, the echoes of his screams hung heavy in the air. He curled forward, trembling violently and gasping, sweat pouring off his body. His muscles continued to convulse spastically and his cock and balls throbbed in unmerciful pulses.

A hand gripped his hair and pulled his head up. Katze crouched next to him, face expressionless.

"Interesting little toy, no? That was only one setting. The pet ring is designed to administer pain or pleasure, depending on the desire whoever holds its control."

One slim white hand appeared before his face, and Guy could see a silver ring with strange etching around Katze's middle finger.

"That was a reminder of what will happen if you resist. And a payment towards your debt to Riki. No man deserves to loose his balls," said the man who'd been castrated at age thirteen.

Katze rose to leave and Guy lifted his head.

"Wait!"

The other man arched a brow at him in question.

"Riki. He's—he's okay? Did they-?"

Katze's smile was ironic.

"They replaced what you took. Be grateful for that. If he'd been permanently damaged, Iason would have cut you into little pieces while you were still alive."

With that parting shot, Katze walked out, the port sliding shut behind him.

Guy's breath left him in a rush and his head dropped. He'd expected this, or something like it. After all, Mink was a vindictive bastard, and even Guy could see his justification this time.

Staring down at the chains and the terrible device that hugged his scrotum, Guy wished he'd never heard of Iason Mink or Dana Bahn. He wished he was dead.

5

Riki broke from blood-drenched dreams, panting and shaking. His mind cleared slowly until he recognized the room and bed he shared with Iason. Damn, that had been a bad one.

Pushing himself up, he reached a hand out for Iason, only to find that the Blondie wasn't there. He glanced over at the clock built into his bed-side table. It was oh-four-hundred! What the hell was Iason doing up?

Groaning, he rolled out of bed and grabbed his robe off the floor. He stumbled over a chair, swearing quietly, before he finally found the doorway. There was a faint light coming from the open door to Iason's office, so he padded off down the hall to retrieve his bed-warmer.

It was really hard to sleep without Iason these days. He wasn't sure why that was, but it didn't bother him, so he just gave in to what he wanted. Stopping at the office door, he peered in.

Sure enough, there was his Blondie.

The only light came from the computer screen Iason was currently frowning at. As Riki stood silently in the port, the tall blonde typed something into the terminal then waited as the glow of rapidly changing information spilled across his face.

"It's four in the morning, Iason," Riki said softly, watching his lover's tired gaze lift slowly to meet his. "Why aren't you asleep like any normal person?"

Shoving his chair back from the desk, Iason scrubbed a weary hand over his strained eyes.

"Is it that late? I wasn't paying attention."

Riki stepped into the room, coming to stand at Iason's shoulder. The bright screen caught his attention.

"News stories?"

Iason leaned back and gestured Riki forward.

"Read it. You won't like it."

As he scanned the article, Riki's scowl grew.

Apparently a pet had been raped and brutalized out near the Citadel, the League of Centurions' Tanagura stronghold. Worse, the pet belonged to a Centurion captain. The unknown assailants were still at large and the League had internalized the investigation.

Riki looked over at Iason, confusion on his face.

"How often does something like this happen?"

"Never."

Iason's tone was short and sharp. He sounded as pissed as Riki felt.

"And I happen to know this was no random attack." When Riki's brows rose in surprise, Iason smiled grimly. "I was approached by a certain captain today. No one has done anything about this because it was internal to begin with. There are three captains, two majors and a colonel involved."

Riki could feel his eyes widen until he was sure they'd pop.

"The gods, Iason! What in hell does he want from you?"

Iason crossed his arms and looked at the computer screen.

"He wants me to systematically destroy their lives. I intend to oblige him. I will not tolerate this kind of thing in my city."

"You're really pissed," Riki said in wonder. "I was always curious what it would take to make you lose it. Why do you care, though? It is League business, especially if the rot's inside."

Iason's mouth firmed and his eyes grew forbidding.

"Captain Vere is one of only two other Blondies in Tanagura for whom I have respect."

"This guy's a Blondie?" Riki's voice went up nearly an octave. "But there aren't any in the League! That's—that's like a Blue Elite working as a chef or something!"

"There is one. The only one who's ever stood up to Jupiter to get what he wanted. And he's about to do it again."

"What do you mean?"

"She sent her dogs out after that boy. If she were truly alive, I think Vere would run her through personally. As it is, he went looking for the best weapon he could find." Iason smiled. "Me."

"So you're gonna take these guys out 'cause you like Vere?"

"Not only that, Pet. Abuse of power and the brutalization of innocents is something I cannot condone under any circumstances."

Riki was silent for a few moments. Then an impish smile began to play about the corners of his full mouth.

"I dunno 'bout that, Blondie," he said, his voice doubtful. "'Cause see—about, oh, six years ago, there was this extremely innocent mongrel walking down a street in Midas, minding his own business, when all of a sudden a bunch of thugs just up and grab him! What the fuck, the mongrel thinks; I didn't even do anything lately.

Turns out, the only thing he did wrong was run into some Elite who got an itch he couldn't get rid of. Soooo, there you have it: defenseless mongrel ruthlessly exploited by powerful Blondie. Would make a nice headline, doncha think?"

Iason was laughing so hard he seemed to be having trouble breathing, and Riki grinned to himself. His Blondie didn't do that near often enough and if Riki could help ease the pressure with a little comic relief... well, slap a belled hat on him and call him a clown.

"I don't know anyone else who would put it quite that way, Pet."

"And a very good thing it is, too," Riki said, cocky attitude out in full force.

Iason reached out and pulled the black-haired mongrel against him, wrapping his arms around Riki's waist and burying his face in his Pet's throat.

"Don't ever leave me again, Riki. I don't think I could bear it."

"Hey." Startled by Iason's words and fierce tone, Riki reached up to stroke the Blondie's long, silky hair. "I'm not going anywhere, Iason. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." Iason looked up at him from a tangle of platinum strands. "So why are you up, Pet? It's now-," he glanced at the monitor's clock, "almost oh-five-hundred."

Riki couldn't meet Iason's eyes. The nightmares embarrassed him and he hated talking about them.

"Another dream?" Iason's voice was infinitely gentle. "And I wasn't there to wake you. I'm sorry, Riki."

"'S okay," Riki mumbled to the floor.

"Would you like me to have Raoul prescribe something to help?"

"No! No, I just-," he closed his eyes and gathered his scattered thoughts, "I just need to get everything straight in my head, you know?"

He silently begged Iason to let the matter drop and after a few tense seconds, the Blondie did.

"Are you feeling better?"

Oh. He knew that smoky, sexy tone. They hadn't made love since he'd come home from the hospital and Riki was so sexually frustrated that he'd been planning to ambush Iason in the foyer tomorrow evening. Well, this evening, now. It seemed that he wouldn't have to, though. Maybe Iason had finally decided to stop treating him like a blown-glass ornament.

Or maybe not.

Iason's hands stilled against the flesh they'd been stroking a moment before and gently straightened Riki's disheveled robe.

"We can go to bed if you like; see if you can get some more sleep."

Enough of this shit. Riki reached out and cupped Iason's face in his hands.

"I'm as healthy as a herd beast, Iason," he told the startled Blondie. "Three doctors have told you this. I have told you this. Now can we please fuck before I die of SRS?"

"Die of what?" Iason choked, trying to laugh and kiss his Pet at the same time.

"Semen Retention Syndrome," Riki muttered into his lover's mouth, eliciting another strangled sound.

Then he forgot everything as Iason's tongue slid past his lips, twining with his own. Shoving his robe off his shoulders, he let it drop to the floor and climbed into Iason's lap. His Blondie gave an appreciative groan, and those long, talented fingers began to rub and pull at Riki's tight nipples.

"Ohh, fuck."

Riki's hands were just as busy, pushing Iason's robe open and wandering down that sleek, cut stomach to wrap around the Blondie's huge cock. When he flicked a thumb over the weeping slit in the crown, Iason arched, mouth pulling from his, a cry echoing through the room.

As Iason watched, eyes dilated, Riki stroked up and down the shaft of his cock. He reached out to return the favor, his hand pulling with just the right amount of roughness at Riki's large penis. More fingers wandered between the mongrel's legs, exploring his sac and the unbearably sensitive strip of skin just behind it. When one of Iason's fingers pressed against his tightly closed entrance, Riki jerked, moaning.

"Do we have anything in here?" he panted against Iason's mouth.

"Mmm—no. Don't think so."

Iason was kissing his way along the sensitive skin of Riki's jaw, making the younger man feel like he was about to come right out of his skin.

"Okay, screw this."

"Thought that was the idea," Iason said breathlessly.

"Cute, smartass. Gimme your hand."

Grabbing the hand that wasn't wrapped around his aching shaft, Riki sucked two fingers into his mouth. His kept his eyes locked on Iason's while he licked and sucked the two digits as if they were the Blondie's cock.

A rumbling growl built in Iason's chest and finally he pulled his fingers from his Pet's mouth.

"Enough, you little tease!"

Riki laughed and rose on his knees so Iason could reach behind and slide one of those slick fingers deep inside his hole.

"Gods!"

Another finger probed gently then pushed in alongside the first on the inward stroke. Riki bit his lip, eyes shut tight. Fucking-A that felt good! Then those agile fingers brushed his prostate and he about died of the excruciating pleasure.

His hands clenched on Iason's shoulders as the Blondie pulled his fingers from Riki's body, replacing them with the silky head of his cock. Iason rubbed and nudged over and over until Riki thought he'd lose what little of his mind remained.

Riki tightened the already hard grip he had on Iason. The Blondie's eyes stared into his, their pale ice gone molten with want.

"Iason. Want you inside me. Now."

"Riki."

Iason's voice was a bare whisper in his ear and suddenly the cock-head teasing his anus pressed forward, penetrating the tight ring of muscle. Riki's back arched and he pushed down, feeling each heavy inch of his lover's cock as it thrust into him.

"Ah!"

He was stretched so tight. He'd forgotten just how big Iason was. It felt perfect and he couldn't stay still any longer. Bracing his hands on his Blondie's shoulders he lifted up then let himself drop, moaning at the slick, sliding pressure of the thick cock inside of him.

Iason's mouth parted and that long white throat bared itself as the Blondie's head fell back. Riki leaned forward, fastening his teeth and lips on the milky skin and sucking hard. Then one of Iason's hands was guiding his mouth up to meet the Blondie's while the other slid down to wrap firmly around Riki's cock.

The mongrel moved faster, his body at the mercy of the explosion building inside him, feeling the fullness of the Blondie's cock slide up and down inside him, hitting the internal spot that made him see stars with every down-stroke; feeling the steady pull of Iason's hand stroking his erection to orgasm.

Iason stiffened suddenly and the hand that cupped Riki's hip pulled the mongrel down firmly onto the Blondie's cock, holding him there.

"Riki!"

He could feel the wet heat of Iason's come pouring into him and it triggered his own climax.

"Oh fuck! Iason!"

His head dropped back and his vision went white as he shot, feeling like his balls were turning inside out. Hot semen sprayed between them as Iason continued to stroke his straining penis. Finally the last spasm passed, leaving Riki limp and exhausted. He lifted heavy lids to look at his lover.

Iason's eyes met his and held them as the Blondie lifted his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean. Riki could feel his spent cock jerk at the blatant eroticism of the gesture and he groaned.

"Give a guy a break, Blondie. That's dirty pool, right there."

Iason laughed, the sound low and unbelievably sexual.

"It was meant to be."

Strong arms pulled him forward and he sprawled over his Blondie, feeling tired and sated.

"Shoulda done that sooner," he mumbled into Iason's shoulder. "Better'n some pill. I'm gonna sleep like the dead now."

He thought he heard a muffled snort from his lover, but then Iason slid gently from his body and he felt himself being lifted and cradled against a broad shoulder. When he started to protest, Iason kissed him into silence.

"Hush. Shower first, and then we're going to bed. You're asleep on your feet, Pet."

He leaned against Iason as they stood under a strong spray of hot water and let the other man wash him, then dry him off and herd him into bed. He was nearly asleep, wrapped in a cocoon of warm Blondie, when he heard something that woke him up immediately.

"I love you, Riki."

He didn't think Iason had meant for him to hear it; the Blondie probably thought he was out cold. He swallowed painfully, throat suddenly dry. Everything he'd thought he wanted, everything that had been important before the explosion... it all disappeared in the wake of four short words.

He lay there, Iason draped pliantly along his spine, listening as the Blondie's breathing became regular. It was a very long time before he slept.

6

The Viewing Room at The Laocoon was not first amongst Raoul's choices for evening entertainment. It had not, in fact, even made the list. His presence here was necessitated by business, not pleasure. He glanced around the velvet-draped room with distaste. How Iason could stomach owning such a place was beyond him.

But then, Iason had told him a long time ago that he had no aptitude for commerce. Iason was right. That's why Raoul left his investments in his friend's capable hands so he could happily retreat to his white tower and forget such vulgar matters.

Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to the scene he'd come here to watch. If he held this room in disgust, that sensation was completely eclipsed by the aversion he felt for what was happening on the other side of the see-through wall.

The dark-haired man manacled to a wall was covered in welts and sluggishly bleeding cuts. They stretched from his shoulders to his calves in a visual map of sadistic cruelty. As Raoul watched, a Red Elite, one of two in the room, laid another stripe across the man's buttocks with the energy-lash in his hand.

The chained mongrel jerked, but made no sound. Raoul walked closer to the wall, changing his angle so he could see the creature's face. Blood ran freely from lips bitten through. One golden brow arched as Iason's comment about 'mettle' came back to the Blondie. This mongrel was certainly no delicate blossom.

Raoul ran his eyes over the sweat-sheened body he'd been astonished to realize was exquisite. It had been a long time since he'd kept a pet. They tended to bore him. The sameness of perfect bodies, lovely faces... and dull minds. A cerebral creature, Raoul couldn't be bothered by anyone mentally deficient. As for sexual stimulation—it had been so long since he'd had an urge, he'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

The golden-skinned mongrel in front of him was reminding him in a hurry. He recalled Iason's Riki as the boy had looked, standing on stage in a Pet Salon alongside all the other pretty creatures. He'd admired the mongrel's unusually tall, strong body, but on an aesthetic level only.

Guy's form was very like Riki's in its darker skin tone, height and perfectly proportioned muscles, but Raoul's response to it was entirely physical. He shifted restlessly, his cock unaccountably hard.

Inside the other room, a Silver Elite stepped forward, something gleaming in his hand. The mongrel arched in obvious agony, mouth open in a silent scream, tears running from pain-blind eyes. One of the Red Elites released him from the wall, binding his hands behind his back while he writhed with the tremors wracking his body. The Silver Elite gave the boy a shove, sending him sprawling across the back of a low couch.

Jerking the mongrel's hips up, the Elite spread Guy's buttocks wide. After cursorily slicking his cock, the silver-haired man shoved forward into the boy in front of him. This time, Raoul's body jerked in sympathy with Guy's. The mongrel's fingers dug into the leather-covered lounge beneath him, nails already torn and bleeding from gripping the room's wall.

By the time the Elite ejaculated, blood was running down Guy's legs and Raoul was rigid, but not with arousal. Walking over to the Viewing Room's bar, he pressed the com.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Send Tueth to me."

"Right away, Sir."

When the club's manager appeared some few minutes later, Raoul's eyes were locked on Guy. One of the Red Elites was taking his turn. Gods.

"Mr. Jervaux? Is there something amiss?"

"No, nothing. After this I want that boy left alone for the rest of the night. I will pay for his time."

There was astonished silence behind him and he turned to look at the manager, expression arrogant as only a Blondie's could be. One eyebrow arched in implied disdain.

"Yes?"

"Y-yes Sir. Very good."

"You may leave," he said, haughty as Iason himself.

The man bowed deferentially and left. Raoul turned back to the hideous view.

---

He watched it all, telling himself the whole time that this was the man who'd killed Iason, that he deserved every vicious thrust, every body-jarring lash. By the time the last of the four Elites in the room had finished with Guy, he was shaken and sick.

The Elites straightened their clothing and left, laughing and talking. The mongrel lay where they'd dropped him, crumpled in a heap on the floor. As Raoul watched, the still form trembled, limbs beginning to move.

Guy strained until he gained his knees, his still-bound hands making his movements awkward. His head hung down, long hair masking his features. Crawling like a wounded animal, he backed himself into a corner and huddled there, shaking. Eventually his muscles relaxed some and he lay down, curling himself into a tight ball.

Raoul waited until the boy's breath evened before leaving. Just outside the door, he hesitated, turning to look at the closest port. Curiosity, his besetting sin, got the better of him.

The port slid open for him and he stepped into the room he'd just been looking into. The mongrel was in the same position, back to the wall, curled up, asleep. Raoul walked over, keeping his tread silent. Then he knelt down beside Guy, looking his fill.

The mouth was damaged and swollen, bitten through in two places, but full and well-shaped for all that. Guy's features were truly beautiful even counting the abuse. High cheekbones accentuated by lashes so long they brushed the mongrel's face when closed. Perfectly proportioned bone-structure, gorgeous body.

His hair wasn't quite as black as Riki's. The color of unadulterated coffee, shot through with auburn highlights, it hung down almost as far as Raoul's own. Caught by a compulsion he didn't understand, the Blondie pulled off one of his gloves and reached out to lift a fine strand between careful fingers. It felt as silky as it looked.

A sudden tension in the still form next to him alerted Raoul to the fact that Guy was conscious. Dropping the mongrel's hair, he looked down into fearful grey eyes.

The creature lay perfectly still, as if he thought he could avoid Raoul's notice by not moving. The bruised rib-cage rose and fell swiftly with Guy's frightened breathing. Raoul felt his throat grow tight at the other man's obvious terror. Moving slowly, so as not to make things worse, he laid a hand on the mongrel's shoulder.

Guy jerked but quickly stilled the movement, lying rigid under the Blondie's touch. When Raoul did nothing else, the mongrel gradually relaxed. The Blondie reached out and gently released the boy's hands from their bonds. Those misty eyes roamed over Raoul's face and clothes, carefully not meeting his gaze.

"Guy?"

The eyes shot up to his, startled, fear beginning to creep back. Raoul sighed.

"You will be left alone for the rest of the night. Is there a place you can sleep?"

"Yes."

The mongrel's voice was a raspy thread, barely audible.

"I can call for a Furniture if you need help."

The dark head was shaken violently, long hair whipping out.

"Nnn—uh. Get there—self."

"No," Raoul said quietly. "You can't."

Guy turned towards the wall, rich brown hair falling forward to hide the shame scored deep into his face.

Raoul studied the humiliated boy for a moment then reached forward to lift Guy into his arms. There was a muffled cry of pain and the mongrel struggled briefly before going limp against the Blondie. A tear slid slowly from one closed eye.

Doing his best not to jostle his burden any more than was necessary, Raoul effortlessly carried the younger man through the room and into the hall. He looked down at Guy.

"Which way?"

The mongrel pointed to the right, away from the public rooms. They walked down lushly carpeted halls, past doors that grew more and more utilitarian, until they came to a bare corridor with a few non-descript ports.

"That one," Guy whispered, lifting his head from Raoul's shoulder to indicate an unmarked door. Raoul let the mongrel slide to his feet, keeping a supporting arm around him. Guy clutched at the taller man's waist, trying to stay upright.

Reaching forward, Raoul used his override code on the door. It slid open.

Expressionless, Raoul examined the room. It was empty. There wasn't even a pallet on the floor. He glanced down at the mongrel clinging to him. Guy was hot, feverish and badly damaged, inside and out.

Iason had wanted a steward for this 'walking attitude problem'. Raoul would just have to take up his duties sooner than expected. Guy swayed slightly, his lips going white, and Raoul lifted him into his arms once again. Black lashes fluttered against unnaturally pale cheeks.

"W-what... doing?"

"This is unacceptable," Raoul said calmly. "You need a doctor and a bed if I'm to make any progress with you. Iason wants you trained and I cannot do so with you in this condition."

Raoul moved sedately down the halls, as though carrying a broken mongrel through a BDSM club was an everyday occurrence for him. The lesser Elites he passed looked at them, then swiftly away. No matter your position, you didn't interfere in a Blondie's business. Not if you wanted to keep that position.

"Train?" Guy asked in his ruined voice. "Pet?"

"No. The Arena," Raoul replied curtly.

The mongrel in his arms relaxed.

"Better. Cleaner."

Surprisingly, he could follow Guy's thoughts with ease. Obviously, violent death by force-sword was a more acceptable fate to the mongrel than a stint as some Elite's pet, and an eventual return to the brothels of Midas. Raoul, after thinking about it for a moment, could see his point.

"Maybe I should suggest the pet option to Iason," he said to Guy. "I'm beginning to think it would be a worse punishment by far."

The mongrel's lids shot up and the creature actually growled at him!

Raoul stifled the urge to laugh. Attitude problem, indeed! As for the walking part... well, Guy would be able to manage that soon enough.

"S-Sir? May I be of help?"

He glanced back to see the manager running behind him, wringing pudgy hands.

"I believe you've done enough, Tueth. I'll let Iason know I've taken your newest acquisition off your hands since you couldn't care for it properly. Oh, and I will want the release codes and controllers for the collar and pet ring. I'll wait in the front room while you fetch them."

"But, Sir!"

"Yes?"

As with everyone else, the little man responded immediately to Blondie authority. Once Tueth had gone, Raoul noticed the mongrel was shaking and glanced down. To his astonishment, the creature was laughing without sound.

"Sure was... gonna... piss his pants. Scary Blondie."

The speech tired the already exhausted Guy and he laid his head back against Raoul's shoulder, closing his eyes.

"Like you," he said, and shocked the man who held him by reaching out to touch a wave of golden hair. "Beautiful."

When Raoul reached The Laocoon's outer room, he placed Guy on a lounge and stood over him, watching him sleep. Crossing his arms against his chest, he contemplated the wisdom of what he was doing.

He was already more attracted to the mongrel than he'd been to anyone in a decade. Or maybe ever. The sight of Guy's body stretched out on the couch, all tight muscle and prominent bone, went straight to his cock.

That was bad enough. But he was starting to like the creature. Even in his present state, Guy retained his sharp mental acuity and impudent tongue. It was getting harder to remember that this boy was the reason Iason had been hospitalized for a year and a half.

Determinedly, he turned his back on the slumbering mongrel and reached for his hand unit to call his car.

He was not Iason. He had no desire for the kind of relationship his best friend shared with his pet. And he wasn't going to fall into the dangerously enticing trap of golden skin and mist-grey eyes.

Mind over matter, he told himself. Somehow, though, he didn't think it would be that easy.

7

Katze hunched over his computer muttering to himself, an unlit cigarette clamped between his lips. If anyone could see the man who instilled fear into every underworld criminal in his natural habitat, Iason thought, he'd have to find someone else to head up the black market.

Which would be an extreme pity. His former Furniture possessed the most brilliant mind he'd ever come across in his thirty years, even with Blondie mental superiority factored in.

"How soon?" he asked, idly toying with his own cigarette. He didn't smoke often, but sometimes it was nice to sit in Katze's controlled chaos and share a cig with one of the few men on Amoi he trusted.

"Couple of days at the most. Everything's in place but the timing..."

"Good. I'll send Riki to Vere tomorrow. Which reminds me. Did you run that check on his pet that I asked for?"

Grabbing a data-pad from under a pile of holo-chips, Katze flipped it at Iason. The Blondie deftly caught it, turned it on.

"I think you'll be surprised. I was."

With the reassuring sound of Katze's swiftly tapping fingers in the background, Iason turned his attention to the pad.

The first part of the document was an image, presumably recent, of the pet in question. As Katze had suggested, it startled Iason greatly.

The hair was the blue-black of a kraken's wing. It fell in soft waves, framing one of the most beautiful faces Iason had been privileged to look upon. Against milk-pale skin, the full red mouth looked sinful. Huge violet eyes stared out from under ridiculously long-lashed lids.

"The boy's a mongrel," he said in astonishment.

"Yeah," Katze turned to look at him. "But not just any mongrel. His mother was a Ceres-born whore. Sold to a Midas brothel at twelve. And you can see why. Her son looks just like her. 'Cept for those eyes. Got those from his father."

"And his father was...?"

"Antiril Ganaan."

Iason's head shot up. He stared at Katze.

"You must be joking."

"Uh-uh. Scroll down a little."

Iason did and found himself looking at another image, this one of a family.

The woman was heart-breakingly beautiful as she laughed up at the man standing next to her, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. She was an almost exact copy of the boy in the previous picture.

As for the man, he was her match for sheer physical perfection. His long, silvery hair streamed down his back, framing a patrician countenance and the startling purple eyes which also graced the face of the smiling boy he held in his other arm.

"When the brothel owner who held her contract refused to sell out to Ganaan, she deliberately got pregnant with his child, rendering herself useless. Since she wasn't a citizen, they couldn't have a formal Pair contract drawn up, but they lived together in Midas for over twelve years."

"Great gods. I can't believe Jupiter allowed this."

"Well, he was her top geneticist. I suppose, as with you, she went by the adage of, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it.' And unlike you, the circumstances of his private life weren't common knowledge.

Anyway, the two of them died in an aerial transport crash seven years ago. Rumor has it, it was an assassination, but that was never proven. The boy disappeared though. Until three years later when his name popped up in the Pet Registry."

"I remember the crash," Iason said slowly. "Most of us believed he was killed for political reasons. I never knew he had a family, though. I thought all Elites, no matter their standing, were created sterile."

"They are. But the man wasn't a bioengineer for nothing," came the cheerfully sarcastic reply.

He shot Katze a quelling look then lowered his eyes back to the images.

"Unbelievable. Antiril Ganaan's son, the pet of a renegade Blondie. It defies imagination."

Katze snorted.

"That depends on your imagination."

"Katze, you have an extremely filthy mind."

"Yes indeed. Proud of it, too. Oh, by the bye. I got a frantic call from Tueth night before last."

"Oh?" Iason's tone was distracted. He scrolled down the data-pad, scanning the information.

"Yes. It seems Raoul put in an appearance and absconded with a certain mongrel."

"What!?"

Katze grinned at his employer. Iason looked like someone had goosed him. That wasn't an expression Katze had ever seen on the Blondie's face and he took a moment to savor the thought that he'd been the one to put it there.

"Raoul was in the Viewing Room, watching four Elites bang the hell out of Guy. I guess he was offended, because Tueth called in hysterics to tell me that your hot property was gone."

"Oh, the gods. I should have told Raoul to stay away. He doesn't have the stomach for that kind of thing."

"Who does?" Katze muttered under his breath.

"I heard that."

"Look, Iason, you don't even like the place and you're the owner. I say we demo it and put in a nice casino. Much more profitable and distinctly less disgusting."

Katze looked hopefully at the Blondie whose lips were twitching uncontrollably.

"Someday, Katze, someone is going to take exception to one of your smartass remarks and go after you with a blunt instrument. I only hope I'm there to see it."

The two men regarded each other solemnly for a moment... then burst into laughter.

"Y-you should have seen your expression when I told you about Raoul, Iason," Katze managed to get out. "I th-thought your eyes were gonna fall out."

That just made them laugh harder.

"Hells," Iason gasped. "I can just see it now: Raoul walking down the main hall past all those Elites, Guy draped over his shoulder."

"If anyone could do it..." Katze shot back.

It took forever for them to stop laughing.

"You know, Riki has been really good for you," Katze said in a humor-lightened voice. "Three years ago, you wouldn't have even smiled at something like that."

"Riki makes me feel... alive. And happy. When he smiles at me—life is perfect. I don't know if that is good or bad, but I like it. And I'll kill anyone who tries to take him away from me again."

Iason's eyes had gone distant, but Katze could see the banked fire within. Gods help Amoi if that ever happened, he thought. Iason would take the planet apart a piece at a time to find his mongrel. If Riki was kidnapped again, Katze had no doubt that the Blondie would go after him with 'shoot-first-ask-questions-later' foremost in mind.

"Speaking of Riki, do you have the correct ID to get him into the Citadel?"

"Um. It's around somewhere."

Iason watched in amusement as Katze dug into one after another of his piles, finally coming up with a small ID badge and a data chip. He held them up triumphantly.

"I knew they were here."

"Yes. With you, it's just a matter of where," Iason replied, his tone exquisitely dry.

Katze gave him an insulted look.

"Vile slander. My piles never ate that data chip, it was just a rumor."

Iason rolled his eyes and stood, stretching.

"One of these days I'll have to lend you my assistant," he offered. "Nano would have this place cleaned up at the speed of light."

Katze blanched and threw his arms out, guarding his desk and its contents from Iason's evil designs.

"Don't even think about it. I'd have to quietly strangle him, and then where would you be? Out one assistant, that's where."

"Just give me the damned badge and I'll let you get back to your unspeakable mess."

"Sure."

Iason snatched the badge and data disc Katze tossed him out of the air and raised a hand to his friend.

"I'll be by tomorrow and we can finish this discussion then."

One red brow arched insolently.

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Take it however you like," Iason responded airily, and left.

8

"ID, please."

Obediently, Riki inserted the data-chip into the correct slot.

"Scanning... welcome to the Citadel, Rex Ito. Your pass is valid for one thirty-hour Amoi Standard. Please be advised that violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of martial law. Enjoy your day."

"Nice," he muttered, pocketing the chip the computer spat back out at him. He shot his cuffs and stepped onto the moving walkway directly adjacent to the final security check-point. He'd already gone through five.

At Iason's insistence, he was wearing a decent suit for once. He'd vetoed pastels under no uncertain terms, so his Blondie had sent him to Katze... who'd proceeded to laugh his ass off, then drag Riki along to the red-head's personal tailor. Ugh. Give him jeans or his favorite pair of loose black slacks any day.

He looked down at the slim-fitting navy pants and turtleneck, coupled with a short ivory vest-type-thing. Gods, he'd thought he was seeing a dark-haired version of Iason when he looked in the mirror.

His Blondie had sure been pleased, though. Those ice-blue eyes had smoldered at him across the breakfast table this morning. If he hadn't been all gussied up, he'd have jumped the man on the spot.

He was so lost in an extremely hot 'what-if?' scenario that he almost missed his stop.

"Junction twenty-nine," a disembodied female voice announced. "Blocks 240 through 300."

Hurriedly, he stepped off the walkway and through the open arch with '29' over it. The arch led to a brightly lit tunnel, which in turn spilled onto an outside street. He stood, blinking in blinding sunshine and gaping at towering walls that seemed to go on forever.

The Citadel was a city all its own, enclosed within a massive metal and stone edifice designed to keep everything and everyone out. In case of aerial attack, a force dome could be activated at any time. Riki looked around, wondering just who or what these guys were expecting. Marauding space-elephants?

"Aaaaallllriiiiight ladies, pick yer goddam feet up! This ain't no planetary pleasure cruise, this here's the army! So move those candy asses!"

The thunder of pounding feet sure sounded like a herd of elephants, so maybe he wasn't too far off. He turned to watch as a unit pounded past, the sergeant at arms yelling for them to get a move on.

"Excuse me, Sir, but may I help you?"

Startled, he whirled to find a tidily uniformed young man standing just behind him.

"Uh—yeah. I'm—um..."

The youthful Centurion smiled at him with understanding.

"It's a little overwhelming, isn't it? This is your first visit, right?"

When Riki nodded wordlessly, the other boy held out a hand.

"I'm Corporal Patrocles," he said as they shook. "If you give me your pass, I can tell you exactly where to go."

Riki handed the data-chip over and the corporal inserted it into the PCP he carried.

"Captain Vere. His Team's with the Fifth, so that would be barracks 260 and 70. The officer's quarters are usually separate, but if you go to the Team offices you can find out where he'll be right now."

Riki stared blankly at the other man. Corporal Patrocles laughed.

"I'm sorry, I've confused you terribly haven't I? Shall I just take you there, myself?"

Riki finally found his tongue.

"Please. If I try to do this alone, I'll probably end up head down in a sewer."

The other boy laughed again and beckoned him forward.

"Well, I can't let that happen, can I? C'mon."

"So the Captain's the head of a Team?" he asked, falling into step with the corporal.

"Yes. Special Forces. The Fifth Battalion is made up of small units like that. They're a little... intense. But they're good guys. I hear a lot of them come out of the slums, so they sort of never had a chance to be normal, y'know?"

Yeah, Riki thought. I know.

"Sounds exciting," he said, aloud.

"Maybe." Patrocles frowned. "But I wouldn't want to be the one doing their jobs. It's black ops, and that's the most dangerous work there is."

The kid was perceptive and he didn't seem to be all starry-eyed over his chosen profession. That was good. Riki figured he'd last a lot longer in a fight than a gung-ho patriot-type.

He looked around him as they walked, observing identical grey buildings and the scurrying uniforms and assorted civilians swarming over them like a mass of insects. Everything here was that same dull shade.

Riki figured he'd go crazy within an hour. At least Elites knew how to do color, even if that color was pink way too often. Iason liked primary shades, thank the gods.

After a few minutes, Corporal Patrocles stopped in front of a grey stone block that looked just like all the others to Riki.

"The Fifth's offices are here. Just ask for Captain Vere of Team 15 and they'll tell you where to go."

"Okay. Thanks a lot, Patrocles. I really appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure, Sir. You have a great day."

The corporal smiled at him again then headed off to whatever duties waited. Riki looked up at the ugly building in front of him and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought and ran up the wide steps before he could start freaking out.

---

It took him a couple of assistants, but he finally got hold of a guy who knew his ass from his elbow. He told Riki that he wanted Team Headquarters and printed him a map, marking the way distinctly in yellow.

So here he was outside one more grey building, only this one looked pretty near deserted.

Except for the two armed guys at the main entrance.

Tall, tanned, bulging with muscle and bristling with sharp objects, they might have intimidated the mongrel if he wasn't already used to Blondies. Now those were scary.

"Captain's not here," one meat-head said.

"I, um, kinda figured that out," Riki said. "But his brother sent me to tell him that that delivery he was expecting came, so is there somewhere I can wait until he comes back? It's important."

The two Centurions glanced at each other. Obviously they knew what the code phrase meant, since one of them jerked his chin at Riki then waited for him to come through the port, sealing it after he did.

"Can wait in the Cap's rooms. Should be here in 'bout an hour."

"But-,"

The other Centurion seemed about to protest, but the first guy shot him a look.

"Cap trusts this guy. I'm just doin' what he told me to."

Riki ambled along behind the soldier, hands in his pockets. The man stopped at a port near the back of the building and punched in a code. The door slid open and Riki would have stepped through, but the Centurion held his las-rifle across the opening, blocking the mongrel's path.

"You do or say one thing to upset the kid and I'm gonna personally take you apart, you got me?"

Mystified, Riki nodded and the man backed off, seemingly satisfied.

The kid? Who was that, he wondered and stepped over the threshold. The port hissed shut behind him and he looked around.

The outer room was starkly furnished with two military-issue chairs and a low table. The lav was through a closed side door, and there were two open ports. He started over to get a look inside the one closest to him when a voice called out from the other.

"Matt? Is that you?"

Walking to the far doorway, he peered in.

A low, well-padded futon covered most of the floor space. Lying on it, propped up against about half a dozen pillows, was an extremely ill-looking, extremely beautiful mongrel.

Enormous violet eyes surrounded by dark rings of exhaustion stared back at him. He saw fear flicker there, and backed hastily away, hands held up and out to show his lack of weapon or bad intentions.

"Hey, it's fine. I'm not gonna do anything. I'd leave, but these guys put me in here and I'm not sure if they're gonna let me out until Vere gets back. I'll go in the other room, though, okay?"

"No, wait."

Long white fingers plucked restlessly at the quilt they lay against. The pale mouth parted.

"Who are you? Are you here to see Matt?"

Riki drifted a little closer to the doorway and hovered there anxiously, not wanting to do something that would upset the boy.

"I'm Riki," he said. "I don't know who Matt is, but I came to see Captain Vere. I'm guessing you know him."

A sigh of relief escaped the young man on the bed. He turned one cheek against his pillow and Riki suddenly noticed the bandage that covered the other half of the kid's face. Oh shit. This must be Vere's pet.

"Riki," the other boy said. "He told me you were coming soon. You belong to Iason Mink."

"I guess you could say that," Riki said. "Although who owns who or what is a toss-up with that Blondie."

There was a soft giggle from the bed and the gaunt, white face got some color in it. Riki came forward a little further, standing in the doorway and looking at the rest of the room.

His mouth dropped open.

"Holy shit. You've got books!"

Shelves lined the small room's walls and nearly every bit of them was covered with real books, printed on paper and bound in leather and cloth. Iason had a pretty decent collection, but this! It was something else altogether.

When he finally tore his eyes away from the amazing sight and looked back at the pet, the boy's cheeks had gone up in flames.

"I—like them," the younger man said. "The look and feel of reading and touching pages and the smell of the binding. So Matt buys them for me. I—I've told him not to a hundred times, that it's too expensive, but he keeps doing it. And—and since... he's brought me so many. Since."

The thin chest heaved in a shuddery breath as the boy tried not to cry. Riki gulped, tears burning his own eyes. He dashed them away furiously.

"I think it's great," he said staunchly. "Guy's gotta have a hobby and yours ain't the worst by far. Some people," he told the other boy, "like to shoot weres out in the Waste then stick the poor cats' heads on a wall." He shook his head in disgust. "No accounting for taste, 'cause some morons haven't got any."

The pet was giggling again, his cheeks a pretty pink without the unhealthy flush and Riki breathed an inner sigh of relief. Disaster averted.

"So what's your name? I don't think you said."

"Oh!" The boy looked startled. "Sorry, I'm forgetting my manners. I'm Tir."

"Well Tir," Riki said with a grin, "Don't worry about manners around me. Iason tells me every day that I wouldn't know tact if it came up and bit me on the ass."

Tir's mouth curved in a truly lovely smile and the purple eyes sparkled at him. Good gods, with all that night-black hair and pale skin, plus those eyes, the kid was a stunner. Riki figured that in peak health Tir could probably knock a guy silly with just that smile.

"You're really funny," the kid said.

"That's me, a laugh a minute," Riki snorted, rolling his eyes. "Look, do you mind if I come in and take a load off? I think I've been upright since oh-six-hundred."

"Oh yes! Please do. I'm just... a little nervous these days," Tir said, looking down at his hands.

"Only makes sense, kid," Riki said, his voice as matter-of-fact as he could make it. "You bored out of your skull, yet? Being in bed sucks, and I should know. I guess I just spent the last two years flat on my back in a hospital."

Tir's eyes got even bigger.

"T-two years? What happened to you?"

"Oh, I managed to get myself blown up," he replied cheerfully. "Lucky for me Iason was along for the ride, and Jupiter hates to be without her favorite Blondie, so she brought me back with him. Probably 'cause she knew Iason'd throw the mother of all shit-fits if she didn't."

Tir looked like he wanted to laugh but was too shocked to do it.

"She—she can do that?" he asked in an awed whisper.

Riki shrugged.

"I've given up trying to figure out exactly what her limitations are," he said. "Must be Blondie indifference rubbing off."

Tir seemed to consider this.

"I don't mean to be rude," he said hesitantly, "but—how did it happen? If you don't mind my asking," he added hastily.

"I've got nothing but time, kid, and it looks like your feet are pretty much nailed down for now, so you've got no choice but to listen to me. Ha! I have you in my clutches. You'll never get me to shut up!"

Tir was laughing, his face lit up with it.

"Seriously," Riki said, "I'll tell you the whole weird story, if you really want. The gods know it's been strange actually living it."

Tir settled back into his pillows, getting comfortable.

"That sounds just right," he said in a satisfied tone. "Go ahead, whenever."

"Alright." Riki marshaled his thoughts, sending them back six years into the past. "This all started a long time ago. See, I used to be a Ceres street rat. Then one day I wandered into Midas, looking to steal a car..."

---

"...and then I woke up in the hospital."

Riki reached for the bottle of water sitting next to him and took a long drink. Talking so much all in one stretch was enough to dry up your throat for good. Tir had a portable cooler in the room, though, and he'd told Riki to help himself.

The boy was sitting up as straight as he could, his eyes wide as saucers. He'd been like that through the whole story. A pink tongue darted out and moistened lips that had more color than when Riki'd first come in.

"I—I don't know what to say." Tir sounded shell-shocked. "I've... never heard anything like it before."

"Yeah, well, lately things have been a lot less exciting and it's damn nice, let me tell you," Riki returned in a dry tone. "I'm sick of all the up-and-down bullshit."

Dark lashes veiled violet eyes.

"I guess that makes sense."

"So what about you?" Riki pulled one bent leg up against his chest and wrapped an arm around it, resting his chin on his knee. "What's a sane mongrel like you doing in a nut-house like this?"

"Actually," Tir said, his mouth curving up, "there are a lot of mongrels in the Citadel. The League will take anyone who wants to join, no questions asked, and if you're not a citizen there aren't many better options. At least here they get job-training and reliable food, shelter and clothing."

"I see your point," Riki said thoughtfully. "If I'd known that about eight years ago, I might have done it myself. But that's not what I asked." He pinned the younger man with a look. "I want to know how you got here. I don't want to piss you off, kid, but Centurion material you ain't."

Tir sighed.

"I know. Too thin, too short, too pretty."

The last word was pronounced with such loathing that Riki had to laugh.

"Nothing wrong with being pretty, kid. Got you a Blondie's attention, didn't it?"

The kid blushed from the neck up.

"But—that's the thing. Matt didn't pick me for the way I looked. He knew about me for a long time before he ever saw me."

"Okay Tir, please say you're not gonna tease me, here. I showed you mine, now you gotta reciprocate."

The blush got even darker and Tir fixed his eyes firmly on the quilt that covered his lower body.

"My parents died when I was twelve. We lived in Midas, but I figured the govvies would put me in a Ceres orphanage since I was a mongrel with no other family.

I knew some street kids who did errands for a man in Mistraal. I suppose you could say he was a thief. He did everything through the Space and I was good with a terminal, so I helped him 'redistribute funds' for a place to live and enough credits to get by.

Later, I picked up other clients and for a couple of years I did well."

Tir's head lifted and he stared dreamily at the bookshelves surrounding him.

"I'm still not sure what I did wrong. When you move around the Space all the time, though, your signature gets noticed. And mine did. My boss commed me, telling me to get out 'cause the cops were coming. Matt got to me first when he caught me going down the fire escape.

I thought I was dead for sure, but he took me to a diner and fed me. Then he talked.

I guess he'd been watching me move credits around for a year, waiting to see how soon I'd get caught. He said he wanted someone who could sneak through the Space without leaving traces behind.

He was a Centurion and a Blondie and both those things scared me, but the thought of prison was worse, so I told him yes. I wouldn't last long on the inside," Tir said pragmatically. "Anyway, the best and least suspicious way for me to get into the Citadel was as Matt's pet, so he registered me. And here I am."

Riki stared at the other boy.

"That's almost as crazy as my story, kid. A pet who isn't really a pet. He give you a ring?"

"I have one," Tir said earnestly, "but I never wear it and I have the release code. Matt said I needed to at least keep one around, just in case I have to act like a real pet."

The words wriggled around in Riki's head, poking at something in the back of his mind that'd been nagging at him subliminally for a while. Then he realized... he wasn't wearing a ring anymore. Iason had neglected to replace it, and since that Blondie never made mistakes, it must have been deliberate.

He could hear Tir talking through the haze of shock that clouded his mind, but the words were distant and muted.

Riki had long since gotten over the belief that Iason would actually use the thing against him; he figured that if the Blondie hadn't zapped him when Riki was at his defiant worst, he never would. But for Iason to leave it off... he needed to think about this, and not here where too many other things were distracting him.

"Riki?"

Tir's voice penetrated the fog, and Riki looked over at the other mongrel.

"Yeah. Sorry, zoned out for a minute there. What did you say?"

"I just said—you must care for your master a great deal."

"I love him," Riki said simply, and knew that it was true. "He's mine."

"And he loves you?"

Riki nodded. He could hear Iason's voice murmuring those words clearly in his head. One of these days he'd get up the nerve to say it back.

"Your Captain Vere cares a lot about you, too. I mean, he wouldn't have Iason doing this thing, if he didn't."

"What thing?"

Riki looked at Tir in surprise. The boy was bending forward, his eyes fixed intently on Riki's face.

"What is it that Matt is doing, Riki? I need to know."

"I—he put in an S&D with Iason."

"What is that?"

"A Search and Destroy. That's what we call it in Midas. 'Cause when that Blondie goes after somebody there isn't much left to clean up when he's done. Iason and Katze... you don't want to fuck with either one of them, 'cause the other'll be all over your ass."

All the color drained from Tir's face and he stared at Riki in horror.

"He's going after them, isn't he? The men who—." He broke off, shuddering. "I made Matt promise he wouldn't kill them."

"Well he kept his word. They're not gonna be dead, they're just gonna wish they were."

Tir's eyes looked bruised and hopeless.

"I just want it to be over," he whispered. "I want Matt to be safe."

"Look, he was smart enough to get someone who knows what he's doing to take care of it. I'm sure Iason told him to keep his nose clean and stay out of it until it's done."

"Do you think so?"

"I know so." Riki borrowed Iason's 'I-am-Blondie-my-word-is-law' tone. It seemed to work, since a little of the worry in Tir's eyes lifted.

"Now, kid, since we're both stuck here for now, I consider it my duty to introduce you to one of the two really enjoyable things you can do when you're sick in bed."

Tir's cheeks grew rosy once more and Riki grinned wickedly.

"Naw, that's the other one. Much more fun, but I think Iason would castrate me again if I even thought about it. You're just gonna have to make do with Intergalactic Poker."

When Tir threw his head back and laughed, Riki felt that he'd done his good deed for the day.

9

Mattias Vere stepped through the port to his rooms in Team 15's headquarters and stopped, frozen by the sound that met his ears.

Tir was laughing. He'd thought he would never hear that rippling music ever again. His eyes closed and he swallowed against the relief gripping his throat.

Moving on silent feet, he walked quietly to Tir's door and looked in.

Tir was sitting up on the bed, white fingers toying with the cards in his hands, face bright and happy as he looked at the boy who sat across from him, legs folded into some unbelievably flexible position.

Mattias examined Iason Mink's pet closely. Not a boy, after all. The black-haired mongrel looked only a few years younger than himself.

He hadn't known what to expect from the pet of a man like Mink, whose motivations and desires were shrouded by the outrageous rumors surrounding him. When Mink had died, supposedly rescuing a mongrel, the mongrel now sitting across from Tir, Mattias hadn't known whether to believe it or not. He did now, unequivocally.

The man was gorgeous; living, breathing proof that genetic design was not the only way to achieve perfection. His face didn't have the pure beauty that Tir's possessed in such abundance, but then, it didn't need it. The features were dark and sensual, the full mouth and huge, midnight eyes promising unspeakable pleasure. High cheekbones and a straight nose gave him an almost elegant profile and winged brows swooped dramatically down over the long-lashed eyes.

He turned his attention back to Tir. Back to his—what? He'd never considered Tir his pet. Tir was himself, not officially a Centurion, but a valued member of Mattias' Team, none-the-less. And an irreplaceable part of Mattias' life.

Tir had gotten them out of innumerable tight situations and Mattias didn't doubt that he'd have lost any amount of men over the years, if not for the boy. When he'd gotten the call from the infirmary...

Mattias didn't like to think about the way Tir had looked, so small against the clean white sheets, his beautiful face battered and cut. He'd told the doctors to get that damned brand off the boy's cheek before the scars became too fixed to remove easily.

The bandages should come off soon, and he'd be able to tell how well they'd done their jobs. If Tir had to see what those animals had carved into his skin, Mattias didn't think he'd be able to control the rage that still roiled inside him. Iason Mink notwithstanding, he'd go after the bastards himself.

"Matt!"

He looked up at Tir's joyous cry. Violet eyes sparkled at him and the smile Mattias had sorely missed spread over the boy's face. The mongrel sitting next to the bed set his cards down and rose.

Black eyes met his fearlessly and one long-fingered brown hand was extended to him. Mattias recalled Iason Mink doing the same just a couple of weeks ago. It had surprised him then, since it wasn't a gesture a Blondie would typically employ. He was familiar with it from living with the Teams for almost five years. Obviously the link between Mink and the man in front of him went both ways.

Grasping the mongrel's hand, he nodded a greeting.

"Captain Vere. I'm Riki. I'm sure you already know that Iason sent me."

"Yes. I see you've made Tir's acquaintance."

"Sure." A lopsided smile tilted Riki's mouth. "He was nice enough to keep me company while I was waiting."

And that was a miracle in itself. That Tir had liked this man enough to let him near settled the last of Mattias' concerns. Walking over to the futon, he sat down on the side, reaching out to smooth Tir's long hair back from his face. The boy leaned into his touch, and the inappropriate response Mattias always felt spread throughout his entire body, lust and love combining to focus his need for Tir into something desperate.

He pushed it aside, shoving it into the murky reaches of his mind. If he let the emotions free they would consume him and Tir would bear the brunt of it, an outcome he refused to allow. Reigning himself in, he met Tir's anxious eyes.

"How do you feel?"

"Oh, better, really."

It was Tir's typical response, but today it sounded true. The boy leaned forward and took his hand, gazing earnestly up at him.

"Riki's been really nice and he explained some things to me that I didn't understand.

So—I think I'll be a lot better now."

Mattias shot the dark mongrel a startled look but the man just shrugged. When Riki let his eyes slide towards the door then back to him, Matt got the point quickly.

"I'm glad," he said to Tir, cupping the pale, undamaged cheek. "I have to talk to Riki about some things, little one, but I'll be back after that and we can read or play chess, if you want."

"All right." The boy looked over at Riki. "Will you come back some time? I enjoyed talking to you."

"Sure, kid. I'll be back."

Tir nodded and relaxed back into the pillows, closing his eyes. He was better, but it seemed that the past hour or so had tired him. Mattias caressed the dark head gently and stood, following Riki through the port and closing it.

"Let's go in my office," he said shortly.

The mongrel trailed him into the small room and Matt sealed the port behind them. Walking over to his desk, he sat on the edge then turned his attention to the man propped against the wall, hands shoved deep into pockets.

"The end of the week," the mongrel said without preamble. "Should start around Seventh-day and be over by Tenth. And there's gonna be more than just the six you gave us going down. You've got one hell of a body buried in your basement, Vere, and it's gonna be a while before the stench clears."

Mattias' mouth tightened.

"I thought that would be the case," he said. "I've had my suspicions for quite some time, but I wasn't sure until—until Tir."

Riki's lip curled.

"Bunch of fucking cowards. What the hell were they thinking, going after him?"

"They were thinking that Tir is my unofficial Intelligence Officer and main back-up support for the Team," Mattias said in a tired voice. "He follows us through the Space when we're active and operating under the wire."

The mongrel straightened in surprise.

"You mean the kid? He does all that? You gotta be joking."

"I'm not." Mattias scrubbed a hand over his face. Damn, he needed a shower. He'd come straight here from maneuvers when Jaz commed him, not wanting to leave Tir alone with a stranger.

"He was already talented when I found him in Midas, working for some petty crime-lord. Now—he's the best. And some people have long suspected that I didn't bring him here for his pretty face. There have been several officers who've requested his 'services'. I've always refused point blank."

He looked up and met Riki's gaze squarely.

"They must have found out that he was investigating some of them and panicked. Gods, why couldn't I just have left it alone?!"

"You're a Blondie," Riki said, amused. "I don't think it's in your genes."

He shot the mongrel a dirty look.

"I can't believe Iason Mink would put up with you on a daily basis."

"Hey, hey, let's not get personal here. And don't insult my Blondie."

Mattias had the distinct feeling the mongrel was laughing at him behind those brilliant black eyes.

"Look, just stay clear for a couple of weeks. Don't give the authorities any reason to believe you're involved. And if you won't do it for yourself, do it for the kid. He's worried that you're gonna pull something stupid and get yourself killed."

"I will. I already promised. But it's hard to sit here with my hands tied. Tir... he almost died."

Riki's gaze was compassionate but uncompromising.

"Trust me, Vere. Anything you could do to them would be a micron on what Iason and Katze can come up with. And by the way, Iason sends his thanks. We would have had to deal with these guys eventually, but you gave us a really big advantage. Katze already knew about the shipments, he just wasn't sure of the source."

Pushing himself away from the wall Riki walked towards the port.

"Can you get me a legitimate pass so I can come see the kid sometimes? I know what it's like to be stuck in one place."

"Yes." Mattias looked carefully at the other man. "You don't mind? I'm gone most of the time and it would be nice for him to have someone to talk to besides the men. They're good soldiers but not exactly... scintillating conversationalists."

Riki laughed.

"Tir's good company. You've got my com code and he can call me whenever he needs to. Get the pass to Katze and tell the kid I'll be by when things calm down. And now would you please find me someone who knows this ridot warren? I'm ready to get out of here, but I've got no clue how to do it."

Mattias smiled at the plaintive note in the mongrel's voice. Comming Jaz, he sent Riki off with him, then headed for the lav. He'd get a quick shower then take Tir back to their quarters.

It had been a bad day and he needed to spend some time with the one person on the planet who demanded nothing from him, yet deserved everything he had to give and more. If only he knew how to do it without hurting Tir worse than he already had been.

10

"The antibiotics seem to be working, Sir, but he needs rest and fluids. The tearing is closed and he's no longer bleeding, so keep him quiet and he should be back on his feet in a few days."

"Thank you. I'll have payment sent to your account."

"It was easy enough to fix. Some pets are not so lucky."

"He's not a pet. But he was fortunate."

The voices spun out around him, their words making no sense. One of them seemed both familiar and alien; as if he'd heard it before, but didn't know the speaker. It blended smoothly into the varied images of his dreams until nothing seemed real.

Riki stood before him, hands shoved into the pockets of his old, ripped jeans, sorrow and disappointment in his eyes as he looked at Guy. He turned away without speaking, walking easily down the deserted path to Dana Bahn's entrance.

Guy shouted for him to stop, tried desperately to move, but he could only watch while Riki vanished into the shadows, just as a bright explosion rent the air. The backwash of heat and fire caught him up and he felt momentary relief. This time he too would die and it would finally be over.

A hand closed around his arm, yanking him back from the flames, and he found himself looking up into the face of a Blondie who was not Iason Mink. This man was even more beautiful, if that was possible. Though he'd hated Mink with all his being, he still couldn't help but think the platinum-haired Blondie was the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. The Elite holding him negated that belief.

Wavy hair the color of gold spilled over wide shoulders and intense blue-green eyes stared at him from a face that gave new meaning to the word 'perfect'.

"Do you want to die so badly, then?" the man asked him, nothing more than mild curiosity coloring his rich voice.

Guy wanted to shout 'yes', wanted to fling his defiance in the face of this Elite the way he had with Iason, but for some reason his vocal chords refused to obey.

"I don't know!" he screamed at the Blondie. "I don't know what I want. Why don't you just leave me alone?"

The Blondie gazed at him, something like regret in those turquoise eyes.

"I cannot," he said. "I gave my word."

Then he, too, was gone and Guy spiraled down into a blackness so deep there was no end or beginning to it, just infinite nothing. Closing his eyes, he gave in to the promise of oblivion and let himself fall.

---

The ceiling was a fluid collage of swirling color and he stared at it in confusion. It certainly wasn't something he'd seen before.

Raising himself up on one elbow, Guy looked around. The room was plain, almost Spartan, but the few pieces of furniture looked beautifully crafted and expensive. The surface beneath him cradled his body in soft luxury and he stroked his hands over the sheets.

He'd never in his life felt fabric like that. Where the hell was he?

"You decided to wake, I see."

The voice made him jump and he turned his head to see a man standing in the doorway. A Blondie, of all people!

The Elite came forward and the bright sun streaming through the windows illumined his features. Guy stared, struck dumb by the sheer beauty of the man. He'd seen this Blondie in his dream. And... The Laocoon!

His last night at the BDSM club came rushing back and he remembered the man in front of him picking him up and carrying him out of the place. Nothing else.

"Who are you? Where am I?" he asked carefully, not wanting to piss the Elite off. He'd had a lifetime's worth of beatings over the past week and a half and he sure didn't need one administered by a Blondie. He had good reason to know that a punch from one of them felt like crashing your bike. Into a concrete wall. Without a helmet.

The Blondie walked over to stand at the foot of Guy's bed. Blue-green eyes studied him without expression.

"I am Raoul Jervaux and this is my home. I brought you here from The Laocoon."

"Yeah, I remember."

Guy sat up the rest of the way.

"How do you feel?"

He took a cautious inventory of his aches and to his surprise, found them to be slight.

"A lot better." He looked up at Raoul. "Whatever you did, it worked. Thanks."

"Do not thank me. I am only doing what I must to improve your condition to the point that I may begin your training."

Guy looked at the other man, their conversation at the club running through his mind.

"For the Arena."

"Yes." Raoul crossed his arms. "I will teach you the force-sword and various other weapons, depending on how quickly you learn."

The Blondie looked away, his face growing stern.

"The success of the teacher depends greatly on the will of the student. I can give you the skills to survive... but only if you want them."

Those penetrating eyes turned back to fix directly on his.

"Do you wish to live or die? It is more of a choice than you gave Riki and Iason."

Guy couldn't think straight with so much gorgeous Blondie glaring at him. He knew he should answer, but his mouth wasn't working right.

Finally, Raoul released him from that disconcerting gaze, pacing gracefully towards the door. He stopped just shy of the port and spoke without turning.

"You will be here for two months. It is your decision as to what you will do with that time. If you do not wish to train, you may stay in this room until the Arena's guards come for you.

If you want to learn, be in the dojo tomorrow at oh-six-hundred. I have removed the collar and ring. The Arena will doubtless replace them, but for now I do not feel you need them.

Rest. I will see you tomorrow. Or not at all."

The Blondie vanished through the port, the door sliding closed behind him.

Guy sat on the bed, turning Raoul's words over in his mind, especially the question the Blondie had asked him. Did he want to die?

Whatever else, that was suddenly clear to him. He didn't. He looked down at his hands. They'd gripped the handles of a bike since he'd turned fourteen and stolen his first ride. Now they would learn the weight of a blade.

Somewhere inside him, interest sparked. There were different variations of force sword. The gladiators of the arena usually carried two: a long-sword and a shorter, broader blade for close fighting. He'd been to watch melee a couple of times with the rest of Bison. It wasn't his thing, but at least now he had some idea of what he was headed for.

He wondered, suddenly, what kind of blade Raoul would teach him. He'd seen the weapons usually favored by Elites: long, thin and elegant, they were more suited to fencing salons than the Arena. Somehow, though, he didn't see either type of weapon as Raoul's choice.

Well. He'd find out tomorrow. Lying back on the mattress beneath him, he watched the odd colors swirl over the ceiling. He didn't contemplate escape. Eos was Elite heaven and he wouldn't get far, even if he could elude Raoul. He recalled vividly what had happened the last time he tangled with a Blondie, and he didn't think evasion was even a possibility.

Still occupied with thoughts of force-swords and Raoul, he never even noticed when he fell asleep.

---

"I had expected you sooner."

Raoul watched Iason walk into his great room and drop into the seat opposite him. The other Blondie was dressed for the evening in the formal style, a ruby cloak rippling as he moved.

"I've been somewhat preoccupied," his friend replied. "And I trust your judgment. If you felt the mongrel was ready to leave, I'm sure he was."

"I dislike senseless violence," Raoul said, an edge to his voice.

Iason's lips quirked.

"So I told Katze. He then informed me that he quite agreed with you and suggested we tear the place down."

Raoul suppressed the urge to laugh. Katze was a strange one, but he liked the man.

"In any case, I'm on my way to the condo to pick Riki up and I wanted to let you know about a few things before they make the news."

"What have you done this time?"

Iason threw his head back and laughed.

"Good gods, Raoul. If I'd ever had a mother, I'm sure she would've sounded just like you."

The blonde Elite frowned disapprovingly at his friend.

"Don't you think it's a little soon to start causing trouble again? Look what happened last time."

"You're nagging, Raoul."

He stared at Iason in astonishment.

"I'm what?"

"Nagging. That's what Riki said I was doing when he first got home from the hospital." Iason expression turned contemplative. "It's a good word, don't you think?"

Raoul was speechless.

"But I'm not here to debate vocabulary with you. I thought you should know that the internal leadership of the Citadel is about to undergo some massive changes. The major quakes should settle in a few weeks, but until then, there's going to be a good many arrests and a lot of media attention. I believe this will be the first time something like this has ever happened within the ranks of the League."

Staring at Iason, Raoul formulated and discarded several responses before opening his mouth.

"Who, what and why?"

Iason's mouth curved.

"Straight to the point as always. The who is a faction within League that spans all ranks and goes straight to the top. The what is a drug we banned ten years ago. They've been selling off world, using military transports and business to hide their shipments. The why... well that's complicated.

You remember Mattias Vere?"

"Yes. Don't tell me he's behind this, I wouldn't believe it."

"I won't, because he isn't. He suspected a number of his fellow officers and asked his pet to investigate them. They found out and had the boy abducted and raped almost to death."

"Why in the name of the gods was a pet involved in this?"

"Remind me to tell you a very interesting story one of these days when I'm not pressed for time. Riki met the pet in question and liked him a great deal. The boy comms the condo almost every day."

"A pet?!"

"Not really. But I'll tell you about that some other time. Just watch the news vid tomorrow or the next day. It'll be detailed, I'm sure. Katze has instructions to send those jackals a report as soon as the arrests begin."

Iason pushed to his feet and Raoul rose with him.

"How is the mongrel? Behaving himself?"

"Yes."

His friend's look was amused and Raoul avoided the icy blue eyes.

"They are fascinating creatures, are they not, Raoul?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mongrels. Or certain ones, I should say. Jupiter could never build someone like that. Too simple, and yet... one cannot replicate such fire and will."

"I would think that might be considered a good thing," Raoul said coldly.

"Oh Raoul. You are definitely in for a shock. Do you know, I don't hate Guy for trying to kill me... and succeeding. I understand his motivations thoroughly. Do you think I wouldn't have had him killed if I thought that would erase him from Riki's mind and heart? Yes. Guy and I have always understood one another."

"Then why...?"

"Why capture him, you mean? I want to make sure he doesn't get stupid. I will not let him wreck Riki's peace of mind and our life together all over again.

And though I could forgive him for killing me... well, Riki is another matter. He cut my mongrel to get that damned ring off him."

Appalled, Raoul sucked in a quick breath. Lips compressed into a thin line and face livid, Iason was fury personified.

"You mean he-,"

"Yes. And he is lucky I'm not the one disciplining him. I'd be tempted to do the same to him."

11

"Stop."

Guy froze before the dojo's open door.

"Bow before you enter. It shows respect for this place and those who have gone before you in their pursuit of the Way."

Obeying without protest, he bent slightly then came to stand just inside the room.

Raoul knelt before a shrine at the far side of the room, his back to the door and Guy. His outfit was black, a loose tunic and trousers that seemed to flow around him. Guy looked down at his own clothes, very like the Blondie's, only white in color.

When he'd awakened this morning they'd been lying across the end of his bed. He'd finally figured out how to tie the tunic correctly then hesitantly approached his room's port. To his surprise, it slid open and he'd gone looking for Raoul.

The Blondie had no servants, human or android, so he'd wandered down the halls until he found an open door. The one to this room.

The walls were white, brilliantly so, the floor wood polished by years of use. Must be imported, he thought. Amoi had little in the way of forests. Early morning sun streamed through a wide bank of tall windows that stretched the length of the room.

Raoul finally rose from his meditation and turned to look at Guy. Turquoise eyes seemed to bore right through him, exposing all the angry, selfish corners of his soul and he cringed inwardly.

Without speaking, the Blondie walked to a sword rack on the near left wall. Lifting a blade, he came to stand in front of Guy. Silently, Raoul unsheathed the sword, holding it up for the mongrel's inspection.

It was long, as long as the heavy weapons used by the gladiators, but slimmer and slightly curved. Its elegant arc shone with clear, steely brilliance, the mirror-bright surface reflecting his awed face back at him.

"It is a katana. Not the typical weapon of a professional fighter, nor one favored by Elites. I've found it to be quite effective against many kinds of weapons. It is more flexible than the broadsword yet it can hold it's own against the heavier blade in a way the rapier or epée cannot."

Raoul moved so fast that Guy saw only blurred motion and by then the Blondie's blade was resting against his throat. Blue-green eyes watched him emotionlessly.

"The katana is the weapon of a dedicated swordsman. Do you intend to be?"

Swallowing carefully against the razor-edged sword resting on his throat, Guy forced himself to meet Raoul's eyes as fearlessly as he could manage.

"You said to come today, or not at all. I'm here, aren't I?"

The blade lifted instantly.

"You are."

Returning to the rack, Raoul replaced the katana and took down two others. He threw one to Guy, who caught it reflexively.

"For the next two weeks we will be using wood trainers. After that we switch to naked blades. The force-fields will be activated. You will get no quarter in the Arena and I will offer you none here.

You have never handled a sword, correct?"

Guy shrugged.

"Knives. In Ceres you get pretty good at that kind of fighting."

Raoul considered this.

"It will give you an edge in close combat. Come."

Guy followed the Blondie to the center of the room and stood waiting.

"You must find your center. Your stance is one of the most important things I will teach you. You must learn to keep your feet no matter how difficult it may be. Once you go down, you will stay there. In the Arena that means death."

Raoul circled him, watching.

"Grip the hilt with both hands... then ground yourself. Feel the blade in your hands and your feet against the wood. Your body is the conduit between sword and ground. You must learn to feel that connection."

The strike came out of nowhere and he automatically brought the wooden sword in his hands up to block it. He felt the power of the blow through his entire body, from his wrists down to his feet. And he understood what Raoul meant by grounding.

He hadn't been ready for it, hadn't known what to expect, or how to brace for it. So now he was on the floor. The Blondie came to stand over him.

"You have good instincts. Not one in a hundred untrained men would have been able to even partially block the way you did."

He extended a hand.

"Now get up and we'll do it again."

---

He had no idea how long they repeated the exercise. He picked himself up time and again, trying to find the inner balance he needed to stand against the Blondie's strikes, while Raoul systematically took him down, over and over.

The sun had moved to the western side of the room by the time he was able to retain his stance against the blows. They were both breathing hard and drenched with sweat.

"Good."

Raoul's eyes met his across their wooden blades.

"You feel the balance of the three?"

"I—yes. I guess I do."

"Excellent," said his golden-haired tormentor. And attacked.

12

Raoul stood over the man sprawled across the worn tri-wood floor and shook his head in disgust.

"Get up."

One grey eye cracked open.

"If it's all the same to you, Sensei, I don't think I want to. It's safer down here."

"Up."

"Hell, you kicked my mongrel ass all over the dojo about fifty times, today. Aren't you satisfied yet?"

"Watch your language. This is not one of your back-alley dives."

"Uh, yeah, I think I noticed that a while back, Sensei."

Raoul was glad Guy had closed his eyes again. That way the mongrel couldn't see the corners of his mouth twitch. The boy made him want to laugh with his sarcastic tongue and quick come-backs.

At his feet, Guy pushed himself into a sitting position and groaned.

"Ah man, I hurt in places I didn't even know I had."

"Good. Get well acquainted with them. I'm sure you'll become quite familiar with the sensation over the next seven weeks. And to answer your earlier question, I won't be satisfied until I am the one on my ass on the ground. Up."

Guy raised his head and looked at Raoul.

"Seriously, Sensei, it's evening and neither one of us has eaten since about five this morning. You didn't even go to work today! I know what you're trying to do for me, and I appreciate it, but we don't get some food soon, one of us is gonna pass out. I'm pretty sure it's gonna be me."

Startled, the Blondie finally registered the late-afternoon shadows on the walls. The sun was nearly down. And his stomach felt hollow enough to cave in on itself. He hadn't even noticed.

"You're right."

Gasping in feigned shock, Guy clapped his hands against his cheeks.

"The world is ending. A Blondie just said a mongrel was right about something. We're all gonna die!"

Raoul rolled his eyes as Guy cringed theatrically.

"If you're quite done, go take a shower and order us something from the kitchens. I'll join you in the great room when I'm clean."

He eyed his sweat-soaked gi with distaste.

"I swear, Sensei, a felis ain't got nothing on you."

Raoul shot his walking attitude problem a nasty look and stalked from the dojo while Guy collapsed back on the floor in laughter.

By the time he arrived in his great room, tightening the belt of his black silk robe, Guy had activated the vid-screen and was staring fixedly at it.

"Sensei?"

"Hmmn?"

"I think you need to see this."

Raoul drifted over to sit on the back of the lounge and turned his attention to the news. About thirty seconds later he was pacing and swearing , stopping to glance at the offending screen then swearing some more.

"Uh, Sensei?"

"Why can't he keep out of trouble for a few months? Why?"

"Sensei."

"Is that so much to ask? Obviously, yes."

"Sensei!"

"What?!"

He whirled on Guy, glaring at him.

"Food's here."

The Blondie took a deep breath then let it go, deliberately relaxing his clenched jaw.

"I apologize for yelling."

Guy grinned ruefully.

"I've done enough of it myself that I'm probably due some. Ready for dinner?"

"Yes."

Guy let the servitor in and they waited while he arranged the table before bowing himself out. The mongrel ate hungrily, but Raoul pushed the food around on his plate, earlier appetite gone.

"What's wrong, Sensei?"

Looking up into misty eyes, Raoul wished with all his being that Guy was any normal student. That the boy would train here until he reached his second Dan, then go out and make a name for himself on the competition circuit. Foolishness. The Blondie closed his eyes.

"That's some deal up at the Citadel, huh? I never heard anything like it. Only time we ever saw the League down in Ceres was during riot suppression. I guess they've got their own set of problems, just like everybody else."

"Yes."

"Is—is it... Iason? Is he why you're mad?"

The look on Guy's face was odd; hesitant and worried with a slight tinge of fear underneath. Raoul sighed, letting his exasperation out with his breath. Gods, but he was tired.

"In a way. I have reason to believe he was instrumental in this business with the Centurions. In Tanagura, any major event has his hand in it somewhere."

"Yeah, I kind of figured," Guy lowered his eyes. "He's your friend, isn't he? I mean, you wouldn't put up with me if he wasn't."

"He is. The best I've ever had. But I think I could 'put up with you' even without Iason's influence. You show promise. I have always enjoyed honing true ability."

"Yeah?"

Guy's grey eyes glowed at him.

"Yes."

"I like it," the mongrel said. "I wish I'd had something like the Way when I was a kid. Problem with Ceres is too many young guys with nothing to do."

Raoul stared at the mongrel, startled. Guy's observation was devastatingly simple. And shrewdly accurate. With no talents to cultivate or mind-stimulating learning available, the residents of the Ceres slums drifted through life with no direction or discipline.

He studied the man across from him. How hard it must have been for Guy, whose intellect wouldn't have been out of place in an Elite, to have no goal on which to focus his intense will.

"Will you join me for meditation this evening?" he asked abruptly.

Guy looked surprised for a moment, then a smile tilted his full lips.

"Yeah. I mean... Yes, Sensei."

Raoul nodded and turned his attention back to his dinner. For some reason, he was suddenly very hungry.

---

Tir watched the vid-screen with unblinking eyes, his fingernails digging into the skin of his palms.

There they were, right in front of him, after a month and a half of trying to forget. He shuddered, trying to escape into the depths of the couch.

"Tir?"

It was Matt's voice, and the man himself appeared within the next instant, leaning over the lounge to see what he was watching.

There was a strangled noise, then the Blondie was around the couch and the vid was suddenly off. Matt turned slowly to look at him, Hell in the sky-blue eyes.

"Why—you didn't need to see that. Tir... please don't do this."

Dry sobs caught in his throat and he barely suppressed the tears that threatened.

"I do. I had to see them, Matt. I wanted to know that it's finally over."

"Tir."

The Blondie he loved so hopelessly sank down onto the couch and drew him against the strong body.

"Little one, no one will ever do that again. Not to you. Tir. Do you think if I'd

known... It was my fault. Everything that happened. I allowed it through my complacent stupidity."

"No. No, Matt. We didn't expect any of this."

"But you see... I did." Those blue eyes stared at him, self-hatred in their depths. "I knew it was going to be bad, but I still involved you. It was wrong."

Tir could barely speak through the sadness choking him.

"Did you see that happening, Matt? Did you?"

The strong throat moved, swallowing convulsively.

"No."

The word emerged as a strangled whisper, and Tir leaned forward into Mattias Vere's arms.

"If you with your Blondie mind couldn't predict the rape," Tir forced the word out, made himself say it, "then I don't think anyone could. It wasn't your fault, Matt. It was theirs."

The blonde Elite bent until his face was buried in Tir's throat. The young mongrel stroked the Blondie's head as his neck grew wet with Mattias' grief.

---

"Riki."

"In a minute, Iason."

The Blondie watched his mongrel from the great room's doorway.

"We're going to be late."

"Uh-huh."

Iason's mouth quirked at Riki's absent tone.

"And purple monkeys are going to fly out of my ass."

"Uh—huh!?"

Startled black eyes whipped around to regard him.

"That's better. I didn't think I was going to get your attention and we're leaving for that banquet in Mistraal in... oh, about ten minutes."

Riki's lips twitched.

"Purple monkeys, Iason?"

"You've given me some bad habits, Pet. Really, it's not my fault."

The mongrel snorted rudely while Iason attempted to look innocent.

"Don't bother, Blondie, it ain't gonna work." Riki gestured towards the screen. "Don't you wanna get a look at Katze's handiwork?"

Iason glanced at the news-vid.

"Not really. Katze's performance has been nothing but exemplary for the entire time I've known him. Even when nosing into things he shouldn't, he did it without flaw. Why should I worry now?"

"Because this is even bigger than we expected, Iason." Riki's tone was serious. "I don't want this coming back to bite you on the ass, Blondie. I'm not gonna put up with it, no matter how much you respect Vere. He's a great guy and Tir's a good friend, but I gotta have my priorities."

Iason's lips parted and his eyes narrowed. Walking over to the couch, he pulled his Pet up into his arms.

"You always say the important things when I'm too busy to do anything about it, Riki. I'm beginning to think it's deliberate."

"Anyone ever tell you you're paranoid, Blondie?"

Iason laughed and leaned down to kiss his mongrel.

"Who but you would dare?"

Drawing back slightly, he noticed Riki's attire for the first time.

"You look beautiful, Riki. Is that for me?"

The mongrel wore black silk slacks with a matching, unstructured jacket and tight-fitting shirt of dark red. The ruby stud Iason had given him for his twenty-first birthday glinted against the fall of dark hair.

Riki shrugged, looking uncomfortable.

"I didn't want to get you in trouble with the snobs. Can't have them saying that Iason Mink's pet isn't housebroken."

One white-gloved hand tilted the pointed chin up. Blue eyes smiled warmly into black.

"Riki, you should know by now that I don't give a damn what they say."

"Yeah, well, I do. We gotta live in this town, Blondie, and I don't want to make it any rougher for you than it already is."

Leaning forward, Iason brushed his mouth against Riki's.

"Thank you for that, love. It means a lot to me that you would even think about it."

"Mm."

Riki pulled Iason closer and returned the brief kiss with interest.

"Enough." Reluctantly, Iason pulled away. "In about two seconds we're not just going to be late. We'll miss the event all together."

Riki hung his arms around the Blondie's neck. Sultry eyes slanted a seductive look up at him.

"And that would be bad, how?"

Iason closed one hand firmly around one of the mongrel's wrists.

"We're going. Now."

"Oh, alright. Screen off."

The vid flickered out and the screen disappeared into the wall.

"I hope Tir wasn't watching that," Riki said as Iason hustled him out the door.

"Tir, nothing. If Raoul caught even part of it, I'm in for the scold of the century."

Iason's apprehensive tone made Riki grin as the elevator's doors enclosed them.

"Iason, sometimes I think his disapproval is the only thing on the planet that can put the fear of the Gods into you."

"It is," the Blondie said promptly.

Riki was still laughing when Iason shoved him into the car.

>> The Other Side – part 2

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