To thine own self
by Ainzfern
This above all, to thine own self be true
– William Shakespeare
1
In the small rear-corner room of Iason Mink's Eos Tower penthouse a dim light spilled from the open doorway, illuminating the plush carpeting of the short hallway that lead back into the main rooms of the grand apartment. Hunched in his chair, his dark eyes intent on the data that was currently streaming down the screen, Riki quietly keyed in a final sequence of instructions, nodding with satisfaction as a second window opened at the corner of the screen, a list of names and contact details within rapidly growing, extrapolated from the streaming data by this last, in what had turned out to be a long line of code-breaks that Riki had tried tonight.
Leaning back, Riki stretched hugely and flexed his shoulders, wincing as stiff muscles slowly uncramped themselves.
Damn... this one had been a fuckin' pain in the ass.
The United Industries files always were. With his full mouth quirking into a little smile, Riki glanced at the time displayed on his desk clock. He winced momentarily at the late hour then, considering who he was actually about to call, he shrugged philosophically and picked up his phone, speed dialing the required number.
A mere moment passed, then... "Katze?" Riki grinned at the wall. "Yeah, it's done. The Enigma encryption was the one that broke in. Eventually. The contact list should be coming through to you now."
He paused, waiting for Katze's affirmative. As soon as it came, Riki bade him goodnight without fanfare and rose to his feet, leaving the program running towards completion by itself. Within a few more moments, Katze would have the contacts list that Riki had been able to crack out of United Industries distribution portfolio. The canny ex-Furniture, and undisputed Ceres black market lead dealer, would make a few calls to various contacts he had networked across several planets in the Amoian regime and, by the time any of the United Industries delegates arrived to talk trade with their potential clients, Katze's people – and quite possibly Katze himself in some cases – would have been and gone already. Deals would have been done, contracts signed, the whole works and jerks.
Riki could understand Katze's near-fanaticism in this case, however. Over the last few months, United Industries had been trying to push their way into the markets of Amoi, traditionally Katze's territory. And, Riki had to admit, they were almost as devious and underhanded as Katze was.
Almost...
But they'd gotten the red-head's back up, all right. Riki snorted softly in amusement. Thus, Katze was now determined to block their advance at every turn. So far, he was winning. Quite frankly, Riki couldn't see any evidence to indicate that this state of affairs was going to change at any time in the near future. Katze was just too deeply ingrained in the business. Plus... he had a silent partner who was literally the most powerful man in Amoi, a man whose arm, if required, could become very long indeed.
Which was good. Katze was occasionally his boss, yes, but he was also his friend.
Riki liked to see his friends get ahead.
As he padded down the short hallway, past Dane's darkened room and into the main penthouse area, he stifled a soft chuckle, mindful of making too much noise at this time of night. He had to admit, the irony still tickled him. The room he had just been in, his small but functional office that Iason had arranged to be converted so that he could work from home if he desired, used to be his bedroom at one time.
Only a couple of years back, chronologically, yet it felt like a veritable life-time ago.
Moving quietly, Riki entered the main bedroom, pausing for a moment and listening for the deep and regular breathing from the middle of the bed which would indicate that Iason was fully asleep. Occasionally, when Riki worked the later hours on some obscure task for his now-and-then black market boss, Iason would choose to keep company in his office with him, seated bedside Riki's desk in a deep comfortable armchair, reviewing Syndicate files while Riki tapped rapidly away at his keyboard and light and idle conversation flowed back and forth between them.
But not tonight. The Syndicate had just completed its major sitting for the last financial year, with each department clamoring to Iason for their share of new budgetary funding.
In truth, Riki smiled gently as he quietly stripped off, laying his clothes over the foot of the bed before slipping naked under the warm covers, if someone had tried to tell him four years ago that he would live to see an exhausted Blondie, he would never had believed them.
He did now. Iason had arrived home late himself, waspish and distracted. He had only wanted to eat a light meal and pass a few words with Riki before seeking his bed... which in Riki's opinion had been a rather good thing. Iason in a bad mood was just not that easy to deal with. It always proved wiser in the long run to leave him to his own devices until he got the hell over it.
He always did.
And besides, Riki had to confess he couldn't blame Iason for feeling a bit ragged. There were days that Riki found handling just one Elite could be overwhelming. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Iason managed to control a whole fuckin' conferenceroom full of them.
Sighing happily Riki scooted over into the wonderful warmth of Iason's solid body. He wriggled in close, turning onto his side to face Iason and sliding one arm across that smooth broad chest as he closed his eyes and relaxed at last.
Beside him, Iason stirred, murmuring sleepily directly into his ear. "Riki?"
"Yeah, it's me," Riki eased forward and pressed his lips to Iason's warm face. "Go back to sleep."
"Time?" Iason stifled a yawn and, even through the dim light, Riki could see that his eyes were still closed.
"Just after midnight."
Iason moved in towards him slightly, one arm sliding out to encircle him and tuck him even closer into his body. "Why so late?" he asked, his words slurred slightly with sleep.
Resisting the urge to heave a sigh, Riki lifted his hand instead and stroked Iason's silky head, trying to sooth him back into rest once more. "Just had to finish a file for Katze," his voice was low and soft. "Took a bit longer than I thought it would."
Iason made a little discontented sound from deep in his chest. "He sends too much work your way, Riki."
"I don't mind when I have the time," Riki whispered, easing his fingers through Iason's thick mane of hair. "Chey hasn't got anything new coming my way yet. Besides... this way, Katze owes me a favor."
"Nevertheless," Iason sighed softly, deeply, his voice fading slightly. "I shall tell him not to impose so much."
Riki grinned into the darkness and shook his head. "Uhm, no... you won't actually."
"Hmmm," Iason vented another deep exhalation and settled again, his face smoothing out as he drifted back into repose.
Smiling, Riki closed his own eyes and settled down properly, letting the warmth of Iason's skin, the rhythm of his breathing, lull him towards slumber. For a few moments there was nothing but silence and peace, then...
"Riki..." Iason gasped quietly, shifting a little.
"Huh?" Riki frowned, opening his eyes again.
"Your feet are cold."
Chuckling, Riki shook his head again. "I know." He stroked Iason's hair once more. "Shhh. Go back to sleep, Iason."
"Hmmm." With another deep sigh, Iason finally did so.
Still snickering softly, Riki relaxed again and prepared to follow him.
Blondies... he thought as he drifted blissfully away at last; you had to love 'em.
Entering the final batch of encrypted messages to his small list of trusted associates, Katze smiled grimly and crushed out the stub of his cigarette with the air of a man who has just completed a job well done. Riki's list had been timely, and quite interesting. One of Katze's brows twitched almost irritably as he swiveled his chair away from his multi-terminals and stared across his apartment deep in thought.
It was dark in Katze's utilitarian living space, the few pieces of furniture that he owned illuminated only by a fitful flickering light from his monitor screens. Admittedly it was the middle of the night, so it was logical that the place was dark but, in Katze's case, the apartment was usually kept dim during the daytime too, the heavy curtains over the windows drawn tightly against the light.
He liked it that way. Darkness helped him to think.
So... United Industries were still trying to nose their way into his territory. Standing slowly, Katze stretched hugely, grunting in satisfaction when he heard a soft crack issue from somewhere low in his long back. Lighting another cigarette, he slouched across the room into his small kitchenette, snagging a beer from the refrigerator before moving back into the main room to sprawl on his sofa. Propping his feet up on the coffee table, Katze sipped his beer and thought, staring at the shadows on the wall.
He'd done a pretty good job of organizing the Ceres black market, even if he did say so himself. It had a solid structure, a direction for the future and was steadily profitable. As a matter of fact, although Katze was still the undisputed head dealer of the operation, he had now gotten it to the point where the enterprise practically ran itself.
He had two particular employees... Katze grinned briefly at the wall exhaling a cloud of sweet-scented smoke. He supposed they could easily be considered his 'lieutenants'. Handpicked by him, carefully trained up and placed into key positions of authority, they ran the day-to-day operations of the market, consulting with Katze regularly to give updates and seek guidance. They were honest enough, Katze supposed, keeping their personal embezzlement to acceptable levels. The fact that he knew they did it, and allowed it anyway, actually only served to reinforce their loyalty to him in a twisted and immoral kind of way.
The upshot of all his organizing, all his planning and careful reconstruction of the original shambles that once was the Ceres black market, was that Katze really only had to become directly involved on the ground level in exceptional circumstances.
Like now.
United Industries was a registered, non-governmentally aligned legal corporation. They did 'above the board', clean and straightforward business across many regions of Amoian and federation territories. They declared a reasonable profit each financial year and had a stable share price. There was no place for them in his territory. Katze's smile grew grim. And every time that they tried to usurp any of his market-share, they were going to find him right there, snatching it back from them.
Fuck 'em. Okay, he might have had Iason Mink's backing to start with, but he'd built the Ceres market... resurrecting it from the chaos it had been and launching it as a viable, if somewhat 'under the table', interest.
So far, he knew that the high-players in United Industries did not know who he was. They knew he was there, that was for certain. But they had, as yet, obviously not been able to pin an identity or a location to him.
The reason he was so sure of that, of course, was that he was actually still alive.
He'd become more than just an irritation. He was a thorn in their side. They wanted in on the highly profitable world of 'unofficial' business dealings and Katze was blocking their way.
Then again, Katze wasn't easy to find. Not unless he wanted to be found. He didn't fit the usual description of a black market King-Pin. He was discreet in his private and business dealings. He did not live a lavish lifestyle, no parties, no public appearances with pretty young companions. He kept his head down, and his eyes on his work. He was careful, always had been. And so far, he'd been able to slip very neatly right under United's radar.
Sighing, Katze drew another deep lungful of smoke from his cigarette and flicked the ash off into the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table before laying his head back on the sofa and closing his eyes. He smiled slightly, thinking that he'd need to have another meeting with his two senior employees before too long, to see what they'd been able to arrange with the contacts on Riki's cracked list Katze had forwarded to them.
It was ironic, he pondered as he sat still and quiet. If Riki hadn't actually taken up with Iason again, he probably would have been one of Katze's 'lieutenants' by now.
The kid was smart, no doubt about him. Far smarter that Katze had originally given him credit for.
He continued to think about Riki for a while. Almost absently reviewing his memories of the young mongrel, and how much life had changed for the people around him. Certainly Iason Mink's life was different. Now that Riki was Iason's registered Companion, the leader of the Tanagura Syndicate had pretty much everything he'd ever really wanted. And it showed. There was calmness about Iason now, an inner peace, which Katze had never known in the man in years past.
Riki challenged Iason on many levels; met him as a virtual equal, demanded his respect and got it, too. But he also complimented him. Riki's gregarious nature beautifully offset Iason's more reserved character. He could make the aloof and distant Elite smile, if not always with his lips then with his pale eyes. In return, Riki's more outrageous outbursts were tempered by Iason's maturity and guidance. He now thought before he spoke, he gave at least a modicum of consideration to an action before racing out to do it.
He'd grown up.
In fact, Riki had grown up into the kind of man that Katze, personally, liked very much.
It could have been so easy to hate him, so easy to blame him for virtually stealing Iason's affection from him. Of course that wasn't actually what had happened, Katze knew that, but it still would have been easy to loath him for it nonetheless.
He didn't. He couldn't. Riki had a way about him sometimes. He grew on people.
Sighing once more, Katze opened his eyes and sat forward, crushing out his burned-down cigarette.
Besides, Katze had long since come to accept that Iason Mink had never, would never, look at him with love. Certainly not the kind of love that Katze had once dreamed such foolish little adolescent dreams about. Slowly, Katze lifted one hand to the left side of his face, reaching up under the longer hair he had grown down over it and stroking his fingertips softly down the scar than ran from temple the chin.
Funny... at the time he'd actually loved Iason for giving it to him, rather than just killing him.
Hated the scar. Loved the man.
What a ridiculously contradictory thing humans could be. Katze snorted aloud and shook his head as he heaved himself to his feet once more. Moving back to his terminal covered desk, he stretched again and slipped back into his seat.
Friendship... Weird to think it but, in many ways, he was actually closer to Iason now than he had been when he was the Blondie's Furniture. The elegant Elite now treated him with courtesy and an easy warmth, quite a contrast from the years of the past. That was Riki's doing, in a way, warming up the cold-hearted Syndicate Leader so that he could gift actual friendship on those around him. And, in a very real sense, the fact that this was even possible took a lot of the sting out of Katze's old emotional wounds.
And maybe he had grown up too, Katze reflected whimsically as he checked the programs he was currently running.
It had to happen sooner or later to everyone... even to scarred old Furnitures.
His gaze was caught at that moment by the chess board set up at the edge of his desk. A standard board, showing a game already in progress, it was unusual by the fact that only one set of pieces was placed upon it. Katze smiled suddenly, leaning forward to stare at the board with calculating eyes.
Thinking of unusual friendships...
The idea had been Raoul Am's. Raoul had discovered, during a surprisingly pleasant conversation on the balcony of Iason Mink's penthouse some few months ago, that Katze not only knew how to play, but in fact could deliver a reasonably challenging game.
Stroking his fingers down his chin, Katze's eyes narrowed, assessing his current strategy, even as he huffed another chuckle.
So Raoul had upped the ante a little on his and Katze's rare but consistent games. A remote game. Two boards, one split set of chess pieces, each turn taken as normal. But with the added difficulty of having to visualize your opponent's moves rather than being able to see them. Of having to keep track in one's head of the game thus far.
Katze could appreciate the challenge of it.
So far this game had lasted nearly a week, played only when spaces in schedules allowed, each completed move either phoned through or sent via online messaging.
Raoul Am was a busy man these days. Although he and Katze did cross paths on the odd occasion at Iason and Riki's home, it was difficult to arrange mutually convenient times to even meet, let alone sit down and play a steady game for an hour or two. But this was a surprisingly good compromise. And Katze genuinely enjoyed receiving Raoul's counter moves, inevitably accompanied by some amusing personal note or compliment on Katze's last gambit.
Katze had lost three pieces. Raoul had, so far, lost four. Katze was ahead in the game, but he knew Raoul would rally soon. The Blondie would probably win. He usually did, but Katze was making him work harder for it these days.
With his smile turning slightly smug, Katze reached out and made his next move, before turning to his consol and tapping in a quick E-mail to Raoul's Bio-Lab address.
"Let's see what you make of this one," he murmured as he sent it through, feeling reasonably content that the move would stymie his Elite opponent... few a few minutes, at least.
There. Done.
Nodding, Katze set his shoulders and stood once more, padding back to his sofa. With a deep sigh, he threw himself down again, stretching out full length and closing his eyes. He generally slept here most nights. His lips twitched slightly as he got more comfortable. In actual fact, his bed hadn't been slept in for so long there was probably a layer of dust covering it by now.
With another deep breath Katze relaxed, allowing himself to drift towards rest, while still being in a position to hear if any message alarms came through signaling replies to his earlier dispatches. He dreamed of strategies and amusing conversations and, oddly enough, the Blondie Elite that wavered in and out of those dreams was not actually wearing Iason's face.
Hands loosely clasped behind his back, his expression set in an almost melancholy look of contemplation, Raoul Am, Chief Biologist of Jupiter and second in command of the Tanagura Syndicate, slowly walked the nighttime corridors of Midas' main Bio-Lab facility which was situated just outside of Eos.
His facility.
He trod the spacious and well lit corridors quietly, his step stately, his movements graceful. He was beautiful, entering into the height of his maturity. And, to the outward observer he had all the refined elegance of a marble statue and an equal measure of a comparable item's warmth.
An almost quintessential Elite Blondie, tall and physically powerful, regal and remote; with a face beyond perfection and eyes that shone with razor-sharp intelligence behind their deep emerald hue.
And, right now, he was a rather preoccupied Elite, as well.
He walked with purpose, making his way towards his office, which had been situated for the moment in a hastily annexed space to one side of the building's main experimental lab. The location was pertinent, Raoul felt. The very nature of this newest project, the sheer importance of it, warranted his personal and constant supervision.
He passed through hallways and open-plan offices, his eyes inwardly gazing and filled with thought. Peripherally he noted a few staff still here and there at their desks, even at this late hour. A pair of sleepy night-guards, who immediately affected to look not so sleepy as soon as they spotted him, were posted by the large security doors that fronted the main laboratory. With a distant nod, Raoul strode past them, entering the code into the security panel beside the doors and stepping in as they slid back.
And here... standing in splendid solitude under a powerful down light in the centre of the main work-floor, was his most recent magnum opus.
The amniotic tank.
As he drew closer, halting to stare unwaveringly at it, his brows drew together in an almost unsatisfied way.
Once a tool used to breed perfect human Pets, the tanks had now taken on a new role in the field of medical sciences. At Iason Mink's request following the recent regulatory compliance regarding limits to the number of Pets that could be created, Raoul had contacted an associate in the federation government who had been recommended by Iason himself, Chey Neeson.
In short order, after listening to Raoul's brief overview of the point and purpose of the new tanks, Chey had put him touch with the federation government's head of military and domestic security; a dignified elder statesman who went by the moniker of General Reginald Grace.
General Grace was immediately aware of the possible benefits to a medical treatment unit of this nature. A unit that could heal scarring, repair weapon wounds, even regrow mangled and severed limbs.
He wanted several of the units... and he wanted them as soon as possible.
Demand was certainly not going to be an issue.
Splendid eyes narrowing, Raoul lifted one hand and rested his fingertips lightly to his thoughtfully pursed lips, tilting his head as he slowly circled the unit.
It was smaller than its original predecessor, constructed to be fully self-contained. With reinforced casing and a chemically rebalanced amniotic fluid that he had designed to be more resistant to extremes of cold and heat, the idea was that tanks such as these could be dropped into any situation from weightlessness to crossfire. As long as there was an acceptable power source or generator, then it would work.
Except... it wasn't quite finished yet.
Raoul made a low sound in the back of his throat, a soft little almost-growl of discontent.
Circling the tank once more Raoul continued to stare, and to ponder. The original Pet-bearing tanks were connected to an array of sensors and cables that ran constant diagnostics on the systems and maintained steady life-sign monitoring of the humans inside them.
These tanks would have to be able to do all of that themselves. Their computer cores, back-up temporary power units, diagnostics and patient monitoring would need to be built in.
So far his team of techs and their scientific advisers had offered him several possibilities as to how they might go about doing that.
Raoul sniffed rather disdainfully and turned his back on the tank, moving silently across to his glass-walled office space at the side of the work-floor. Quite frankly... he hadn't really been impressed by any of the suggestions put forth so far.
They lacked... Raoul huffed a mirthless chuckle as he entered his office. They lacked elegance.
Sighing, he sank down gracefully behind his desk, firing up the terminal monitor and almost immediately smiling, slightly but genuinely, when he saw the incoming message there from Iason's ex-Furniture, Katze.
A new move.
Shaking his head, Raoul glanced sideways at the in-progress board set on the far edge of his desk. He was actually mildly startled at the depth of the pleased surge that filled his chest at seeing the message. How odd that he should feel such delight simply because a little mongrel Furniture was capable of strategizing a few solid chess moves.
Although, perhaps it was slightly more than that.
Raoul frowned, thinking about Katze a little more seriously, considering the strange and unexpected acquaintanceship they had apparently struck up. Unquestionably the man was intelligent. Very much so. And he had a certain sardonic wit and a talent for social commentary that Raoul found rather amusing. Certainly there was no harm in cultivating appropriate interactions with him.
It just seemed so odd that it pleased him so much.
Possibly because so little had, on a personal level, for such a long time.
Sitting back, Raoul felt his eyes widen slightly at that realization. Once, not so long ago really, Raoul's life had been filled with flamboyant public appearances and amusing pursuits. Oh, he had always been a scientist of course, and a very talented one – hence his current position – but he had also understood there was more to life than working. In fact, he could clearly recall how, many times, he had gently teased his dearest Elite friend, Iason Mink, about being such a curmudgeon. Had urged him to enjoy life more, loose a little of his stiffness and reserve.
Well Iason had done that all right. By going out and picking himself up the most unlikely and unacceptable diversion an Elite could ever have come up with.
A Ceres mongrel. Not just to be his Pet, but to be his lover.
And, under the burden of the sheer seriousness of that situation... under the genuine fear he'd felt for his friend, Raoul had suddenly found himself playing the role of conscience and reason for Iason, urging caution, warning of the possible ramifications of societal disapproval. He found himself acquiring gravity, carrying the heavy weight of responsibility and leaving his other more sensual entertainments behind without so much as a second thought.
He had matured through that strange and uncomfortable baptism of fire, and had emerged from the ashes as someone he hardly recognized some days.
And now, apparently, it appeared that the world was changing yet again, and he would be required to change right along with it.
Sighing, Raoul pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment.
Of course, he'd already adapted to Riki's now undeniable presence in Iason's life. And, he could honestly admit that the young mongrel had grown into quite an impressive individual. He was obviously quite besotted with Iason, but he was able to function quite well independently of him too. He had his own business affairs, earned his own money and seemed to contribute to the relationship between himself and Iason as a literal equal.
Raoul actually rather liked him. At least, he liked him well enough. The sheer passion in the young man, the way he so outwardly tended to display such emotional fire, still left him discomforted at times.
But, yes... he liked him. And that in itself was a remarkable enough adaptation on his part, he felt.
Particularly considering their history. Raoul had actually had to get rid of his young Pet, Mimea, after an incident of the most appalling breach of conduct on Riki's behalf. She'd been quite valuable, too. A breeding female, and a particularly fine physical specimen, at that. But, as there was absolutely no possible way at the time that Iason would have sent his own Pet away, Raoul had deferred to his friend and sent Mimea back to the Academy for resale.
He'd had no doubts at the time that she would have been snapped up right away.
Some months after that, Raoul had made the decision to sell off his remaining Pets, negotiating them into other Elite households. It had made sense to him to do so, seeing as he hadn't so much as looked at them for longer than he cared to recall. He had virtually stopped using his home in Apathia as well, eventually relocating his Furniture, Mika, to his apartment in Eos and making that his permanent location.
Now, Raoul heaved another quiet sigh and shook his head again. He had become a parody of what he used to chide Iason Mink for being, more enmeshed with his scientific achievements than with his own personal life.
The strange thing was, however, that he didn't actually mind so much. Not anymore. He was older. The world was moving forward. He had his part to play, and play it he would.
Suddenly feeling more than just a little weary, Raoul glanced once more toward the chess board. He smiled again, considering the move that Katze had just sent through.
"Rook to Pawn, D6...Hmm," he muttered, his eyes scanning the board as he visualized the possible outcomes that a counter-move could result in.
There were several.
"Clever move, Katze," he murmured approvingly. "Damned clever move."
Lifting one elegant hand, he reached forward and let it hover over his pieces for a moment before shaking his head. No. He'd need to sleep on this one.
Wretched little mongrel had actually managed to stymie him...
He made a quick call to his driver before rising to his feet, ready to head home at last and get some rest. The issue of the modifications to the tanks would be dealt with soon enough.
There had to be an acceptable solution out there.
He paused, frowning deeply before feeling his face smooth into an almost beatific smile. Turning slowly to look back at the chess board, he nodded his head, feeling the clear simplicity of the answer presenting itself to him.
Katze... of course.
Clever to the point of cunning, and undoubtedly highly talented with computer systems. His upgrade of the Bio-Lab's admin computer system had been a rousing success. Of course, that had just been a quick gratuity. A few hours work here and there over a series of days and it had been done.
This was quite a different proposal and would require a significantly larger portion of the ex-Furniture's time. Of course, Raoul was aware of the silent interests that Iason held in Katze's Ceres black market activities, but he was hopeful that the importance of this latest project Iason had directed him to undertake would mitigate Raoul's desire to have Katze work for him for the duration.
Nodding once more, Raoul left the main lab and headed towards the building's entrance.
He would be in Jupiter Tower tomorrow morning to assist Iason with reviewing the budgetary allocations. He could put the proposal to him then.
He had no doubt Iason was agree.