To thine own self
by Ainzfern
13
"Whoa..." Seated at his desk in his small home office in the Eos penthouse Riki stared at Katze as the ex-Furniture softy wound his orations to a close, uneasiness and no small amount of concern written across his face. "That... that's pretty fuckin' intense, Katze."
From his current seat in Iason's usual armchair next to Riki's desk, Katze nodded. His face seemed unusually pale, even measured against his normal pallor of complexion. "Intense is probably as good a word as any."
"And this happens, what... tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Whoa..." Riki muttered the second time. "No messing around, huh?"
"Elites are efficient," Katze replied almost absently, staring at the floor in front of him.
Leaning forward a little, bracing his hands on his knees, Riki felt his expression soften as he looked closely at his friend. Katze honestly looked like shit, like he hadn't slept at all.
He looked as worried as hell.
Well, Riki couldn't blame the man for that. He had to admit that if he were in Katze's place right now, he'd be pretty fuckin' nervous, too. But he also knew, taking into account his own experiences with such matters, that he would absolutely take the chance that Katze was being offered; risk of failure and all.
"You know that Raoul will look after you, right?" Riki said quietly, his dark eyes scanning Katze's face. "I mean, seriously, he'd hardly ask you to do this if he didn't think there was a better than average chance of success." He felt his lips twitch wryly. "Let's face it; you and I both know that Elites generally like the odds stacked in their favor before they commit to anything."
Blinking, almost as if rousing himself from some place deep within, Katze rubbed both hands over his drawn and weary face before sighing deeply. His expression seemed somehow reluctant as he turned towards Riki. "The truth is... it's not actually the failure of the procedure that's worrying me."
Riki shot him an odd look. "You're afraid that it might work?" His tone was laden with disbelief.
"It's hard to explain, Riki," Katze sighed, a frustrated grimace crossing his face, "But I've been like this..." he made a vague gesture down at himself, "for years now. I guess that I'm... I'm used to it, do you understand? It's what I am. It's what I became by choice, Riki. I turned my back on that other life, that other world, because it was no damned good for me. I had brains, and I wanted a chance to fuckin' use them, and now..." he lifted his hands helplessly. "I know that I want to do this. I know that. But part of me is asking – what the hell is the cost going to be? I mean, am I even going to be the same person when it's over and done with?"
"C'mon, man," Riki's eyes narrowed slightly. "You can't define yourself just by your position, for God's sake. A position that you don't actually have anymore, can I just add? A Furniture was never what you were, it was what you did. That's all."
"You're being overly simplistic, Riki," Katze shot back flatly.
"No, I'm not," Riki's eyes flashed for a moment before he pulled in a deep breath, composing himself. "Listen... the person that you are, Katze, right now at this point in time, that's not going to change."
"You think?"
"Why the hell would it?" Riki reached across and closed one hand over Katze's forearm, squeezing gently. "You'll still be you - the 'you' that is defined by experience and age and a million other factors. You're still gonna be a complete freak when it comes to computer technology. You're still gonna be making the Ceres market sit up and sing to your tune." He grinned suddenly. "You're still gonna have no fuckin' respect when it come to quality hover-bikes..."
Almost as if unable to help it, Katze snorted softly with amusement before sobering again. "In a way, I'm actually relieved that it's all going to happen this fast."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. It'll stop me from over-thinking it," Katze shrugged and shook his head, "...talking myself out of it."
"You'd really do that?"
"God, I don't know." Katze rubbed his face once more. "Look, can we go outside? I need a cigarette."
"I'm not surprised." Leading Katze out to the balcony, Riki spent a couple of moments reviewing all that Katze had just told him. He couldn't deny the very idea that his friend might choose not to go through with this just seemed so utterly incomprehensible to him. He frowned slightly as he hitched himself up onto the sun-warmed balcony wall, watching as Katze lit his cigarette and considering that last thought.
The more he thought about it, the less fair to Katze it seemed he was being.
He was looking at the whole issue, understandably he supposed, from his own point of view rather than the ex-Furniture's. Certainly, when Riki thought back through his own personal history to the awful moment when he had awakened after Guy had castrated him, he still felt a deeply intimate sense of horror. To him, the loss of such a fundamental part of his physical make-up would now be nothing short of devastating. Admittedly, his sexuality was only one element of the vast emotional and physical connection that he had with Iason Mink, but it was still an important part.
But, once again, therein lay the honest difference between him and Katze in this situation.
Katze had chosen to be modified for reasons of his own. Riki had not.
Biting his lower lip for a moment, Riki looked at the red-head. Katze was standing silent and drawn in on himself, his shoulders rigid and hunched as he stared blankly out over the city and delicate wreaths of smoke drifted around him in the soft breeze.
"Katze?" Riki's spoke softly.
The ex-Furniture's eyes, golden in the sunlight, flicked towards him.
Riki set his jaw and nodded firmly. "Listen, you know that whatever happens you'll have mine and Iason's support, don't you? I mean, I hope you know that. Whether you go through with it or not, whether it works or it doesn't... we'll still be here, okay?"
Katze stared at him for a long moment, an odd expression crossing his face. "That's what Raoul said," he murmured at length.
"Huh?"
"Before he left my apartment yesterday," Katze leaned against the balcony wall, his expression deeply thoughtful. "He said almost exactly the same thing."
"Wow," Riki said softly. He tilted his head slightly, regarding Katze's faintly perplexed frown. "So it is more than friendship."
Katze shrugged one shoulder, then nodded shortly.
Riki grinned knowingly at him. "Confused as hell?" he asked.
Katze nodded again, pitching his finished cigarette over the edge of the balcony.
"Yeah," Riki leaned back, bracing himself on his hands again as he got more comfortable, "Blondies'll do that to you."
He heard Katze's deep sigh as the ex-Furniture dropped his head forward, staring at his hands where he had rested them on the balcony wall. "Story of my fuckin' life," he muttered almost resentfully.
Riki hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was even going to be wise to voice his next question. He wasn't entirely sure why the thought had actually occurred to him. But it seemed important somehow, even relevant. "Hey, Katze?"
The red-head glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.
"Look, don't take this the wrong way or anything, okay?" Riki began, his feeling of awkwardness rising slightly, "and, y'know, don't take it to mean that I'm angry or maybe 'not over it', or whatever – because I've actually always understood..."
Katze's sudden change of expression spoke volumes. "Riki, just say it."
Riki leaned forward, and when he spoke his question was curiously matter of fact. "You're not in love with Iason anymore, are you?"
Katze froze. It was no ordinary pause either, Riki noted absently. It was a complete and utter absence of movement. Even Katze's breathing appeared to have stopped. His face, never the most robust of coloring at the best of times, whitened completely and something very close to shock filled his eyes.
"You knew," Katze said flatly, his voice hoarse and strained.
"Yeah." Riki ran one hand through his tousled hair and sighed softly. "I guess I'd seen the signs all along. I just didn't figure out what they meant until later."
"Fuck," Katze whispered bitterly, turning his face away and staring out across the city. "Did Iason know?"
For a second, considering the depths of Katze's upset, Riki was tempted to lie. But in the end, knowing how much it mattered, he just couldn't do it. "Yeah," he answered softly, wincing at the visible tension that gripped Katze's shoulders. "He never actually said so to me but, yeah, he knew."
"I'm sorry." Katze shook his head slowly, his eyes still locked on the distant horizon.
Grimacing, Riki lifted his hands in a vaguely frustrated gesture. "God, Katze, don't be sorry about it. It's not like you did anything wrong."
The ex-Furniture remained stony-faced and silent for a long moment before, astonishingly, a tiny rueful chuckle made it way from his throat. He turned to face Riki once more, his expression an odd mixture of ancient hurt and wry humor. "Even I would have to appreciate the irony of the whole thing Riki."
Puzzled, Riki stared at him.
Obviously seeing his expression, Katze shrugged slightly. "No," he said then, his voice firm and certain.
"Huh?"
"The answer to your question," Katze clarified, lighting another cigarette, before offering the packet to Riki. "Am I still in love with him? The answer is 'no'. I was, for longer than I really care to recall... Now I'm not."
Riki blinked, and then stared hard at his friend's face, meeting a clear and steady gaze that hid nothing at all. It was very apparent to him that Katze was absolutely telling the truth.
He had moved on.
"So..." Riki asked rather thoughtfully as he took a cigarette from the packet. "When did you actually figure that out?"
"Truthfully?" Katze leaned across and lit it for him, "Just right now."
Riki snorted gracelessly with amusement. "Shit," he muttered, amiably enough. "Iason is right. Mongrels are fuckin' strange creatures, aren't they?"
"Oh yeah."
Leaning back, bracing himself on his hands once more, Riki stretched his legs out and grinned at Katze as the red-head leaned against the balcony wall, looking more settled and at ease in this moment than he had since he'd first walked into the penthouse. "So, you're gonna take your place on trial, then?"
Katze nodded slowly. "I am, yes."
"Cool." Riki drew in a soothing lungful of sweet scented smoke. "Well... I'll be checking in on you, if you don't mind."
"I don't."
Katze held his eyes for a moment, a wealth of silent communication flowing back and forth between them, acknowledgment and understanding... the truth of their shared history. It struck Riki, in that moment, just how fortunate he was to have been able to come to know this man, to call him his friend.
"Everything is going to be okay," Riki said seriously, then. "However it turns out."
Katze smiled at him. Just slightly but it was there. "You know, Riki, I actually think you're right."
Seated behind his desk in Jupiter Tower, Iason smiled pleasantly as the familiar features of his friend, Chey Neeson, appeared on the video-uplink monitor in front of him. "Chey," he greeted the federation politician with a warm nod. "It is good to hear from you. You are well, I trust?"
"As always, my friend," Chey's image, slightly grainy due to interstellar interference, smiled back at him.
"I am assuming you have some news for me." Iason grew more serious, leaning forwards to meet Chey's shrewd gaze via the monitor.
"I do indeed," Chey replied, equally soberly. "And it is rather gratifying news at that." The handsome statesman drew in a deep breath. "General Grace's men and the representatives from the department of revenue stumbled across more than just strong hints of illegal activities in United Industries' operations. They found a series of damning databases containing contact lists and the detailed business activities of literally dozens of major clients of the Ceres market." Chey's face broke into a sudden sly grin. "In addition, they have also located a certain young man who was responsible for tracing Riki's access into those databases. Quite by good fortune, I must confess. They came across an anomaly in United's recent employee lists and, happily, they decided to follow it up."
Iason felt a surge of satisfaction flow through him. "Very good," he almost purred. "And was this young man forthcoming with information?"
Chey's rich chuckle came clearly across the vid-link. "Oh yes. He sang like a terrified little bird, I'm pleased to say. For the promise of a little prosecution leniency, he gave us a list of names and descriptions of a group of 'specific' businessmen who were contracted by the board of directors of United Industries itself to facilitate the Company's entrance into the black market."
Nodding, Iason kept his face artfully blank. Much as he liked Chey, and admired his inherent decency, he felt that to share the fact that his own investigators had also located similar information from a different direction, would only be counter-productive. He was perfectly content to let Chey's government deal with the directors of United Industries their way. This was only just and reasonable, after all. But as for that group of 'specific' businessmen? Well... Iason had his own agenda there.
An agenda that he felt certain Chey would be honor-bound to disapprove of.
So... perhaps better just to keep his own council upon that matter.
Besides, in all truthfulness, Chey probably already suspected the reality anyway. The man was no fool, after all.
"The department of revenue has already begun a full audit into United Industries' entire network of business dealings," Chey was continuing. "My government has underwritten the investor's money in order to stabilize the share market; but as of this moment, United's assets are frozen and the current board of directors has been replaced with representatives from the department until further notice."
"I must ask you to express my own appreciation to your government for the speed and efficiency of its investigation, Chey," Iason said, approval in his voice. "I really am most impressed."
Chey's urbane nod of acknowledgment was marred slightly by the notably wicked little smirk on his face. "I rather thought you would be." Chey glanced to one side at someone off-screen, nodding briefly. "Ah... It appears my presence is required, Iason. I apologize for cutting this short."
"I understand, my friend," Iason replied warmly. "Policy precedes, after all."
Chey laughed aloud, good humor in his face. "Oh, I like that one. I think I might have to steal it for my next campaign."
"By all means."
"In all seriousness, Iason, I did just wish to touch base and give you an update," Chey's image met Iason's gaze again. "I shall, of course, let you know how the search for the other leaders of United's ill-fated gambit goes."
"I would appreciate that very much, Chey." Iason smiled slightly. "Until then."
"Take care," Chey said by way of farewell. "Please pass on my regards to Riki, will you?"
"Indeed I shall." Iason replied as Chey nodded and cut the link, the screen fading to black briefly before the Syndicate logo reformed on the terminal screen.
Iason smiled grimly as he pushed back from his desk and rose to his feet, readying himself to leave the office for the day and return home.
By the time Chey's government had followed up their leads on United's group of 'facilitators', Iason was reasonably certain that a specific section of his own security forces, personally led by their grim-faced commander, Mace, would have already followed Iason's orders with their usual efficiency. As much as the federation law enforcement agencies might search and question along this particular trail, they would ultimately discover it lead to nowhere.
The federation would not find any of them. With any luck, they would not even come across as much as a single trace.
There would be nothing left to find.
Not even the bodies.
To thine own self – chapter 12 << >> To thine own self – chapter 14