The Other Side

by Shayne

Part II: Storm Warning

1

"Hey Blondie, didja know it's your birthday?"

Iason looked up from his monitor to see Riki leaning against the doorway to his home office. He contemplated the question.

"Is it Selinar already?"

"Yep. I always remember 'cause I'm the same day as you, two months before." The mongrel sauntered into the room and threw himself down in the chair opposite Iason's. "Thirty-one. That's practically ancient. Before you know it you'll be needing eye implants and new joints."

Iason gave his Pet a dour look.

"Are you trying to be funny again, Riki? Because it so rarely works."

"And to think I was prepared to be kind and considerate to you today, what with your approaching senility and all." Riki's expression became that of a martyr contemplating his own righteousness. "In honor of this celebration of decrepitude, I even took the liberty of procuring a small token of my esteem with which to present you."

His expression blank, Iason studied his smirking Pet.

"Once more, if you please, Riki. And in a language we both understand."

Riki bounced from his seat and came over to lean against the desk.

"I got you something. Sheesh. I told Tir improving my vocabulary was a waste of time."

"I don't think he intended for you to butcher perfectly innocent words, Pet," Iason replied, laughter threading his voice.

"Hmph. See if I'm ever nice to you again."

Iason rose and came around the desk to tug the pouting mongrel into his arms.

"I'm sorry to be such an ingrate, love. But you must admit you have a rather odd way of offering good wishes."

Riki buried his face in Iason's shoulder, muffling his laughter.

"I can't resist. You're an easy mark, Blondie."

"And you're incorrigible."

Tilting Riki's chin, he leaned down to brush a kiss over his mongrel's lips. Riki pulled him even closer, those clever brown fingers pushing into blonde hair, the tip of his tongue teasing Iason's.

As always, desire became an insistent pulse in his blood, making him dizzy with need. Pulling back, he looked down at Riki.

His pet's mouth was bruised from his kisses, the midnight eyes dilated and dazed. A low moan escaped the mongrel as Iason dragged him down to the richly carpeted floor, strong hands ripping at the cloth that hid Riki's golden skin from his eyes.

Riki was jerking just as determinedly at Iason's clothes, swearing when a fastening proved particularly stubborn. Finally Iason pulled away long enough to shed his skin-suit, and then his Pet's hands were tugging him back down to lie against the beautiful man he loved.

Riki spread his legs, wrapping them around Iason's lean hips, and their cocks rubbed urgently together.

"Gods, but that's good, Iason," Riki groaned into his mouth.

"Mm. I think I can do better, though," he breathed against Riki's ear, following the words with a light nip on his mongrel's neck.

Riki shivered and grabbed one of his hands, guiding it down to the puckered entrance just behind his Pet's sac. Iason drew in a sharp breath as his fingers slid into Riki, eased by the slickness already there. Riki had prepared himself, then come here to deliberately seduce Iason.

It was too much for the Blondie. The thought that Riki wanted him that much shut down the last of his coherent mind. He lined his cock-head up with Riki's hole and slid slowly inward.

The tight ring of muscle parted for him, grasping greedily at every inch he pushed inside. He lay over his mongrel, panting, feeling Riki's inner passage grip his cock with small contractions.

Riki's hands clamped down on his shoulders as the other man's head went back, his neck arching. Iason leaned down to kiss the smooth-skinned throat.

"You are so perfect, Riki. So perfect."

Eyes like deep, sunless pools opened, staring up into his. Iason often wondered why their society considered blonde hair and blue eyes to be the pinnacle of evolution when someone like Riki existed. Couldn't they see? Didn't they know?

"Right back atcha, Blondie," said his mongrel, and Iason joined their hands together, thrusting deep.

It was fast, furious and surpassing ecstasy.

Iason heard Riki shout his name as if from a great distance; heard his own voice repeating his lover's name over and over as the wave took him beyond thought or reality.

---

"Do you remember the day we first met?" Iason asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

Riki took distinct pride in that fact. The last half hour had been one of the best of his life. He was glad Iason seemed to feel the same way.

"I'm not likely to forget," he replied, his own voice rusty.

"I told you something: that I wasn't so desperate I had to put my hands on a mongrel. That was it, wasn't it?"

A laugh chuffed from Riki's chest.

"Uh, yeah. I believe that's what came out of your mouth. As I recall, I was hearing, 'Take your clothes off right now, 'cause I want to fuck you so bad I'm dying'."

"You weren't far wrong," his Blondie replied, amusement in evidence. "I mocked you with your body... and all I wanted to do was touch it. I'd never seen anyone like you before."

"Well that goes for me too, Iason. How often do you think a gutter mongrel gets a chance to get up close and personal with a Tanagura Blondie, huh?"

His Blondie took him by surprise, pushing him onto his back and looming over him.

"Did you feel privileged?" Iason asked in that husky, just-been-fucked voice.

"No," Riki said softly, reaching up to push a strand of platinum hair back into place. "I was scared to death, if you want to know the truth."

Iason dipped his brow to rest against Riki's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel you had no other choice than to do that. I was too fascinated to say no when you told me to follow you."

"Oh, Iason." Riki sighed. "I was just being proud and stupid as usual. If you hadn't happened to me that afternoon, someone else would've some other time. I was a time-bomb walking around, looking for a place to detonate.

I was just so angry. All the time. I don't even know why anymore."

Iason relaxed, the long, strong body smooth against his own.

"It's been bothering me for a long time, now."

Riki propped himself up on an elbow as Iason sat up.

"You're kidding."

"No. Riki... I don't just want your cooperation." The blonde head bowed. "I need you to want this."

He couldn't have asked for a better opening.

"In that case, I'd better give you your present."

Iason looked startled.

"You mean that," he gestured to the strewn clothing, "wasn't it?" The Blondie's mouth softened. "You didn't have to buy me anything, Riki."

"No, I didn't. But I wanted to. Happy Birthday, Iason."

Grabbing for his discarded jeans, Riki retrieved the box within and handed it to his Blondie.

---

Iason took the jeweler's box Riki held out to him. He was more than a little curious to see what his Pet considered an appropriate natal day gift.

His fingers found the hidden depression, pushed. And he stared down at the box's contents in numbed shock.

If Iason Mink lived for a thousand years, he would never forget the horror that had gripped him at Dana Bahn on seeing Riki's pet ring... without Riki attached. It had been his own fault, Riki's castration. He'd never even thought of what might happen.

The ring had been a symbol of his possession, nothing more, and he'd never considered that another person, sufficiently motivated, might see it as a threat.

He'd awakened in the hospital, Riki the only thought in his head, unable to do anything until he'd stood by the regrowth-chamber and seen with his own eyes that his Pet lived. Looking down at the still-healing mongrel, he'd been sick with relief that Riki's testicles had regenerated along with everything else. The thought of putting a pet ring back around them had made him physically ill.

Reaching out, he touched the silvery circle lying on a bed of black velvet. Thin, beautifully made, it was inscribed with unidentifiable symbols. He wanted to weep, knowing what it must have cost Riki emotionally and mentally to get this.

He looked up at his Pet, eyes wet at the corners.

"Why?" he asked, trying desperately to keep his voice under control.

"I've thought about it a lot, and I figured out how you must have felt, seeing the damn thing and knowing how it was removed." Riki took a deep breath. "That you didn't put a new one on me... Guy must've scared the hell out of you."

"He did," Iason said, his voice rough with unreleased tears. "It was completely irresponsible of me to leave you with no recourse. I'll never do that to you again, Riki."

Riki reached forward and lifted the ring from its soft bed. Late afternoon light glinted off the shimmery surface.

"Katze had a friend make this for me." A slight smile tilted the mongrel's lips. "You shoulda seen the look on that man's face when I told him what I wanted."

Black eyes fixed themselves on Iason's, mesmerizing the Blondie with their intensity.

"I want you to put this on me, Iason. It means that I trust you enough to let you. It means I want your mark on me. It—," Riki's voice caught and Iason held his breath, waiting.

"It means I love you," his mongrel said, eyes fierce.

Iason couldn't get enough air. It backed up in his throat along with tears and the overwhelming emotions pouring through him. He put a shaking hand out to Riki and the mongrel moved suddenly, throwing himself against Iason and wrapping strong arms around the Blondie's waist.

"Riki. You don't have to do this. You're all I want and if you want me, I'm beyond happy. You don't have to prove it to me."

Riki shook his head, his face pressed tight against Iason's throat.

"I know that. But I want this, Iason. It makes everything feel... permanent. And real—like it's not going away again."

This time it felt like his heart truly had stopped. Iason realized that he was crying for the first time in his life. He could feel the wet on his cheeks.

Riki reached for his left hand and something cool slid onto his middle finger. He raised his arm, holding his fingers up to the light. A band of the same silver metal as the pet ring fit perfectly against his skin. There were etchings here too, and he brought his hand closer to examine them.

"I and R," Riki said in a low voice. "I didn't want it to be just a ring and controller, although they are fully functional. At least I know how to take this one off."

"Good," Iason said promptly. "You should probably give me the code too. Just—just in case..."

"Now don't start freaking out on me, Blondie. I don't think there are that many whackos out there with a yen for black mongrels."

"I certainly hope not," Iason said with a small laugh. "But, Riki... there are a great many whackos, as you so colorfully put it, who would love to remove me from my place as head of the Syndicate. They would not hesitate to use you against me. My... attachment to you is well-known."

"Hmm. Attached how?"

A wet tongue lapped at one of his nipples and long fingers teased his balls. Iason shuddered, becoming immediately, painfully erect.

"Riki!"

"Yes, O great master?"

"This is not—ah!—a laughing matter, Pet. Oh gods. Do that again."

Obediently, Riki nipped at the place Iason's neck joined his shoulder. The nerve-wracking sensation went straight to his cock and he groaned, threading his fingers through Riki's hair. The mongrel lifted his head and grinned at Iason, then shoved until the Blondie was flat on his back.

Iason watched in strained anticipation as Riki slicked his fingers with lube—then spread it carefully over every inch of Iason's erection. By the time Riki was done torturing him, he was shaking. Straddling the Blondie's hips, Riki held Iason's cock upright and sank down on it.

His mongrel extended a hand to him and Iason saw the glint there.

"Put it on me, Blondie," Riki purred and Iason could do nothing but obey.

It wasn't easy, since Riki fully erect was nearly as large as a Blondie, but eventually the thin ring slid into place, molding carefully to the root of his mongrel's sex. The device tightened automatically, contouring itself to fit the man who wore it.

Riki gasped, the flush of extreme arousal spreading over his face and throat. He began to move, rising and falling on Iason's cock, taking the Blondie with him into madness.

Sweat-misted golden skin gleamed, sleek muscles flexed smoothly and silver glistened seductively around perfectly shaped testicles. Iason had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Then Riki's eyes opened and looked into his.

The expression on his mongrel's face—love and need and fiery possessiveness—tore him wide open and he came, helpless with the agonizing pleasure of his orgasm. A cry was ripped from Riki's throat, the wet heat of his climax spreading between them, then he dropped forward onto Iason's chest.

Staring up at the ceiling, Iason stroked damp hair away from Riki's face and held him close.

"I love you. So much. You mean more to me than anything or anyone else in existence."

Pushing himself up, Riki propped his arms against Iason's chest and looked down into his lover's face. A satisfied smile stretched the mobile mouth.

"So nice of you to say it while I'm awake, Blondie," he drawled, then laughed when a slight flush darkened Iason's high cheekbones.

Sitting the rest of the way up, he stretched with feline enjoyment and agilely rose to his feet. He stood over Iason, feet planted on either side of the Blondie's hips and grinned at him.

"Not bad for an old guy, Iason. Thirty-one must not be so rough, after all."

"I'll show you rough, mongrel," Iason growled and toppled Riki back down to the floor with one swift movement.

They wrestled playfully, more for the sake of touching each other than anything else, and Iason thought, listening to Riki's carefree laughter ringing through the condo, that his Pet was right: thirty-one was a damned good age to be.

2

"You are only as good as your reflexes."

Guy stood in the center of the dojo, his stance relaxed but solid, his hands easily gripping the now-familiar hilt of his katana.

"A trained warrior of any discipline will tell you this."

He could hear Raoul's voice, sense the tapping of bare feet as the other man circled the room. The hum of his sword's energy vibrated up through his palms and the faint scent of ozone drifted past his nostrils.

"In prolonged skirmish, fear, muscle fatigue and pain will become your constant companions. If your body is not conditioned to respond automatically and without hesitation, it will fail you. And you will die."

Guy could tell by the Blondie's breathing and a subtle shift in the air that Raoul had come to a stand-still directly in front of him.

"Such conditioning is usually achieved over period of one to two years of intensive training. You, however, do not have the luxury of time."

Behind the skin-tight material that covered them, Guy's eyes blinked, trying to see, even though his mind registered the futility of the action.

"The fight you are headed for is a thousand times worse than clean battle. You will be on display to the rabble of Ceres, Midas and Tanagura, alike. They will fervidly cheer every slash, every maiming, every kill. Your fellow gladiators will play to that, hoping to gain enough of a following to attract the attention of a patron and perhaps earn a pardon."

Raoul's voice was growing distant and Guy heard the slide of the Blondie's blade leaving its sheath; felt the force-field around it activate.

"Your life up to this point has made you an expert at quick and dirty. You have the will and ability to fight for survival. Now you must add something to that: ruthlessness. You cannot afford to wait for them to come to you. In melee the only advantage you have is the offensive."

The change in air currents around him was the only warning he had. His blade swung up just in time to meet Raoul's, the whine of energy met and repelled filling his ears. Raoul attacked, driving him back... then breaking off, the flurry of blows halting abruptly.

Guy panted, holding himself at the ready, straining his senses for some clue as to where the next strike would come from.

"The Arena is the ultimate example of kill-or-be-killed. To live, you must make yourself a killer. Then do it without thought or question."

Raoul's voice came from everywhere and nowhere, shaking his sense of balance, and Guy closed his mind to his surroundings, concentrating on motion rather than sound. When he felt movement to his right, he spun, striking out with determined slashes.

The Blondie's blade clashed with his, forced his sword down. Guy shifted his grip slightly, breaking the engagement and attacking from above. They pushed each other mercilessly, sparks flying and swords screaming with the power of desperation-driven blows.

Feinting in a move Raoul had taught him, Guy dodged the other man's attack and brought his blade down hard near the Blondie's hilt, feeling the severe vibrations affect Raoul's grip. He pushed in close, tangling their swords together, jerking Raoul's ankle with his foot.

They crashed to the ground, and he pinned the Blondie with an arm against his throat, flinging their combined blades away. They deactivated automatically on impact and he ripped the clinging cloth from his eyes, staring at Raoul in grim triumph.

"Look down," Raoul grated, his voice harsh against Guy's punishing grip.

Guy kept his eyes on the Blondie's face.

"I'm not that stupid," he gasped, chest heaving with exertion, then felt the prick of Raoul's short blade against his sternum.

"No, just careless."

Raoul flung him off in one smooth movement, rolling swiftly to hold him in place; that damned steel barely caressing his exposed throat.

"You have talent, Guy, but until you learn to subdue your emotions, they will control your actions. The man who fights with a clear head will always prevail against one who gives his anger free rein."

He could feel that anger coalescing, expanding to fill every part of his body, its incandescent force focusing exclusively on the man who lay over him; the Elite who taunted and goaded and pushed until his soul and body were bloody and raw... the Blondie who fascinated and attracted him against his will.

He moved suddenly, seizing Raoul's wrist and using his legs to throw the man over his head in an old street-fighting move. The long-knife dug a furrow in his throat, but he was too furious to care.

Snarling, he leapt for Raoul, slamming the Elite into the dojo's floor.

---

Raoul had been expecting this for some time. Since that first day in the dojo, nearly six weeks ago, Guy had trained ceaselessly. He followed Raoul's orders without question, working himself to exhaustion and progressing at a frightening rate. Raoul just wished he had more time to shape the mongrel's abilities.

Within a year, Guy would be swordsman for any sensei to take pride in. The man's natural skill and instincts, combined with extreme flexibility and superb physical condition, had brought him farther in a month and a half than most students of the Way managed in two years.

Raoul was cautiously pleased.

But the mongrel's lack of defiance concerned him somewhat. From things both Iason and Riki had said, Raoul gathered that Guy's temper was uncertain at best and likely to explode at the slightest provocation. With that in mind, he'd done his damnedest to prod it to life, goading Guy with both words and fighting techniques designed to leave the mongrel on his ass and smarting. None of it had worked.

It was part of Raoul's method as a teacher to push the limits, physical and mental, of his students. Both they and he needed to know just how far they were willing to go and what their breaking point was. He had to admit that Guy's boundaries aroused his curiosity. He'd never been this close to a mongrel before, let alone lived and trained with one. It was proving... fascinating.

Too fascinating.

Raoul went limp under the man above him, allowing Guy to bear him to the ground. He waited, looking into the furious face so close to his, watching to see what Guy would do. As it happened, it was the last thing Raoul would have expected.

Guy's mouth flattened and he made a growling sound deep in his throat. Then he bent down and covered Raoul's lips with his own.

---

It wasn't that he had no idea what was happening. He'd kept enough pets and been to enough shows, both private and Salon sponsored, to have seen two humans of every sex-pairing kiss in a hundred different ways. Never had he experienced a desire to try it himself.

That inhibition vanished the moment Guy's mouth touched his.

The mongrel's lips were soft and full against his and they moved, stroking his mouth, finding the best fit. Wet heat brushed against Raoul's lower lip: Guy's tongue. His mouth opened slightly in surprise which only grew as the man on top of him sent that extremely agile tongue flicking along Raoul's.

A sharp flare of arousal went straight to his groin and he barely suppressed the low moan building in the back of his throat. Then Guy slid his hands into Raoul's long, golden hair, tilting his head up so their mouths melded completely and the Blondie's thoughts vanished into the ether.

His hands clenched on the silk of Guy's gi, pulling the mongrel closer, and he rolled so that Guy was beneath him. Guy gasped as the movement aligned their erections, his hips pushing up towards Raoul's.

They rocked together, bodies trying feverishly to get closer, hands roaming restlessly over much-desired flesh. Greedy fingers pulled at slippery ties until both their tunics were open and skin touched skin.

Their mouths were locked together, unwilling to separate even to breathe, until Raoul lifted his head to look down at the man beneath him.

Dilated grey eyes, dark with lust, met his. One hand sliding between them, Guy pushed their loose trousers farther down and wrapped warm, hilt-calloused fingers around both their cocks. He stroked them together and the friction threatened to blow Raoul's skull wide open.

His orgasm built with inexorable force as Guy reached up to pull him back down for another kiss.

"Raoul."

His name sounded so soft, so seductive, spoken against his mouth in Guy's low, sex-drenched voice and he felt it all through his body. Arching against the mongrel, he came and heard Guy's wordless cry blend with his own shout as the other man climaxed with him.

They collapsed in a heap, limbs tangled together.

What have I done?

Raoul lay over Guy and waited for the guilt to hit. It didn't. He didn't regret what they'd done at all. He just had to make sure it never happened again.

---

Guy stared blearily at Raoul, dazed with the intensity of his orgasm and surprised that the other man had the energy to sit up. All his anger was gone, banished by furious sex and the lassitude that followed. He hadn't come so hard since his early teens.

Beside him, the Blondie rose to his feet and stood there, looking down at Guy.

"Put your blade up and go clean yourself. We are through for the day."

Blinking, Guy tried to reconcile the impassive man above him with the fiery lover of a few minutes ago. He pushed himself up, his body still shaky from the battle and its aftermath.

"Raoul?"

Retrieving his blade from where it had fallen, the Blondie sheathed it and slid it onto one of the sword racks before turning to look at Guy.

"We will be leaving town for a few days, tomorrow. It is too long since I've visited my Master's dojo in Berangora and there's an advanced sai class this Eighth-day that I wish you to attend. I will expect you to conduct yourself in a manner honorable to my name and befitting your position as my student."

No hint of heat lingered in the turquoise eyes and Guy realized that Raoul intended to go on as if they'd never touched or kissed... or anything at all. The Blondie said nothing else, just walked sedately from the room without a backward glance.

Automatically, Guy wiped his katana down and sheathed it, his movements easy with practice. He placed the blade on the rack then sat down, his back to the wall.

Raoul was right. Why should a ten minute grope on the floor change anything? Guy was bound to the Arena, thanks to Iason Mink and his own stupidity, and he would never have met the other Blondie if he hadn't been. He hated that thought. Hated himself more for wanting something he shouldn't.

He craved Raoul's approval, waiting like some well-trained pet for the cool nod that signaled Guy had performed correctly. Letting his head fall forward, he rested his brow on bent knees.

Was this how Riki had felt, he wondered? Caught between loyalty to a place and people he no longer felt any connection to and his fascination for a tall, blonde god who found worth in a mongrel when no one else did?

For the first time in his life, Guy felt his existence had a purpose. He loved the powerful strike of blade against blade. In the dojo, the world narrowed to a place where only he, his katana and his opponent existed. It was a clean, fearless plane that carried no taint of his earlier life and, if for nothing else, he would always be grateful to Raoul for giving him that.

So he'd do as his Sensei had silently asked. He would leave today's incident on the wood floor and tomorrow it would be gone, the dojo cleansed through meditation and combat. Things would go on as they had before. Kind of.

Raoul had said they were going to Berangora, one of Tanagura's satellite cities. To see Raoul's Master? Well, the Blondie had to have learned from someone.

Moving like a man twice his age, Guy rose to his feet and limped from the room. Raoul was a demon with a katana, striking with lightening-fast, smooth precision and taking you down when you least expected it. He was truly curious to see the man who'd made his Sensei into a mobile weapon.

3

"Captain Vere."

Brigadier-General Marston rose to his feet at Mattias' entrance, surprising him. Brigadier-Generals didn't defer to anyone. Stopping just before the desk, he stood at attention, staring straight ahead.

"You wanted me, Sir?"

"At ease, Vere. You're not here officially. Yet."

Matt dropped into parade rest, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Sir?"

Sharp green eyes surrounded by laugh-lines examined him from a weathered countenance.

"It's said you're a fair man, Captain. And one who gets things done. Your team has the highest success rate of any in the history of the 5th and your men follow you without question."

"Sir."

Matt kept his voice noncommittal. Unexpected praise always made his bull-shit detector ping like crazy.

The Brigadier's mouth quirked.

"Once a Blondie, always a Blondie." The aged commander of the League's forces paced to the room's enormous window and stood with his back to Mattias.

"This little... mistake we've been paying for has cost us many of our ranking men, Vere. It's going to take more than just a few promotions to get us back where we need to be. We are floundering at a time we cannot afford to."

"Yes, Sir. I agree completely."

The Brigadier turned and emerald eyes skewered him where he stood. It was suddenly obvious how this man had risen from Sergeant to his present rank. Sheer intimidation.

Matt, however, was used to Jupiter. He met the man's stare impassively. The Brigadier's basilisk glare eased.

"It's good you concur, Captain, since I'm removing you from your normal duties and appointing you as head of the newest inspection committee."

Matt controlled the involuntary jerk of his chin, but not quickly enough.

"So you are human. I've wondered about you Tower-breeds."

"Sir, is this necessary? My Team is not going to take inactivity well."

"Who does?" The other man came to stand in front of Matt. "I need someone who will look over the possibilities for advancement and give impartial reports. It's hard to find anyone more impartial than a Blondie."

"But I'm not." Mattias met the Brigadier's stern gaze. "Sir, you have to know that I can't do this. Not at the expense of my men."

Leaning back against his desk, the Brigadier studied Mattias with a calculating look.

"We can make him official, you know."

"Sir?"

"Your boy. Do this and he will have a lieutenant's rank and the privileges that come with it. That means open access to League data and equipment."

Matt froze. It was everything that Tir could possibly want, along with what Matt wanted for him: respect and safety. Once within the ranks of the League, no one would dare harm him again.

For Matt, there was no question of his answer.

"When and how? Sir."

The Brigadier chuckled at the deliberately insulting tone.

"Report to Intelligence at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow. They'll have the data and your new team ready for you."

"Yes Sir."

"Dismissed."

He'd almost reached the port when the Brigadier spoke.

"I assume your XO is good enough to take over, Vere? If not, I can assign someone to replace him, temporarily."

Matt turned a mocking smile on the Brigadier.

"She's up for anything you can throw at her, Sir," he said calmly, and left the room.

---

"The sun feels good. Katze's had me cooped up in the office for the last week, trying to sort out his screwed-up invoices. Man, you'd never know he was such a disorganized fuck. I mean, the Market runs like a fine-tuned bike."

Riki stretched against the hard ground and prickly grass beneath him. It was a rare treat to be out-of-doors and he was enjoying himself to the hilt. Next to him, Tir picked a seeder-puff and blew its milky down away with one quick breath.

"They always sound so interesting."

The other mongrel's voice seemed almost wistful and Riki propped himself up on his elbows to look at his friend.

"Who?"

"Mr. Mink and your boss. You're so good at descriptions I can see them in my head. I'd like to be able to meet them sometime. They'd make good characters."

Riki smirked at him knowingly.

"For that book you're working on, yeah? You'd have to be careful about writing either of them in. They've both got short fuses, for all they like to pretend they're lily white."

A blush edged Tir's high cheekbones and the boy smiled a little, lowering his face to his bent knee.

"Silly. I wouldn't make it obvious."

Riki cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Iason? Not obvious? Not possible."

"Hey, Ming! Grabbing a guy's dick's definite grounds for a penalty!"

"Blow it out your ass, Meyer! You haven't gotten any in so long, you don't even remember where the damn thing's located!"

Both mongrels turned their attention to the wide expanse of field below their raised hillock. Team 15 was spread over it in the middle of a football game. Smack dab in the center a towering, muscled heathen faced off with a petite, black-haired... female?

"She's... a she!" Riki squeaked.

Tir grinned at him.

"That's Lt. Ming."

"That guy's gonna squash her!"

"Uh-uh," Tir shook his head. "Just watch."

The delicate woman crossed her arms and tilted her head to one side.

"C'mon, Meyer. You want a piece of me? You've been dyin' to take me on since you came in, so let's go."

"He's a lieutenant, junior grade. Transferred in from another Team four months ago." Tir whispered in Riki's ear. "He hates being subordinate to a woman, but Lt. Ming's a senior and she's been Matt's SIC for the last two years."

Riki's jaw dropped.

"A woman?"

"A mongrel, too," Tir said, satisfaction in his impish smile.

Riki turned his fascinated gaze back towards the field. This he had to see.

In the end, it happened so fast he was never quite sure how it went down. All he knew was, Meyer took a step towards the petite lieutenant, there was a blur of movement, and the bulky Centurion hit the ground with a resounding crash.

Ming sauntered up to the quietly moaning man and planted one dainty steel-toed boot on his cheek.

"You gonna fuck with me again, Meyer?"

There was a mumble that Riki didn't catch. Obviously, Ming didn't either because she jammed said boot into Meyer's diaphragm and growled,

"What was that, Meyer? I don't think I got it."

"Yes SIR, Lt. Ming!"

"Better. Not perfect, but we can't have everything, now can we?" The boot dug deeper into Meyer's gut and the man whimpered as soundlessly as he could.

Ming straightened abruptly and looked around at the men watching.

"Alright, ladies, show's over. Get your asses back in position or you're gonna be doin' laps until eighteen-hundred."

There was a resounding chorus of 'yes Sir's.

"And someone get that debris off the field. Gonna make it impossible to play."

Two of the men hauled Meyer off by the arms, and down below the game resumed.

"Teeeennnn hut!"

Riki shook his head a couple of times to clear his muddled brain.

"I saw it... but I don't believe it."

"You should have been here two years ago when she joined the Team. After a week there were so many broken bones, Matt had to post us on sick leave indefinitely."

Riki cracked up.

"Sh-she's an army all by herself, T-Tir. J-just send her out alone and she'd be Boss of Midas by twenty-one-hundred."

"Or less," Tir dead-panned, then went off in a fit of giggles.

They lay there watching the game lazily, listening to the distant drone of fire practice from the las-gun range. Riki pulled a long blade of grass and chewed on the end, thinking of everything and nothing, feeling content to be alive on a sunny day.

"Riki?"

"Hmmn?"

"How do you... get Iason Mink to make love to you?"

He choked on the grass in his mouth. Spitting it out, he sat up and gawked at Tir, who was watching him from eyes even more enormous than usual.

"Say again?"

The blush on the kid's face looked like it was taking up permanent residence, but the expression in his eyes was determined.

"I mean—how do you get his attention? To let him know when you want to, you know, do it?"

Somewhere in Riki's mind the flame of enlightenment ignited. He leaned forward so that his nose was only a few inches away from Tir's.

"You looking to seduce Vere?"

The perfectly shaped mouth firmed.

"Yes. Are you shocked?"

"Nope. Just surprised it's taken you this long to do it."

Sighing, Tir flipped over onto his back and stared up at the sky.

"Before what happened, I wouldn't have dared. He's always treated me like a kid brother he had to raise himself. And I was happy to have that much." Tilting his head to the side, he looked up at Riki. "Then they took something from me that I can't get back. Something I hadn't realized I wanted to give him. I won't ever be clean again and I know I'm not good enough for Matt, but I don't have anything to lose. Not even my pride, since mongrels don't have any."

Riki's brows veed, a black scowl forming on his face. Leaning over the younger man, he put his hands on either side of Tir's head and glared at his friend.

"Now that's just bullshit, and you know it. You want to sit around and feel sorry for yourself, go right ahead. No one's stopping you.

But don't ever think that something you had no control over could make you dirty or inferior. It doesn't do me any good to tell you if you don't believe it, but I'll say it anyway."

He gripped Tir's shoulders and shook the kid a little with each word.

"It—was—not—your—fault. I know you already told Vere that, so now I'm telling you. They raped you Tir. You didn't make them do it." The thin body flinched and tears sprang up in violet eyes.

"Yeah, it hurts, I know. I know 'cause I've been there." He laughed without humor at Tir's startled look. "What do you think happens to a pretty kid in Ceres when he gets caught by a bunch of stout-soaked fuckos with nothing else to do?"

"S-sorry. I didn't-,"

"No reason for you to." Riki wiped the tears away from Tir's cheeks with his palms. "I just wanted you to know that you're not the only one... and it will get better. Someday, it'll be like an almost invisible scar you got when you were a kid.

And don't ever let me catch you saying mongrels got no pride. I've got enough for a hundred of 'em."

Tir gave a watery laugh.

"I know. I like it. I wish I could be more like you, Riki."

Riki laughed again, this time with real amusement.

"What for? You've got more brains than I ever will and you know when to shut-up." He gazed mournfully at the other mongrel. "I'm always saying something stupid in front of those Elites Iason associates with."

Tir snorted.

"You do it on purpose. Don't tell me you don't, Riki. I've watched you pull your 'idiot mongrel' act."

They grinned at each other and Riki flopped back down on the ground next to Tir.

"So, what you need is a plan."

"Huh?"

"Hel-lo? You want me to help you get Vere's attention, right?"

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that."

Riki looked Tir over dispassionately. The kid was gorgeous, but he did nothing with it. The thick black hair was always pulled severely back in a tail and Tir's normal attire consisted of white Tee and baggy fatigues. Give him a pair of glasses and he'd look exactly like what he was: a Spacer.

"Well first of all, you need some jeans. Black preferably and tight enough to show off your ass. And you gotta get some new shirts. You requisition those at the C-Store or something? One size fits all, even skinny mongrels?"

Tir's cheeks were flaming.

"I—I just get what's comfortable and inexpensive. I don't like to run Matt's bills up."

Riki regarded Tir with pity in his expressive eyes.

"You poor, poor innocent. I'm sure he's got his Blondie investments, same as the rest of 'em. He may not live in Eos, but some conditioning sticks. Trust me, he can afford a few pairs of pants and a couple shirts. From what I hear, you more than earn your keep."

"Yo, Tir!"

They both jumped, startled by the shout. Down on the field, Jaz was waving them in. The rest of the Team, except for Lt. Ming, had started laps. The lieutenant stood next to Jaz, arms crossed.

Rising from the grass, they started down the hill towards the waiting Centurions. Strolling along beside Tir, Riki studied Ming covertly. The closer they got, the smaller she seemed.

They stopped in front of Ming and Jaz and the pretty lieutenant gazed up at Riki with impassive black eyes that matched his own almost exactly.

"You need to get back to quarters, Tir," she said without looking away from Riki. "Cap's gonna be in soon and we gotta put to for evening maneuvers."

"That's fine, Lt. Ming. This is Riki."

She finished her cool inspection before speaking.

"A little old for a pet, aren't you?"

"And you're a little short for a Centurion. That didn't make much difference earlier," he shot back.

The bow-like mouth kicked up on one side.

"Cap told me you were a smart-ass. Keep the kid out of trouble and you're okay by me."

Giving Tir a warm smile, she turned on her heel and jogged after the rest of the Team.

"Come on, you lazy sons of bitches! We've got less than ten to get back to headquarters and form up! Double-time it or I'm gonna kick all your asses there myself!"

Riki stared after her, amazed that such a powerful voice could come from such a tiny frame. Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned just in time to catch the goofy look on Jaz's face as the man watched Ming running easily with Team 15.

Well, shit. It would take a man with balls of steel to go after a woman like Ming, but Riki figured the Sergeant was up to the task. Throwing an arm around Tir's shoulders, he pulled the slighter man with him towards the barracks, Jaz trailing behind.

"C'mon, Tir. I don't know if she meant us or not, but I sure don't want to be in her line of fire when she figures out we didn't make the ten minute deadline. Besides, it's probably about time I headed out. My Blondie hates coming home to an empty condo."

"Alright."

Tir was really quiet on the walk back and he waited in silence while Riki got his jacket and pass.

"You gonna be okay?" Riki asked, not liking the weird look on the other mongrel's face.

"Yes, I—yes."

"'Kay. Talk to you tomorrow then."

He stepped towards the port and a strong, thin hand closed on his arm.

"Riki!"

Ah. The kid had decided to spit out whatever was bothering him.

"I don't—don't know how soon I can go shopping, so... could you look at my stuff and maybe tell me if I've got anything nice?"

Stripping the black leather jacket off his shoulders, Riki slung it back down on the couch and dragged Tir towards the bedrooms.

"Good idea. Let's see what we've got to work with."

4

Matt was already tugging at the high collar of his dress uniform as he stepped through the port to his rooms. Damn, he hated wearing the thing. One of the plusses of Team life was a lack of formal clothing. He'd despised the styles the Tower had demanded of him just as much. Sometimes being a Blondie sucked.

Shedding cloth as he went, he headed for his bedroom and the attached bath.

"Tir? You home?"

"I'm in the office."

Satisfied that everything was as it should be, he pulled his calf-length boots off and shoved his pants down, stepping into the bathroom as he did.

"Water temp 70."

He leaned back against the smooth shower wall and let the hot water sluice the day's frustrations down the drain. If it wasn't for the devil's deal the Brigadier had offered, he'd have told the man just where he could shove his 'official inquiry'.

But there was Tir, who deserved better than life had offered him so far. Matt had been blessed with all the genes and opportunities a person living on Amoi could possibly have. He could put up with a bunch of pompous idiots for a month or so for the sake of a boy who'd been given none of those advantages.

The pounding water had reduced the stress in his muscles and he cleaned himself quickly, shutting off the head with a command. Pushing the clear plas door open, he reached blindly along the wall for his towel and stepped out on the mat, stripping the wet from his skin with warm terry.

Finishing with his hair, he pulled the cloth away from his face and looked up to see where he'd thrown his robe this morning. The sight of the youth sitting on the sink's counter, a foot swinging carelessly, one hand gripping his missing robe, stopped him cold.

Tir straightened and slid to the floor and Matt noticed that the boy was dressed differently than normal. Blue jeans hugged slender hips and surprisingly long legs. A tight black Tee lovingly molded the taut muscle that moved fluidly beneath it. Tir had let his long hair hang loose and it fell in soft black waves nearly to his slender waist.

Stopping mere inches away from Matt, Tir looked up at him from huge, long-lashed eyes and held the robe out.

"You left it on the floor in your bedroom this morning. I thought you might want it."

He took it unthinkingly, unable to concentrate on anything but a Tir who'd suddenly transformed himself from companion and friend to sex object. It was a mistake.

As soon as he started to pull the blue silk over his shoulders, Tir closed the last few inches between them and laid both palms against his chest. Matt's world narrowed to softly parted lips and eyes like rich velvet.

One slender white hand slid up to cup his cheek and before he registered what he was doing, he'd bent down and touched his mouth to Tir's.

Tir made a soft noise in the back of his throat and his arms reached up to pull Matt closer. Matt obliged, tightening his hold on the boy until not a millimeter of space remained between them.

Beneath his own, Tir's lips were silky and full, slightly parted, and he traced their lines with his tongue. The boy's mouth opened more fully, Tir's tongue flicking shyly at his own in invitation.

It was a temptation he couldn't resist. He'd needed this for too long and Tir felt pliant and warm in his arms; the way they fit together so perfect. So he did as he wanted, joining their mouths fully.

---

Heat licked just below his skin, pooling with fiery insistence in his stomach. Tir knew he was going to die. He'd had that feeling before, but this was something else altogether. He rubbed restlessly against Matt, trying to ease the maddening sensation.

The Blondie's mouth moved slowly against his lips, tongue sliding sensually along his own and he felt himself get harder than he'd ever been. Even in Matt-induced wet-dreams.

One big, long-fingered hand slid over his ass and tugged so that his aching cock slid against Matt's through the barrier of his jeans and the Blondie's robe.

"Uhnn!"

Was that his voice making those whimpering sounds? It must be, since it sounded enough like him to be convincing.

Then Matt lifted him, carrying him through the rooms to the Blondie's bed and stretching out on the wide mattress beside him.

When Matt leaned over him... something changed. Images flashed behind his closed lids, and he opened them, hoping to drive the unwelcome visions away. But his stomach was churning, his arousal draining away like liquid through a crack.

"Tir." Matt had let go of him and was sitting up, looking down at him. "What the hell am I doing? What the hell were you doing? I—,"

Tir turned on his side away from the Blondie, tears of frustration and self-disgust in his eyes. Gods, was he never going to be able to control this? Riki had said that he would, that the unreasonable fear would fade, but he hated that it had to. He especially hated that they could stop him from doing the one thing he really wanted to.

Long fingers closed gently over his shoulder, but he wasn't in the mood for Matt's solicitude. Flipping over, he threw himself at the Blondie, fastening his mouth ferociously on Matt's.

He didn't realize he was sobbing without tears, his anger wrenching dry gasps from him, until Matt drew him close, pressing his head into the Blondie's shoulder. His hands gripped Matt's robe, ripping with futile strength at the silk.

"Why?"

The question wrenched itself from his soul, the sound of his voice raw in the still air of their apartment.

"For a hundred reasons and none at all, Tir," Matt said quietly. "But mostly because someone is very angry with me."

They sat like that for long minutes before Matt spoke again.

"I can set you free, you know. I'll get you a Midas condo and work you'll enjoy and you'll never have to worry about anything ever again. You'll be away from here and... everything that goes with it."

"You mean, you. I'll be away from you."

"Yes."

"Well, I don't want to be, Mattias Vere. I love you!"

The stunned look on the Blondie's face pissed Tir off.

"Didn't you know? You mean I haven't been obvious the way I throw myself at you, Matt? And tonight, when I really make the effort, I freeze up. Am I good at this or what?"

Tir shoved himself off the bed and began to pace the carpet in front of it.

"Look, I'll get out if you want me to. I know I'm a liability to you now. But I don't want your money. Riki'll help me find something."

"Riki."

Startled by the Blondie's harsh tone, Tir looked up.

"He put you up to this didn't he?"

Tir's eyes widened.

"NO! Not the way you think. I asked him how to get you to fuck me. That's it!"

The Blondie was looking at him like he'd gone around the bend without hope for return. Well, maybe he had.

"I'm going. I think I've embarrassed us both more than enough."

He'd just reached the port when hands encircled his wrists, pressing them gently but inexorably against the door's unyielding surface. Matt's tall body was a warm weight against his back and smooth lips brushed his ear.

"You listen to me, brat, and make sure you've got your ears wide open." Wet flicked hotly at his neck and he stifled a moan. "You're mine. You have been since I first noticed you in the Space. I can wait however long it takes for you to get past all the crap that's happened to you. I will be on the other side when you get there. Got it?"

"Y-yes, Matt."

"Good. That's what I like to hear. Now come back to bed."

---

"Lights out."

The room dimmed immediately, the only illumination that of the twin moons shining palely through the window. Matt wanted Tir to feel comfortable undressing and he figured the dark would be best.

He waited impatiently and finally the blankets lifted, admitting Tir's slight form. The boy slid against him without hesitation and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Tir trusted him enough to allow this. Everything else would come on its own schedule. He stomped ruthlessly on his libido, which rudely demanded immediate satisfaction.

A slender arm crept tentatively over his waist, Tir's hand stroking along his spine.

"Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"You're, um, hard."

"Yes?"

"I am too."

His boy pressed closer and a long, slender cock rubbed against his own. Matt gritted his teeth, trying to shut out the excruciating pleasure of Tir's soft skin against his erection.

"Maybe we could... touch each other?"

Matt didn't answer because he couldn't speak. When Tir's long fingers wrapped around his full-to-bursting cock, a strangled noise was wrenched from his throat. The stroking fingers hesitated.

"I'm sorry. Did I—?"

"No!" He reached out to touch the moon-pale face. "No, it just—feels so good. Don't stop, Tir."

His little one made a happy noise and pressed closer, the slender hand pulling firmly at Matt's cock, Tir's thumb brushing the ridge of nerves beneath the crown. Matt's own hands were wandering everywhere; caressing milk-white skin, skimming lightly over tight male nipples, and finally sliding down to explore the outward thrust of Tir's erection.

The skin at the apex of the boy's thighs was smooth and perfect and Matt marveled at its softness.

"Mmn."

Tir bit his lip, the long, pale throat arching as Matt dipped his thumb into the weeping slit of the boy's cock. Tir's hips began to push aggressively against the friction of his hand and the slender fingers around his own erection tightened and moved faster.

"Matt... gonna-,"

"Come," he murmured into the young mongrel's mouth, and Tir did, pouring into his hand with a little cry.

Then his own climax took him, the long spasms lingering endlessly and leaving him weak and panting against Tir's relaxed form. Slender arms pulled him close and he wrapped himself around the boy who lay beside him.

"Love you, Matt."

He rested his cheek on night-black hair.

"I love you too, little one."

5

Kneeling behind Raoul, his eyes fixed on the ground, Guy waited for his Sensei to greet the Master of the dojo.

"Jervaux-san. It's been too long since I've crossed blades with you. Has Tanagura's business been so encompassing then, that you haven't come to see me in three years?"

Raoul bowed respectfully to the navy-haired man before him.

"My deepest apologies, Master Shinjo. The demands of Tanagura are pressing, but I should have made time. I have no excuse for my neglect."

The Master laughed; a free, joyful sound.

"Still the same Raoul, I see. And you have brought a student?"

"Yes."

Raoul stepped to the side and Guy rose and bowed even lower than his Sensei had. When he finally straightened, he found himself looking down into twinkling brown eyes and a lined but still somehow youthful face.

"Master Shinjo, this student of the Way is Guy," Raoul said formally. "He asks that you allow him entrance to your dojo that he might learn from those whose steps have carried them further along the path."

Bowing his head again, Guy waited, feeling the weight of those wise eyes on him.

"He has permission, of course. I would do no less for one of yours."

"I thank you for the honor you do me, Master."

"Come, Raoul, let's not be so formal. I wish to hear of the latest happenings in the City. Sit with an old friend and share a cup of tea."

Raoul inclined his head and they followed the short, wiry Master into a building that widened Guy's eyes with wonder.

It was constructed entirely of wood and tile, a marvel on a planet which possessed no forested areas. Long and low, with a sharply slanted roof, the feel of it echoed that of Raoul's own training room. Though it was now evening, the large main room gave the impression of daylight drenched walls and empty spaces waiting to be filled by the energy of sword-play.

A class was in session, the instructor giving direction on how to use the long staff called the bo.

The Master led them down a wide, well-lit hall with open doorways that led to other training rooms at various intervals. The sounds of engagement—the meeting of force-swords and the exertion of the men who wielded them—flooded Guy's senses, filling him with a kind of exhilaration. This felt... right.

He resisted looking into the rooms they passed, determined to behave correctly and bring no shame on Raoul here in his Master's house.

At the end of the hall, they passed through a doorway that led to another large room like the first. Two men occupied the floor of the training area, their katanas meeting in a blur of bright steel as they strove to defeat one another. The blades were naked, but not activated and the clean clash of metal rang through the room.

They were both Elite, one Silver, the other Blue.

"You remember Maruto-san, Raoul?" Master Shinjo inquired. "He was a few years behind you, but you've met on the boards before, I think."

"Yes."

Raoul's eyes were fixed on the man who wore his long silver hair braided back. Something in the Blondie's tone made Guy look sharply up at him. A flood of jealousy drenched the mongrel in sickening waves.

There was, or had been, something between Raoul and the other Elite at some point in time. He knew Raoul well enough by now to be familiar with his Sensei's expressions and this was almost like the one the Blondie wore when he spoke of Iason Mink.

On the floor of the dojo, the Silver Elite came up under the Blue's guard, disarming his opponent with one perfectly executed maneuver. The Blue flung his hands wide.

"I am vanquished, Kei. Put up!"

The Silver Elite laughed and the two men bowed to each other. Dipping his head to the Master, the Blue left the room.

"Master Shinjo! Did you see my use of the fourth movement?"

"Indeed, Maruto-san. You need to correct your right wrist. It's a little loose."

The beautiful Elite laughed again, striding over to make his obeisance to the Master. As he rose, his attention was drawn to Guy and Raoul. His gaze shot straight to the Blondie, expressive green eyes widening.

"Raoul! Good gods, how long has it been? Nine years, at least."

The Blondie's turquoise eyes remained impassive as he studied the other man.

"Since you decided to remain here in Berangora? Yes."

"Do you still hold that against me? You know Eos wasn't for me, Raoul."

"Perhaps."

"Do not sully my House with your disagreement, you troublesome Elites," the Master said in amusement. "Have you any objection to sparring Raoul's student, Kei?"

The Silver Elite's gaze swung to Guy and his eyes widened as he took in the mongrel's appearance. Forest colored eyes narrowed as Guy stared straight back without flinching.

"No, Master. I have none," he said coolly.

"Very well. Has the boy his own blade?" Shinjo asked Raoul.

"Yes, Master."

"Good. I'll have Taki fetch it."

When the Master left to summon his apprentice, Kei Maruto turned to Raoul.

"You've taken a mongrel for your pupil. How droll."

Raoul returned the other Elite's gaze, no expression on his face.

"What I do with my own time ceased to be your business a number of years ago, Kei."

The other man's entire body tensed, then, as Guy watched, the Elite deliberately relaxed his frame.

"Come, let's not quarrel. As the Master said, it fouls the dojo's atmosphere. I have no problem with joining your mongrel on the wood."

A faint smile touched Raoul's mouth.

"I wouldn't think so, Kei," he said. "After all, you've rarely lost to anyone... except me."

---

"Your boy is quite talented, Raoul. But then, you know that don't you?"

Raoul kept his gaze on the training floor. Guy's mahogany braid, as long as any Elite's, whipped out behind him as he dodged and thrust, meeting Kei strike for strike and giving as good as he got.

"I know it. And unlike any of us, for him that talent means life over death. He is for the Arena, Master."

"And you undertook his training, even knowing this?" The Master's voice held only mild curiosity. "What has so young a man done to warrant a death sentence?"

"He set the charges that killed Iason Mink two years ago."

"Ah."

Out on the boards, Kei attempted the same maneuver Guy had used to take Raoul down just a day ago.

It worked, but only for a moment. Guy let the katana be pulled from his hands, then a split second later his short blade was out. With one fluid motion, he used Kei's proximity to slide under his guard and press the razor-edged weapon to the Silver Elite's neck.

They remained frozen like that for an instant: the Elite's blade still raised to strike, the mongrel's short-sword snug against the long, white throat. Then Guy dug his blade a little deeper into Kei's skin and the katana dropped.

"Your little pet has a nasty bite, Raoul," the Elite said, somewhat out of breath. "You should train him to fight less like mongrel trash."

"I taught him that move myself," Raoul replied and watched with satisfaction as Kei glared at him and, bowing shortly to Shinjo, stalked from the room.

"As I said before, impressive. Dojo politesse will do him no good against gladiators."

Raoul turned to look at Shinjo.

"I feel so. Master, I wish him to join your sai class for the next few days. Would that be permissible?"

"I will be pleased to have him, Raoul," Shinjo said with a slight smile, watching as Guy carefully cleaned and sheathed his sword. "It's a great pity. I have an opening at the school right now and I was prepared to offer it to him."

Contrasting emotions pulled at Raoul. The pride he took in Guy's abilities and his hopes for the boy as a swordsman warred with the Arena's shadowy threat. It hadn't seemed real before now. He was suddenly faced with the fact that Guy would never have the future Raoul had unconsciously envisioned.

"I've put the two of you in the Forsythia Lodge. It has its own dojo attached."

Raoul inclined his head.

"Thank you for your kindness, Sensei."

"You've repaid me already just by being here. The school is not the same without your drive and fury."

Raoul laughed.

"A nice way of saying I was a protracted pain in the ass, Sensei."

The Master smiled.

"You were quite... challenging. And here comes your young man. Another challenge to train, I'd wager."

"Actually, I believe he is much less trouble than I was."

Guy reached them and stood silently, head bowed, his sword-strap slung over his shoulder.

"You are a pleasure to watch, young Guy. I will enjoy borrowing you from Jervaux-san for the next few days."

The mongrel's chin rose and he looked from Raoul to the Master in confusion.

"Sensei?"

"You wish to learn the sai?" Shinjo asked.

"Yes Master," Guy answered. "If Sensei wills it, I thank you for the opportunity."

"Prettily spoken. Your sensei has already requested it on your behalf. And now you gentlemen must excuse me. I have a class in half an hour and I've not started evening meditation yet."

Raoul and Guy bowed as the Master left the room. A young man of the middle class entered as the older man departed, and bowed slightly.

"Master Jervaux, I'm to take you to your quarters. If you will follow...?"

"Guy?"

Raoul looked over at the silent mongrel. Grey eyes met his, full of... an emotion Raoul couldn't place. It made him ache, though.

He turned back to the boy in front of him and gestured to the doorway.

"After you."

6

Guy circled his opponent, a young student near his own age who'd been lucky enough to get accepted by the Ito School. The kid was pretty good. Guy was better.

He attacked in sweeping arcs, disarming the other swordsman in three moves. The kid braced his hands on his knees, panting, taking a couple of seconds to get his breath back before rising. They bowed to each other and the other boy exited the floor.

Guy waited, blade at rest, while the sempai announced his win, then looked over at the man who waited for him. Master Shinjo wore the black of his rank, plain and unadorned. You'd never think so unassuming a man could bring an Elite to his knees, but Guy had seen it happen.

He'd also had the opportunity to spar Shinjo and it terrified him to know that there was still so much he would never learn. Time was running out for him, slipping through his fingers like water through a sieve.

"You fought well, young one. You need to tighten your stance when you deliver an over-hand strike, though. You make yourself vulnerable to a lower attack."

"Thank you for your correction, Master. I will put it into practice."

"I'm sure you will. Jervaux-san is competing in the masters' circle. Will you come?"

Any opportunity to watch the Blondie was not to be missed and Guy inclined his head to the older man. They strolled through the crowds of observers who surrounded each competition area, avoiding the silent judges watching from the sidelines.

The area near the enormous Masters' Floor was even more crowded, but the flocks of black and white gis parted easily for Shinjo, who walked through calmly, smiling benignly on the men who bowed as he passed.

And there was Raoul, standing in the center of the wide, wooden expanse, looking cool and calm in a black gi and bare feet. He and the Red Elite facing him exchanged bows, and the hum of activated force-swords filled the competition floor.

"Begin."

Master Shinjo's voice cracked out into the vibrating silence and without warning the Red Elite attacked. His katana swung through the empty space where Raoul had stood a moment before, and the Blondie completed his pivot, bringing his blade up to engage.

It was a true match between two masters of the Way who'd achieved equal ability. Guy watched, mouth slightly parted, enthralled.

He'd never had a chance to really watch the Blondie at sword-play; he was always on the receiving end of those powerful strikes, doing his best to deflect them. But oh... the sight of Raoul, his katana blurred by the force-field and the swiftness of his blows, that long braid curving with the fluid motion of his body, was something to behold.

The grace with which the Blondie moved through life guided his motions across the boards, but here it became that of a beautiful, deadly dance. Color flagged along high cheekbones and the turquoise eyes burned with fierce flames. To Guy, it seemed as though some ancient, war-like god inhabited the body of his Sensei, changing the calm, intelligent Elite he knew into something primal.

When the Red Elite finally made an error, it was so infinitesimal that had Guy not been watching closely, he'd have missed it. The man's hands shifted unintentionally on the sweat-slippery hilt and for one instant, his grip faltered.

Raoul, a past-master at exploiting his opponent's weaknesses (as Guy could attest to), pushed in, jamming the blades together and giving one brutal jerk. The Red's sword went flying, deactivating as it hit the floor, adding another gouge to the already scarred wood.

The Blondie and the Red faced each other, panting, and a grin slowly curved the Red's mouth.

"You've always been a sneaky son-of-a-bitch, Raoul," he said, and the Blondie grinned back at him.

They bowed to each other, officially ending the match, and the sparring boards were suddenly full of black gis, crowding around Raoul and his opponent. Raoul said something to the Red that made him laugh and clap the Blondie on the shoulder, then he moved off and another Elite took his place.

Guy was about to join his Sensei, when he got a good look at the man standing beside Raoul.

Loose, silvery hair caught the light and a bright smile focused directly on the Blondie, making an already beautiful face unbearably breath-taking. Pain spreading through him, Guy watched as Kei Maruto appropriated Raoul's attention, white fingers lying possessively against his Sensei's arm.

Hand gripping the leather sword strap across his shoulder, he turned away, letting the crowd swallow him up.

---

"Not now, Kei," Raoul said irritably, shaking the Silver Elite's hand off. He searched the sea of black and white, looking for that distinctive mahogany tail. Master Shinjo had said Guy was there for his match. So where had the annoying mongrel got to?

The shifting crowds gave Raoul a flashing glance of coffee-brown braid, but it vanished before he could call out. Staring at the place Guy had disappeared, Raoul settled back on his heels.

He was not going after the mongrel. Perhaps Guy had finally decided to seize one of the many opportunities Raoul had given him over the past week. Perhaps this would be the time he left and didn't return. Raoul had hoped for it daily, yet when he reached their rooms at night and Guy was waiting for him at the table, full of enthusiasm for the school, the Master and his sai classes, he felt relief and something he didn't quite believe was happiness.

Dangerous.

This feeling was dangerously wrong. And yet... the seductive warmth of it drew him closer to the flame in which Iason willingly immolated himself. With every guileless smile and each glance from misty eyes, Guy drew him deeper into the emotional trap he'd seen from the beginning.

He'd known it was there... what he didn't know was how he could have kept himself from tumbling into it.

7

"Okay, Tir, I think you ordered enough stuff for three life-times. Now can we please go eat? I'm about to fall over."

Riki wilted dramatically against the Midas clothing store's marble façade, looking as pathetic as he could manage. Not that it did him much good, since his friend's nose was glued to the window.

"Just one more. I really like that jacket. Don't you think it would look good on me?"

"That's what you said three stores ago! Tir, come on! I'm starving, here!"

The other mongrel sighed and turned his violet gaze on Riki.

"Oh, alright. It's just so long since I've been in the city. I didn't realize how much I missed it."

"Hey, if you like the shopping, you'll love the food. I-," he broke off as his com beeped. "Just a sec, I think that's Katze. Probably wants to know when I'm coming back to work."

He flipped it open, pressed a button.

"Yeah?"

"When are you coming back in? I've got three days worth of your work piling up and I don't have time to find someone else with the brains to do something about it!"

Riki held the device away from his ear, waiting for the rant to end.

"Riki, are you even listening to me?!"

"Not really. Jeez, boss, lighten up. I'll be back in tomorrow, I already told you that."

Katze growled wordlessly and Riki laughed.

"Katze, go smoke one of your expensive coffin-nails and take a chill-pill. Then come meet us for lunch. You can yell at me all you want to, as long as I've got something in my stomach."

There was a pause on the other end.

"Us?"

"That's right. You've never met Tir, have you? Well, now's the time. Get your ass over to Pretoria in five, 'kay? 'Kay," he answered himself, not waiting for Katze's response, and shut the hand unit with a decisive click.

"C'mon, let's move. No matter how fast I get somewhere, he's always there first, smoking a cig and smirking at me. Really annoying."

Tir gave Riki a side-long glance.

"You actually talk to him like that?"

"Of course. Tell you something, kid, the best thing you can do for yourself is decide how you want people to see you and then make it that way. I'm a smart-ass. Always have been, always will be. It's gotten me into a lot of trouble over the years, but mostly, it works.

Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think that's the way you want to go, but... go ahead and stand up for yourself. Can't hurt."

Tir was smiling at him, head tilted to one side.

"You know something, Riki? You're a really nice guy."

"Hey! Don't say that so loud! You wanna ruin my rep?"

Giggling, Tir nudged Riki with his shoulder. Riki shoved back.

"You want to get there fast, right?" Tir asked, grinning.

"Yeah?" Riki didn't trust that look.

"Well, let's go."

Eyes bright with mischief, Tir took off without warning and Riki was after him in a millisecond, following the trail of happy laughter.

---

Digging hungrily into the antipasto in front of him, Riki let the conversation going on over his head stay there, mentally rolling his eyes. Spacer geeks. Put two of them together and you'd be stationary for at least three hours.

It hadn't taken Tir and Katze long to realize they were kindred souls with circuit-boards for brains and now they were arguing animatedly, words like 'binary codes', 'C-chips' and 'firewalls' flying freely around the table. Riki resisted the urge to duck as Katze flung an arm out to make a point.

Secretly, he had to admit he was pleased to see two of his favorite people getting along so well. When he was younger, he'd have been embarrassed to count a couple of brainy hackers among his friends, but Katze and Tir were the best.

"So you're sure you'll be back in tomorrow?"

Uh-oh, count on Katze not to get distracted.

"Um—yeah. I think so, if Iason doesn't want to do anything. He's taking a few days off, so-,"

The red-head's eyes narrowed.

"You said tomorrow."

Riki sighed.

"And I meant it. I'll probably be in towards late afternoon, though, so don't look for me any earlier." He grinned suggestively. "When Iason's off call, I don't make it out of bed until thirteen-hundred."

Tir's cheeks went pink and Katze just looked plain disgusted. Score. Irritating his boss was second only to irritating a particularly snotty Elite. Especially the Silver ones. Hoo boy, were they thin-skinned.

"Iason needs to send you back to the Academy for retraining. You're barely civilized," Katze said in his 'I-am-so-much-better-than-all-you-lower-life-forms' voice.

His com buzzed quietly and he pulled it out.

"Katze, here. No. No, I told you, I want those in the South Side warehouses. I don't care if the northern ones are closer, just get it done the way I said!"

Snapping the hand unit closed, he tossed his napkin on the table and glowered at Riki.

"This is what happens when you take three days off. Don't do it again for a while. I'm sick of talking to the morons you should be dealing with."

Riki crossed his arms and leaned against the booth's cushioned back-rest.

"Tell you what, Boss, next time you take a few days off and I'll do your work. How's about that?"

Katze looked so appalled at the thought that Riki started laughing.

"I really must go." The crimson-haired mongrel extended a hand to Tir and smiled warmly at the younger man. "It's been a pleasure. And if you're ever looking for a job, com me." He cast a disdainful look at the chortling Riki. "That idiot over there can give you the code."

Tir smiled sweetly and took the long-fingered hand in his own.

"It was really nice to finally meet you. Riki's mentioned you so often; I couldn't help but be curious. And thank you for the offer. I don't think I'll be needing it, but it's very kind of you to extend it."

"Well, it was worth a try. I need more people with your level of expertise. I hope Captain Vere knows how lucky he is to have you."

Tir turned pink once more and lowered his eyes.

"Go on, Katze, get outta here before you embarrass the kid any worse. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

Throwing a speaking glance at Riki, the tall mongrel nodded to Tir and walked off.

"Don't forget to pay the bill while you're at it," Riki called after him. Katze flipped him off without even turning and kept going.

"Ah man, that was fun. That guy shoulda been born an Elite. All that arrogance is wasted on a mere mongrel."

"Really? He's a mongrel? He's so tall and he's got that really red hair and the gold eyes. I thought that was an Elite combination."

"It is, but obviously it occurs naturally sometimes. Katze grew up in a Ceres orphanage."

Pulling out his wallet, Riki retrieved his card and dropped it into the table's payment slot. It was accepted immediately (Iason Mink's credit always was). Pocketing the thin leather sleeve, he looked up at Tir.

"Ready to go?"

After the restaurant's dim atmosphere, the afternoon sun was blinding and Riki slid a pair of thin shades on. Tir followed suit and they walked in silence for a while, enjoying the sights of Midas' gaudy shopping district.

"I forgot to ask, Riki. Did your Blondie like his birthday present?"

He didn't have to look at the other mongrel to know the kid was blushing like crazy. The tone of his voice was enough to tell him that. Grinning, he tilted his glasses down and looked at Tir over the tops.

"Oh yeah. We both did."

Kid did embarrassment pretty well. Good thing, since he seemed to spend most of his time in that state. At least around Riki.

"That reminds me," the dark mongrel said. "I wanted to ask you a favor."

"You know I'll do it. You've already done so much for me and I have no idea how to repay you."

"Tir, we're friends. Keeping you company's no hardship." Riki ducked his head, feeling uncomfortable with the younger man's gratitude.

"It's more than that, but I'll leave it a alone for now. What do you need?"

Riki tossed him a data chip.

"Load that into your terminal. If a little red light ever pops up in the top-right corner of your monitor, you'll know I'm in deep shit. That happens, you com Iason, okay?"

"Alright," Tir answered slowly. "But why me? I mean, surely Iason and Katze need this more than I do."

"It'll get to them. But ever since I got nailed by a stunner two years ago, I'm a lot more cautious. What happens if both of them are down, too? Someone we trust needs to be mobile and you're a good bet, Tir. You've got the meanest Team in the League plus a whole mountain of Blondie backing you up. And I haven't even added Ming into the equation, yet. It doesn't get much better than that.

'Sides, Iason's been even more paranoid than normal, lately. Now I can tell him I've got another escape hatch, maybe he'll stop twitching."

A slow smile covered the other mongrel's face.

"You don't want to worry him."

"Aaaack! Who said anything about that?! I just want him off my back!"

Leaning over, Tir brushed his mouth over Riki's cheek.

"Nice guy, Riki," he whispered in the taller man's ear, then laughed when Riki jumped, swore and swung at him. He dodged the half-hearted blow easily and skipped a couple of steps ahead.

"You take that back," Riki growled. "I am not."

"Are too, are too. Now, now," Tir said when his friend made a grab for him, "keep being nice, or I won't give you that new game I've been working on."

Riki straightened immediately, his eyes going starry.

"The sequel to 'Merc's Dream'?"

"Uh-huh. So be good and you can have it." Pulling a hand-held vid-game from his inner jacket pocket, he waved it temptingly under Riki's nose.

Staring at the small device, Riki tapped a contemplative finger against his lips.

"Nah, too much trouble. Think I'll just take it."

He swiped at Tir, who shrieked and ran, Riki right behind him, both of them laughing like complete lunatics.

The surprised Midas citizens shook their heads and got out of the way. Mongrels.

8

Raoul stood in the doorway of the dojo attached to the Forsythia Lodge and let his gaze wander leisurely over the man kneeling in the center of the floor.

Guy had stripped down to the loose white pants of his gi and soft moonlight played over incredibly tight muscles, shading the ridges and hollows. The mongrel's physique had always been impressive, but after almost two months of training daily, for hours at a time, Guy's body was a work of art.

Long brown fingers splayed against strong thighs and a katana lay across slightly parted knees. As the Blondie watched, Guy rose in one fluid movement and began the first of the sword katas.

He moved deliberately; not fast, but never faltering, the exercise obviously meant as a meditation tool rather than a training technique.

"I know you're there, Sensei."

Raoul took it for the invitation it was, shedding his outer kimono and crossing the room to retrieve his blade. Steel hissed as he pulled it from its sheath.

Walking to where the mongrel waited, Raoul looked into eyes whose pupils had swallowed up any hint of grey.

"Just steel, no force?" he asked, and Guy nodded.

Then he brought his blade up and Guy's rose to meet it. They moved together through the ritualized katas, katanas barely kissing before sliding away, then doing it all over again.

Raoul felt the perfection of every motion, the precise beauty in the arc of his blade. Heaven must be like this, he thought, then let the words slide from his consciousness.

Rising above the chaos of his mind, he searched for and found the plane where nothing existed but himself and the steel in his hand. Nothing except the man who stood opposite him across that chasm of clarity.

---

They lay side by side on the wood, their bodies tired and sore, their skin misted with sweat.

"Why did you leave the competition today?"

Guy rolled his head to look at Raoul. The Blondie was graceful even sprawled across a floor, one arm crooked to support his head. He hadn't braided his hair back tonight, and Guy had the overwhelming urge to reach out and run his fingers through the long golden strands. He squashed it.

"You looked like you had enough company. And I didn't want to bug you if you wanted to spend some time with your friend."

The beautiful face turned towards him.

"Friend? Oh... you mean Kei. I suppose we were friends once, but we are no more than acquaintances now. Our lives have gone separate directions."

Propping himself up on his elbow, Guy looked down at the Blondie, hungry for any little piece of Raoul he could get.

"I—got the feeling there was something there."

Raoul was silent for long minutes.

"Not in the way you mean. Amongst the Elite, relationships develop occasionally, but they are frowned on. And as a Blondie I am required not to involve myself emotionally or physically with another human."

The mongrel's jaw dropped.

"You're kidding."

Raoul gave him a measured look.

"Have you ever known me to do so?"

"Well, no. I guess Jupiter left out the sense of humor when she designed you Blondies."

There was a moment of startled silence, then Raoul's soft laughter filled the night.

"If I didn't possess such a thing before, I would have had to develop one simply to survive your mouth. Iason once called you a 'walking attitude problem'. I've found his assessment to be quite accurate."

Guy was grinning.

"Now you've gone and hurt my feelings, Sensei. The pain, oh the pain!" He clutched his chest, writhing in apparent agony.

Raoul snorted.

"As if anything could put a dent in your stubborn head. Ha!"

They lay there for a minute, smiling at each other, and Guy decided to push his luck.

"So... if you weren't, like, partners or something, then why is he so pissy? And the look on your face when you saw him wasn't too happy, either, you know?"

Sighing, Raoul pushed waves of shining gold hair back from his face.

"We were colleagues when I interned here in Berangora. That's when I started attending the School.

I'd always known I was meant for Eos, though, and when Jupiter called, I went. I wanted Kei to come with me. We worked well together and he could have been an asset to my department, but he wanted to stay here.

We fought about it. In those days, I was quite passionate about my work and very focused on it. I couldn't believe that Kei would behave in such a selfish manner, deciding what he would do based on personal wants rather than the needs of civilization.

I was—very young."

Guy stayed silent, trying to imagine the Blondie as a much younger man, probably not even out of his teens. As for Kei Maruto... Raoul might not have had any deeper feelings for the man, but the Silver Elite wanted more from the Blondie than just friendship. Raoul must be blind if he couldn't see it.

Then again, the golden Elite hadn't noticed Guy's infatuation, so he should probably be grateful for his Sensei's selective ignorance.

"And you? What was your youth like? Unlike Iason, I'm not familiar with Ceres or its ways."

Flopping down on the boards, Guy rested his hands lightly on his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

"I don't remember much about being a kid. My dad moved us around a lot and he'd dump me on a cousin of his every time he wanted to take off for a while. Eventually he just never came back. I think I was twelve.

By then I was running with Luke and Sid and we started calling ourselves Bison. I stole my first bike when I was fourteen. Damn, was I a scrawny kid! Wasn't big enough to ride one before that. Y'know, my bike's the only thing I really miss besides the guys."

"You enjoyed it?"

"Oh yeah." Guy closed his eyes, remembering the feel of all that power between his thighs; the way the wind would whip your hair and clothes, the exhilaration of going so fast you thought you were gonna blow apart.

"It's the best feeling in the world. Just you and the machine and the road beneath you. And speed. There's nothing like punching it to see just how much you and the bike can take."

"It sounds dangerous. And strangely attractive."

Guy laughed.

"It's a worse addiction than any tripper ."

"Then Bison was your gang originally?"

"Well, kinda. I mean, when I decided to do something, the guys usually tagged along. And then I met Riki. Man, at fifteen he was skinny as hell. Cute, though. He always was."

"How did you meet?"

"We'd just robbed a guy. I had his stuff and he almost caught me when this kid comes outta nowhere and knocks him flat. I ran like crazy and Riki came with me. He helped 'cause he didn't want to see me get nailed.

We started hanging together after that and he sorta took the lead when it came to what Bison did. I didn't mind. He was much better at getting the guys organized than I ever was."

Raoul looked at the man beside him, thinking about Guy's words. It was true that, of the two, Riki would make the better leader. The black mongrel had the same indefinable aura of self-assurance that Iason possessed. And a certain cocky charisma that was charming in its own way.

Guy, though... His intensity would be too strong for many to take. When he went after something, he did it with stubborn single-mindedness that would make a less driven, less intelligent man uneasy.

Raoul recognized it because he felt those same characteristics within himself. It was why Iason ran the Syndicate and let Raoul deal with Tanagura's intellectual and scientific matters. Raoul wasn't built for the intricate politics of the business world. Direct to the point of bluntness, he didn't know how to be any other way.

This wasn't the first time he'd felt a kinship to the young mongrel, and it grew stronger every time they set foot in the dojo. The bond between master and student was even more pronounced for them, sharing the same condo and practically living on the training floor as they did these days.

"So Riki led Bison. I took over when Iason grabbed him, but even before that, he started pulling away from us. He was working for Katze then, too, doing something that we had no part of. I think even if he'd never met Iason, he'd be somewhere else, maybe off-world."

Guy turned his head and their eyes met.

"What did you want out of life, Guy? What would you have done if none of this had ever happened?"

"I didn't know what I wanted. That was the problem. I was just going through life, letting it happen to me instead of trying to get somewhere.

I—I love this you know. The look of a dojo. The feel of a katana in my hands. I think—if I hadn't screwed up so badly—that this is how I would want to live. Maybe join the competition circuit for a while then start my own dojo when I made third dan. Give Ceres kids an alternative to fighting and stealing."

He broke off and laughed, discomfort evident.

"Yeah, listen to the mongrel. It must sound dumb to you, me thinking about stuff like that."

"No."

Raoul sat up and leaned over Guy's prone figure. Reaching out, he let his fingers trace the mongrel's startled features, lingering on the straight nose and the unbelievable softness of full lips. His unfettered hair swung forward, cocooning them in pale silk.

Guy was looking up at him, mouth slightly parted, eyes alight with that something Raoul still couldn't name. He understood it somehow, though, and when Guy reached up to cup his face, he leaned into the mongrel's touch.

Then Guy's hand dropped and closed around his own, their fingers twining together. Lifting Raoul's hand to his mouth, the mongrel brushed a barely-there kiss across the backs of his fingers.

"Thank you, Sensei."

He nodded wordlessly, not wanting to speak for fear of what he might say.

Raoul wasn't sure how long they stayed that way—Guy lying with his head against Raoul's knee, the Blondie's hair drifting over him, their hands still clasped together—but when he finally looked up, the rosy haze of dawn had begun to show in the sky.

9

"How many times will you undermine the structure of our society, Iason? The Army is a necessary part of any civilization and creating friction within it of such magnitude does nothing to keep Tanagura stable."

Iason crossed his legs and gazed at the creature of light and energy hovering mid-air across from him. Jupiter had finally decided to call him to order. He couldn't say he was surprised.

"The matter would have been dealt with one way or the other. The flow of those drugs had to be stopped. Already, there have been a number of related deaths reported on some of this system's border planets. Such criminal negligence is bad for Amoi in every way.

Do you wish to see us loose business and stature with other worlds?" he asked.

"Indeed not. But you handled this affair with an extremely maladroit touch, unheard of for you, so I can only surmise it was deliberate."

"You condone what was done to Mattias Vere's pet, then?"

He could not stop the edge from entering his voice and Jupiter's glowing brow creased.

"Mattias should have come to me. The situation need never have arisen."

She dematerialized, reforming in front of him in a shower of white light. Hands with no real substance cupped his face and he shuddered, unable to completely conceal his revulsion at the feel of her inside his head.

Do you still shrink from me, Iason, after so many years? Would you prefer that my touch be flesh and blood, like that of your mongrel

The melancholy in the AI's mental voice surprised him, but he made himself answer calmly.

"I don't mean to distress you," he said, "but it is an odd feeling having someone else inhabiting your mind."

He had the impression of amusement, and then Jupiter was imparting information and images to him that only this strange link would allow.

He saw chaos. The AI gave him her memories of the original settlement and the dissolution of the Old City; the formation of the Great Ruin that lay against the desolate nothing of the Waste. He felt her sorrow for the needless destruction of life and talent.

All this, he had seen before, but now she showed him something new: a man, striding before a group of armed soldiers, calmly giving orders. His shoulder-length blonde hair swung free around a face which bore a striking resemblance to the one Iason saw in the mirror every morning.

Then the vision changed and the man appeared once more, this time standing before Jupiter in an unfamiliar room. The AI's ethereal hands lay against the man's palms and he smiled up at her. The look on her face was simply radiant.

The man turned and left and the scene changed yet again. An explosion of huge proportions rocked the building where Jupiter hung, suspended in her incandescent aura. Iason could feel her scream of anguish shiver through his soul. Then the images faded and he opened his eyes to look into glowing blue ones.

His death was the beginning of the end. The insurrectionists had already taken over most of the city. Paul was the only thing keeping them in check. It was right afterward that I guided the remnants of our civilization's humanity underground and detonated the rest of the charges he died to put in place.

Releasing Iason's face from her hands, she once more became a golden shower, floating back to her pedestal where she coalesced into the ascetically perfect figure so familiar to him.

"There is nothing I would not do to perpetuate his dream of peace and prosperity for Amoi," she said, her bell-like tones ringing through the oddly shaped room. "I ask that you remember that before you act irresponsibly towards the rest of this city."

Iason rose and bowed to the AI who had created and basically raised him. His mind was busy, turning the puzzle of the man he'd just seen over and over in his head. Who had he been?

Stepping into the Tower's elevator, he punched the button for the ground floor then leaned his head back against the metal wall. At least he now knew why he'd always been favored by Jupiter. He looked almost exactly like the man she must have... loved?

---

"I'd like to ask you a hypothetical question, Riki."

"Umm?"

His Pet was playing some hand-held game Mattias Vere's mongrel had invented and if Riki's absorption was anything to go by, the pretty creature would probably make a mint if he decided to market it.

Distribution of a new game like this one could be good or bad, depending on how you looked at it. On one hand, release of such a creation into both the legitimate and black markets would stimulate the economy. Production would provide new jobs. On the other... no one would get anything done, ever again. They'd all be too busy trying to beat the damn thing.

"Riki."

"What?!"

The mongrel jumped at Iason's sharp tone and turned injured eyes on him.

"What did I do?"

"It's more what you didn't do. I've been trying to talk to you for the last five minutes."

"Oh." Riki pushed his hair back, grinning sheepishly at Iason. "Sorry. But Tir made level five damn hard and I was just about to-,"

Iason held up one hand to halt the spate of gamer dialect.

"I know. Do you think you could slay the dragon and rescue the princess later?"

"Weeeelllll... I suppose so. But actually it's a Lanthian pollyworgg, and the princess deserted her throne to become a merc, and-,"

Iason covered his eyes with long fingers.

"Riki."

Black eyes blinked innocently at him.

"Yes, Magnificent One?"

He stared at the mongrel.

"You're the one who's always telling me I don't show you enough respect. Thought I'd give it a shot."

Iason gave up. Dropping onto the lounge opposite Riki's armchair, he lay full length along it and put and arm over his aching forehead.

"Hey."

A hand pressed down the cushion on which his throbbing head lay, and then Riki knelt over him, legs on either side of his hips.

"I was just messing with you, Iason. All you had to do was tell me to shut-up."

Gentle hands moved his arm from his face and strong fingers threaded through his hair, massaging his scalp and the bone beneath.

"Ohhhhhhhhh... That—feels—so—good."

"Idiot. Shoulda told me you were having one of your headaches. Jupiter called you up to the Tower, didn't she?"

"Yes."

The fingers rubbed his temples, Riki's thumbs brushing lightly over his closed eyes. Bliss.

"You ever tell her that whenever she does her mind-meld thing, you end up with a migraine?"

"Mmmm. No." This felt so wonderful, he was practically purring. "It would only upset her and sometimes it's the best way to see what she wants to show me."

"Mmph. I don't think it's good for you."

Laughing, Iason opened his eyes to look up at his mongrel.

"I can just picture myself telling her that she can't speak mind-to-mind with me anymore because my Pet won't allow it."

Riki started snickering.

"Oh that'd go down real well, I'm sure."

Pulling Riki down to him, Iason turned so that they lay facing each other on their sides. His dark mongrel snuggled in against him and he let the contentment of mutual possession wash over him.

"So what did you want to ask me?"

"Oh." With everything else, he'd almost forgotten. "As I said, it's a hypothetical question. I want your gut reaction, so answer with your emotions, not your head."

"Now that's a change. You're always telling me to think before I act."

"Riki..."

"Go ahead, Blondie. I'm listening."

"Suppose that some of the Syndicate's rivals from Akkaad or Geia managed to assassinate me. What would be your first impulse?"

Riki's eyes got even bigger, the pupils growing to engulf both irises.

"I'd kill them, nice and slow. Take 'em apart one piece at a time. Then I'd kill their lieutenants. Then I'd blow up their headquarters. Then I'd-,"

"I think I've got the gist of it, you blood-thirsty creature." Iason pressed a kiss to Riki's livid mouth. "Jupiter showed me something very surprising today and I'm testing a tentative theory."

Riki was frowning at him.

"What's your getting killed by some corporate whack-job got to do with Jupiter?"

"Not my death, Riki. Someone else's. Someone she cared for deeply."

The mongrel's jaw dropped.

"You mean she's been cheating on you? Jeez, Iason, that's harsh."

Iason tweaked his nose.

"Imp. Imagine, Pet, that you are a creature of endless power and mental capacity; you can design and create people and worlds as though you were a god. But you cannot save the person you love from death. How would that feel?"

Riki blinked.

"I think we've gone from hypothetical to straight-up weird. Raoul's the psych-man, not me. Maybe you should give him a call."

"I'm not sure this is something I want to tell him."

"Why not?" Riki reached up to push Iason's bangs back. "I thought you guys told each other most stuff."

"Because I'm beginning to think that everything Jupiter has done and continues to do, including destroying old Tanagura, has been revenge for a man dead almost three-hundred years."

His pet's mouth formed a round 'O' of surprise.

"That's some seriously heavy shit, Iason. Who was this guy?"

"I'm not certain... but I do know one thing."

"What's that?" Riki prodded.

"My face is an almost exact replica of his."

10

Raoul sat in his comfortable chair and stared at his desk, the ceiling, the view of Eos from his office window... anything but the document he'd just received via email. It was short, only two paragraphs, and it had ripped his morning to shreds in less than fifteen seconds.

The trip to Berangora had been good for him; staying on the Ito School's grounds and training once more with his Master had relaxed something in both his mind and body that had been tight for a very long time. Having Guy there to share it with him had been strangely right.

They'd arrived home late last night and he'd come in to the office this morning to find this—a notice from the Arena that guards would be sent to pick Guy up tomorrow. And their apologies for any trouble the mongrel might have caused while under house arrest.

He closed his eyes, blotting out the words he'd already read four times. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, Guy would be gone. And he would be alone again.

---

"Sensei?"

Guy tapped tentatively at the study door. Raoul had been in there since nineteen-thirty and it was now twenty-five-hundred. Guy had already called the servitor in to clear the untouched dinner he'd ordered away and there was still no response from his Sensei. He'd left worry far behind and moved on to fear.

Raoul had spent the entire day at the bioengineering building, but Guy had expected that. They'd been gone a week, enough time for a hundred little problems to crop up and land on the Blondie's desk.

So Guy had programmed the training simulator with about fifty different sequences and spent most of the day in the dojo. Not as good as working with Sensei, but better than nothing.

He'd knocked off around fifteen-thirty, wanting to take a shower and be clean by the time Raoul got home. The Blondie could spend all day in a sweat-drenched gi without a word of complaint, but the moment he set foot outside the dojo, he made a bee-line for a twenty-minute shower.

And yes, it was always twenty minutes. Guy had timed it more than once.

Dressed in jeans and a Tee and more than a little tired, he'd gone to his room to finish Musashi's 'Book of Five Rings', an ancient treatise of combat strategy, on the PCP Raoul had given him. He didn't think they'd train tonight—Raoul would be weary from work and he was already half asleep. So he'd order from the kitchens in about an hour and they'd probably spend the evening in the great room, reading.

He'd awakened an hour later to the sound of Raoul's soft foot-falls. Yawning, he wandered out to greet the Blondie, but Raoul had merely nodded at him, then barricaded himself in the study.

He tapped again, a little harder this time.

"Raoul?"

Raoul. What's wrong?

---

Raoul stood at his study's window, a glass of wine dangling from negligent fingers, and listened to Guy call his name. Leaning his forehead against the plas, he let the cool surface soothe his burning skin. Too much wine on an empty stomach always made him feel as if his entire body was on fire.

"Raoul!"

Guy's voice was a demand now, no longer a gentle question. The boy had learned his lessons too well. If the mongrel had been less polite, he'd have discovered a while ago that Raoul hadn't sealed the port.

"It's open," he called and immediately the door slid to the side.

Guy stepped through, looking wildly around the room until his gaze found Raoul at the window. Instantly, the mongrel's shoulders relaxed. A second later they tensed back up.

"What the hell is going on, Raoul? You scared me half to death, not saying anything and not coming out to eat. You want to let me in on what I did wrong? 'Cause I can't think of anything."

Raoul watched the angry man in front of him hungrily. After tomorrow, he would never be able to stand here and talk to Guy in his home; would never again stick his head in the door of Guy's room and tell him to get moving, it was oh-six-hundred and the training floor was empty.

Would never have the luxury of just looking at the mongrel he'd come to think of as his.

"Guy."

His name, spoken in Raoul's even tone, stopped the mongrel mid-tirade.

"Sensei?"

He took a step towards the Blondie, concern in his eyes.

"If I said you were free to go right now; that I want you to leave Eos tonight and disappear, what would you do?"

Grey eyes blinked. Guy opened his mouth but closed it without speaking. It was as though someone had dealt him a blow to the head and he couldn't get his balance back. Raoul could see the thoughts racing behind shocked eyes and he knew the instant Guy realized what had happened.

"They're coming for me. Tomorrow?"

"Yes."

The mongrel stared at him mutely for a moment, and then the tall, slim frame straightened.

"I would thank you, Sensei. You have been kinder to me than I deserve. But I would decline."

Raoul's wine glass flew across the room and shattered against the wall, the dark red liquid dripping like blood from slashed flesh down to the floor.

"Dammit, Guy, you'll do as I tell you!" Raoul walked to his desk and sat down at the terminal. "I can either give you the codes and you can leave in an hour when there's only the electronic security, or I'll take you myself, right now."

"Raoul, you can't just drive me to Ceres!"

Raoul sniffed.

"Give me some credit. We'll go to Midas. You know how to get hold of your friends, don't you?"

"No. I'm not going to let you do this."

"Not going to let me, mongrel?"

Raoul's voice purred dangerously across Guy's senses and he crossed the room to kneel by the Blondie's chair, bowing his head.

"Sensei... I've already dishonored myself. Please don't let my shame stain your name as well. If I go—they'll know you let me. There's no other way I could manage it."

He waited in silence for a long time. Then a hand came to rest gently against his cheek. It tilted his head up and he looked into tormented blue-green eyes.

"I don't want you there. I can't let you die like that. No matter how good you are, and you are very good, you cannot go into combat every day without fail and cheat death forever."

"It's a better death than many others," Guy said quietly. "By explosion being among them. I made this fate for myself, Sensei."

He shifted so that he sat with his head resting against Raoul's thigh. The Blondie's hands continued to stroke his face and hair, and in this moment he felt at peace.

"Do you still love him?"

"Riki, you mean?" He spoke without moving or opening his eyes, not wanting to destroy the illusory feeling of contentment. "In a way. He's my best friend. I miss seeing him, talking to him. I'd love to just look at him one more time, to see he's really alive, you know?"

"I know. When Iason first came out of the regrowth chamber, I'd go sit by him to do just that. To have visual proof that he was alive and getting better."

Sighing, Guy relaxed against Raoul, laying his cheek against warm, firm muscle.

"Will you stand with me, Sensei? When they come, I mean?"

The hand stroking his hair faltered just slightly before resuming it's measured caress.

"Yes, Guy. Of course I will."

The golden Elite's gentle touch lulled him nearer to sleep and eventually he felt Raoul shift beneath him. Then he was being lifted and carried, the sensation so familiar. He tucked his face against his Sensei's throat and twined his fingers through the long strands of blonde silk.

"So beautiful."

"Mmm. You've said that before," Raoul replied, amused affection in his voice.

"Well, 's true," he said in a sleep-blurred voice.

"I'm glad you think so, Guy-chan," Raoul said softly.

He was lowered to his bed and he burrowed into his pillow immediately, exhausted. Warm lips brushed his temple and he came out of his stupor just a little.

"Raoul? Stay?"

"Yes."

The bed dipped under the Blondie's weight and then Raoul's warmth surrounded him. Sleep took him.

11

They left Eos at twelve-hundred, Raoul's car moving south at an easy glide towards Midas. Guy watched the changing scenery through the tinted windows, sitting quietly beside his silent Sensei.

Raoul had commed the Captain of the Arena's guards early this morning to inform him that the Blondie would be bringing Guy in himself. Aside from asking if it wasn't too much of an imposition on Mr. Jervaux, the man had voiced no protest. Midas grunts didn't talk back to Tanagura Elite.

The closer they got, the more utilitarian the buildings became. The Arena was situated on the city's outskirts, near the southern warehouse district. During the day, the area was full of transports and long-distance haulers. At night it lit up like a glitter-dome, the Arena's crystalline walls shedding white light over the people from all walks of life who came to watch men do their best to kill each other.

Raoul's driver pulled up at the gates to the Gladiator's compound and spoke briefly to the man on duty. Then the thick metal barrier slid upward and they droved through, pulling up in front of an oddly structured stone building. When Raoul's driver came around to open the Blondie's door, two men dressed in the gold and red uniform of the Arena Guard came down the shallow stone steps.

They quailed slightly when the Blondie emerged from the long, low car, but stood their ground. One stepped forward and bowed to the Elite.

"Good day, Sir. May I be of service?"

Raoul's blue-green eyes swept the compound briefly before coming to rest on the young man in front of him.

"I've business with your captain, boy. Go tell him that Raoul Jervaux is here."

The guard hesitated, jittering nervously in place.

"If you are delivering a prisoner, he must be restrained at all times."

Raoul turned a withering look on the boy.

"He is collared. You may go."

The two guards retreated hastily, disappearing between high stone columns. Guy, watching from the car, remembered the reaction of the Laocoon's manager to that same tone of voice. Dark humor filled him. He really didn't blame the poor buggers. When Raoul was pissed, the smartest thing to do was get out of his way. And right now, his Sensei was righteously pissed. Mainly at him, if he wasn't mistaken.

They'd had a knock-down drag-out yelling match this morning, then spent a couple of hours hacking at each other on the training floor. Guy refused to leave and Raoul was ready to drag him back to Ceres by the length of his braid. They'd gone round and round, getting no where, until Iason commed Raoul, wanting to know if Guy was gone yet.

When the Blondie emerged from his office, he stood in front of Guy and turned the air blue for ten minutes straight, letting the mongrel know in no uncertain terms what an idiotic ass he was. Guy just stood there and took it, waiting for the finale.

"I'll take you myself," the Blondie had finally said, then glared at Guy as if daring the mongrel to contradict him.

Guy nodded and said:

"You'd better put that collar back on me. It'll make the guards less trigger-happy."

The look Raoul had given him would have turned Medusa herself to stone.

"Guy."

He looked up to see his Sensei standing in the car door, a katana strap slung over the broad chest.

"Come."

---

"He know how to fight at all?"

Captain Hernandez switched the cigar in his mouth from one side to the other, cool eyes appraising his newest Gladiator. Raoul moved his gaze from Guy's bent head to catch the Captain's curious stare.

"He is trained in the sai, the bo, various short swords and throwing knives but the katana is his weapon. And he has a tongue. He may speak for himself."

The Captain's eyes had widened at the list of Guy's abilities. They shot back to the mongrel, giving him another once over, trying to see what he'd missed.

"Those ain't regular Arena issue. He got his own blade?"

"Yes."

Raoul stepped in front of the captain, blocking Guy from his view, and stared into the calculating brown eyes. Sliding the strap from his shoulder, Raoul pulled the sword he carried from its leather cradle.

One moment the Captain was staring greedily at the beautiful blade; in the next, that honed steel tip was pressing against the base of his throat. He started to swallow, then thought better of it when the motion dug the sharp point even deeper. He looked up into merciless Blondie eyes.

"The blade belongs to the mongrel. I will hear if anything untoward happens to it or him. Do we understand one another?"

"Y-yes Sir."

Raoul resheathed the katana. Turning to stand in front of Guy, he bowed slightly, holding the blade out. Grey eyes gazed wistfully into his as the mongrel accepted the sword.

"Are you certain, Sensei? Master Shinjo gave this to you."

"You need the best. That should serve you well."

The Captain, who'd been watching them, mouth agape, pulled himself together and cleared his throat.

"Well. Well, I'd better have him registered and quartered. I'll send the sword to the arms-master. He'll have it available when the boy wants it."

Raoul nodded slightly at the man and stood back, arms crossed.

The Captain pressed a button on his desk pad and immediately two guards entered and stood at attention on either side of the door.

"Take this man to processing and get him chipped. Then have Sergeant Grantham show him to quarters."

"Yes, Sir," two voices chorused and the guards moved to stand on either side of Guy.

The mongrel's eyes had not left Raoul and now he bowed deeply to the Blondie, still holding the katana. When he straightened, Raoul came forward to put a hand on each straight shoulder.

"May the luck of the Gods be yours, Guy-chan," the Blondie said softly.

Guy blinked and Raoul could see bright tears swimming across the misty grey. They stayed there, not falling, as mongrel and Blondie looked at each other.

"Goodbye Sensei."

Raoul watched as they took his mongrel away then turned and left without another word to the shell-shocked Captain of the Guard.

---

"You got a name?"

Guy looked at the man who sat in front him, entering his statistics into a terminal, turning him into one number in a long line of them.

"Do you really need one?" he asked evenly.

"Weeeellll, usually Gladiators like to take a fight-name. Y'know... like Ares or somethin'. Sure sounds better than number one-forty-one."

Guy remained silent for a moment, thinking. Gazing off into the distance, he smiled a little, startling the young corporal across from him.

"Call me Ronin, then. It's what I am."

The Other Side – part 1 << >> The Other Side – part 3

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