Walk forward, into the world
by Ainzfern
4
Raoul Am was worried. Deeply, and on a disturbingly personal level.
As he sat to one side of his oldest and dearest Elite friend, Iason Mink, enduring the traditional pleasantries that would precede the negotiations between the head of the Tanagura Syndicate and the federation government representative, Chey Neeson; Raoul outwardly mouthed meaningless platitudes and responded to the usual light sallies while, in the private recesses of his formidable mind, he bent his thoughts to the troubling matter of Iason.
More precisely, the troubling matter of Iason's recent behavior.
At first, the changes were small. So much so that Raoul had little trouble in dismissing his concerns as a mere lingering aftereffect of the near death of his friend. But, as the days passed, Raoul began to realize that something was not quite right.
The official line was that Iason's disappearance over three months ago was due to a secret secondment to a special mission for Jupiter. Of course, no one really believed it, but it was a lie they were comfortable with. The fact that he had returned, smoothly retaking over his rightful role and displaying all the formidable strength and cunning that he'd always had, made it much easier for his Syndicate peers to adjust.
But, outside of the political field, Iason Mink had grown cold. Always magnificently aloof, he now seemed to be almost a parody of his old self. An Elite far colder and distant from others than he had ever been, even before his unfortunate and uncharacteristic tryst with the young mongrel from the slums.
He had sold off his remaining Pet, which no-one could deny was his right, but... then he had not replaced it. In fact, he showed no interest in the usual pastimes of the Tanagura Elite at all anymore. No Pet parties, no auctions, even the endless banquet of sensual delights in Eos' central district were devoid of Iason Mink's presence.
And then, of course, there was the strange business of Iason's Furniture, Dane.
At first, the notion that Dane was purchased to serve solely as a housekeeper had amused Raoul. A Furniture that was not allowed to attend to his master's physical appearance..? He had found the thought of it quite droll.
But now... in hindsight, Raoul couldn't help but feel that there was something almost sinister about that too.
Raoul saw him regularly enough, he supposed, but their conversations these days seemed limited to Syndicate business. To his credit, Raoul had tried, even offering to acquire some trial samples of the latest batch of Pets from the Academy on Iason's behalf.
To say the least, Iason's lack of enthusiasm regarding that idea had been almost aggressive.
Raoul was finding more and more that he no longer knew how to reach his old friend.
And, if he were to be honest with himself, he missed him. Even the Iason Mink that had suffered so much indignity over his obsession with the mongrel would have been preferable to the man he was right now.
And the final worry that drifted through Raoul's mind, perhaps even the most concerning one, was the nature of Iason's communions with Jupiter...
He was going to have to speak up about it.
And soon.
Bringing his attention back to the now, Raoul focused more fully on the by-play around him. He noted the slight change in Iason's expression, the glint of genuine pleasure and enthusiasm in his pale eyes as the pleasantries concluded and the two players in this delicate dance took their designated seats together.
Ah... Raoul sat forward slightly, the old familiar gratification in this moment beginning to rise. This was the part that he had always enjoyed the most, seeing his friend doing what he was born to do.
Deal. And deal damned hard.
And, it seemed that it was only in the service of Amoi these days, where Raoul got to see the truly passionate echoes of the man Iason had once been. Even though he was still concerned on many levels about Iason's recent behavior outside of the political playing field, he could not deny that he was glad that this, at least, was as uncompromising as ever.
"So you are actually prepared to talk prices at this juncture, your Excellency?" Neeson was asking, his eyes never leaving Iason's gaze for a moment, his expression calm and carefully composed.
Yes, Raoul could see that the man was good. But Iason, as Neeson was about to learn, was much, much better.
"Indeed I am, Mr. Neeson," Iason's rich mouth curved slightly, although the smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Amoi is an energy hungry society, as I have no doubt you have already observed."
Neeson nodded slowly.
"The federation government's most recent timely claim on the raw fuel deposits on Hepstra could serve to be most profitable for both sides of this negotiation." Iason tapped one long finger against the arm of his chair for a moment as he fell silent, awaiting Neeson's reply.
Straightening up slightly, Neeson smiled. "I have been authorized to offer the price of forty per barrel, your Excellency, but perhaps I can offer a certain flexibility on that now that I have come to see you as an honorable opponent- -"
"Thirty-five for the high-grade, twenty for standard and ten per barrel on the unprocessed." Languidly, Iason reached for the glass of water set beside his chair and waited.
Neeson's eyes widened. Watching closely from the sidelines, Raoul carefully smothered a chuckle as the profoundly shocked silence stretched out.
At last Neeson shook his head. "Would the sponsor of Partia see the federation government bankrupted?" he asked pointedly.
"No, he wouldn't," Iason's slight smile grew even colder. "Which is why he is actually offering three points above your true reserve price."
Neeson blinked, no longer even attempting to maintain the pose of indifference. "You've done your research well, it would seem."
Once again, Iason simply waited.
"Give me twenty-five on the standard from the primary mine and I will consider the scale pricing," Neeson continued, his tone firm.
"Twenty, I must insist," Iason set his glass back down. "You haven't even begun to reach the full depth of those deposits. Plus, I must confess that I believe your initial forecasts on the high-grade fields are, at best, excessively optimistic."
"The delegates from the united industries would offer at least twenty-five, your Excellency," Neeson's tone was slightly reproachful.
At that point, hearing that tone, Raoul knew that Chey Neeson had just lost the race.
"This is true, Mr. Neeson," Iason replied smoothly. "But the united industries delegates are not sitting in front of you now. I am."
"Indeed you are," Neeson murmured, almost to himself, before sitting back in his chair. "I am afraid that I may be coming very close to exceeding the authority my government has granted me. If I may beg your indulgence, I would like to contact the senate for further instruction."
Inclining his head graciously, Iason lifted one broad shoulder. "Of course, Mr. Neeson. Shall we reconvene later this evening?"
"I believe that would be acceptable."
"Very well, then." Iason gave a final nod of agreement, signaling that the parley, at least for now, was at a close.
The tension abruptly dissipated when Chey Neeson suddenly chuckled aloud, his entire manner visibly relaxing. "Well... I was warned," he remarked in a tone laden with irony. "It would seem that I have more than met my match in this particular arena."
"You flatter me, Chey," Iason replied, falling back into a more casual manner.
Neeson waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense." He grinned ruefully. "You'll probably get what you want, you know."
"I usually do."
"Hmm." Neeson rose to his feet and extended his hand, smiling again when Iason also stood and clasped it firmly. "I am beginning to understand why."
"You will contact my office once you are ready to conclude?" Iason asked as he released Neeson's hand.
"I will." With that, he nodded his farewell to both Iason and Raoul before turning away, gesturing to his small entourage of officials who followed him quietly from the conference room.
Raoul turned from the doorway, smiling slightly as he heard Iason's soft snort of amusement. "You rather like him, don't you?" he asked his friend knowingly.
Pale eyes met his own gaze. "I do," Iason reached down to the negotiating table, picking up his research file and flicking thoughtfully through it. "He's honest – which makes a pleasant change from the previous delegates the federation government kept insisting on sending us."
"True." Leaning one lean hip against the table, Raoul regarded Iason with interest. "So... how high are you really willing to go?"
Tucking the folder under his arm, Iason shrugged. "I'll give him another two points on the reserve if I must." His flawless face grew artfully bland. "Of course... he'll have to ask for it."
"You're a sly son of a bitch."
Iason huffed a soft chuckle. "I've been called much worse, Raoul."
"Oh, I know. Quite often by me, if I recall correctly." Encouraged by the genuine light of warmth in Iason's eyes, by the familiar flash of the old Iason that Raoul had lost sight of in recent weeks, he decided to chance an overture.
Perhaps, he reasoned to himself, Iason had not changed as much as he imagined. "Well, it could be some time before our Mr. Neeson contacts you again... why don't you join me for a few hours in Eos central? A light meal? A pleasant diversion, or two?"
"I'm afraid I can't." To Raoul's disappointment Iason's demeanor once more became brusque and distant as he moved towards the door. "I have an appointment with Jupiter already in place."
"Ah yes. Again." Raoul watched, his eyes narrowing as Iason paused in the doorway. "Is there something amiss, Iason?" he asked suddenly, needing to voice his formerly unspoken concerns. "Some reason for the fact that you apparently need to commune with Jupiter every single day?" He lifted his hands in a futile gesture. "Even as head of the Syndicate, you only ever used to enter her sanctum when you required her guidance... but now?"
Slowly, Iason turned back to him, his eyes flat with something that looked very much like hostility, for all that his face was composed. "Are you questioning her right to demand my attendance, Raoul?"
"No." Raoul stepped towards him, his chin set stubbornly. "But I am concerned about the effect all of this is having on you. You're different, Iason..."
"I am not."
"You are." Raoul shook his head, his frustration rising. "Tell me, please. You know that I will listen. I always have, haven't I?"
Iason held his gaze steadily. "There is nothing to tell. She simply wants to be fully kept informed of my progress as I resume my duties."
Venting a deep sigh, Raoul felt his mouth twist bitterly. "I really would have thought, Iason, that once the mongrel was gone you might have ceased lying to me."
Even as the words left his mouth, Raoul saw the sudden blaze of pure rage flash into Iason's eyes, but he held his ground, facing down his furious friend. A moment of absolute silence passed before, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the anger in Iason's face drained away, replaced once again, by a carefully constructed mask of detachment.
"I think, Raoul," Iason told him, almost thoughtfully, "that it would be best for both of us, if you were never to mention Riki again in my presence."
"Iason..."
"No." Iason deliberately turned his back on his friend, stepping out through the doorway of the conference room. "No, Raoul. This conversation is over."
Raoul stood for a long time once Iason's footsteps had faded away down the corridor, staring at the floor with a deeply preoccupied frown on his normally smooth brow. It seemed somehow that, despite all the good intentions in the world, he had managed to sink himself more deeply into the mire than he would have imagined. Thus far, from all outward observations, Jupiter seemed content enough to let things rest as they were. Raoul surmised that, as long as Iason remained ignorant of the fact that Riki was alive, she would have no reason to act against him.
But, if Raoul were to tell Iason the truth, and if Jupiter were to subsequently pick that truth out of his mind, then...
Well, the possible consequences didn't bear thinking about.
Nevertheless, Raoul wished that he could simply say it. Simply speak the secret and wash his hands of it once and for all.
Because then, he reasoned as he slowly made his own way out of the empty conference room, he might stop feeling like the appalling hypocrite that he so very clearly was.
5
"Here."
The clatter of the heavy item landing on Riki's desk right beside his terminal startled him deeply and he cursed, swiping away the small splash of coffee he'd slopped beside the keyboard and glaring up at Katze, who was grinning smugly and standing right beside him.
"Did you have to do that?"
Katze removed the smoldering cigarette from his mouth and blew a stream of sweet-scented smoke across the top of Riki's head. "Not really, but then it's amazing the things an ex-Furniture will do for a laugh."
"Funny." Riki deadpanned. His brow creased curiously as he picked up the object Katze had just thrown down. It was a man's silver bracelet; the heavy yet elegantly cast links glinting in the light filtering through Riki's bedroom window. Holding it up to Katze he arched a brow at him. "What's this for?"
Katze sat down on the end of Riki's bed, looking at him in a mildly amused manner. "Well, where I come from, we call it a gratuity."
"Katze," Riki rolled his eyes and dropped the bracelet back onto the desk-top, swiveling his chair around to fully face his boss. "You came out of the slums, just like I did and I'm telling you, man, no-one there uses that word."
Sighing with mock-sufferance Katze frowned at him. "It's a gift, Riki," he explained pointedly, "I little acknowledgment for a job well done." He smiled, genuine approval lighting his eyes. "The crack job you did on the federation up-link that I passed to you last week was good work. I was very pleased with the outcome."
Riki snorted and drained the remaining half of his semi warm coffee, wrinkling his nose slightly at the tepid taste of it. "You mean the Elites who used the information in the up-link to batter down their trade opponents were very pleased with the outcome," he corrected wryly.
"Well," Katze leaned back on his hands, grinning smugly. "As we say in the business, my luck is your luck, Riki."
Setting his coffee cup down, Riki picked up the bracelet and examined it again. "It's nice, thanks."
"So you like it?"
"I guess." Shrugging in a non-committal way, Riki winked at him. "I would've preferred the keys to a new hover-bike, but..."
Katze snorted gracelessly. "I think you'd have to crack something a little larger if you want a 'thank you' that big."
"Like what?"
"Jupiter Tower, perhaps?" Katze's reply was blandly smug.
"Fuck off," Riki told him amiably, slipping the bracelet onto his wrist and securing the clasp. He looked up again, his smile almost shy. "Seriously, I like it."
"Good."
"And I deserve it, man" Riki's rakish grin returned, "That was one hell of a boring subject I had to crack into."
"Oh, I don't know," Katze examined his fingernails for a moment. "There are some people who would say that reserve pricings on raw fuel deposits are just full of quiet interest."
"Yeah. Well, I never want to meet 'em."
"Trust me," Katze murmured, his eyes shifting to look out the window. "That will never be an issue for you." He frowned then, his mouth turning down at the corners.
"What? What is it?" Caught by the change, Riki got to his feet and approached the window. As he looked out he felt the same slow wave of helpless anger roil through his guts again. "Damn it," he sighed softly, his eyes staring fixedly at the wretched tableau in the square outside the safe-house's outer walls. "They got another one."
"Hmm." Peripherally, Riki saw Katze joining him at the window, heard the click of his lighter as he lit his next cigarette. "We're close to the edge of Midas here, you see," he murmured. "It happens fairly regularly, I'm afraid."
"So I've come to realize," Riki replied in a dull hurt voice.
In the square just beyond the wall, a group of slum thugs had gathered around a slender solitary young man, their predatory intent visible even at this distance. The young man was crouched against the side of a building, attempting to shield himself from the barrage of kicks and blows the gang was raining down on him.
It was very clear to Riki that the young victim was an ex-Pet.
Just like all the rest he had seen fall to the same cruel fate over the weeks he had been living here.
"It's not fair, Katze," Riki muttered, watching as the group moved on, leaving the broken and bloody corpse crumpled against the wall like so much garbage. "All they're trying to do is escape the whore-pits of Midas."
"You cannot get involved, Riki," Katze's tone was deadly serious. "You cannot do anything that might bring the wrong sort of attention to the business that we run here."
"I know." Riki sighed again, not at all surprised to note that his hands were tightly clenched. "I just wish we could."
"Riki..."
"Just something, y'know?" Riki shook his head. "A safe haven. A place to hide, where they could have some protection. We could do it, Katze."
With a low growl, Katze grabbed Riki's arm, jerking him roughly around to face him. "Put the notion out of your head, kid," he hissed, his eyes flashing sudden anger. "You are talking about the kind of foolish pseudo-revolutionary act that would do nothing but bring the full force of the Elite law officials down on you!"
"What?" Riki wrenched his arm free, stepping back and glaring at the ex-Furniture. "All I'm a talking about is- -"
"It won't work!" Katze moved forward into his space once more. "No one wants them, Riki. The Elite don't want them because they aren't kids anymore. Midas doesn't want them because they are a living reminder of the average citizen's true ugliness of soul, and the slums of Ceres won't help them because even the lowly need to feel superior to someone."
"Fuck it all, Katze!" Riki shouted, pointing wildly at the window. "That could've been me! Do you get that? It could have been me!"
He broke off, trembling, his chest heaving in great sharp pants.
Slowly, Katze approached him, gripping both his shoulders in a firm but gentle hold and looking at him with deep compassion on his scarred face. "Do you think I don't know that?"
"Katze..." Riki choked on the word, swallowing hard. He pushed away again and sat back at his desk, roughly swiping the back of his hand across his glistening eyes to clear them.
"Do you think I don't hear what you suffer in the night, Riki?" Katze asked in that same gentle tone.
Startled, Riki stared up at him.
"You know that I have a secondary link to my office here, don't you? Just two doors down from this room?" Katze smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Every night that I come to work here instead of travelling to my apartment, I hear you."
Riki broke his gaze, averting his eyes to the floor.
"Every night that I am here, Riki," Katze continued implacably.
"I don't..."
"Are you dreaming of him? Still? Even after all this time?"
Jerking his head up, Riki snarled at him. "No," he literally spat the words out. "I don't dream of him. He's dead. There's nothing to dream of there. There never was."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"Shit, Katze," Riki threw his hands up in a frustrated gesture, "Think about it for a second, would you? I was castrated, poisoned and blown up, all in one fuckin' day! Don't you think that entitles me to wake up screaming every now and then?!"
Once more sitting down slowly on the edge of Riki's bed, Katze looked at him with an almost apologetic expression. "You don't wake up screaming, Riki," he said softly. "You wake up sobbing."
Riki felt his face blanch, the words bulleting through his head like a strike of lightening. He froze, his eyes widening and staring at nothing, his breath stilling in his throat.
For a moment, there was no sound at all then...
"Get out," Riki whispered.
"No."
"Get the fuck out, Katze," Riki whispered again, his hands clenching once more, white knuckled and shaking.
"No." Undaunted, Katze simply continued to stare at him. "I need you to tell me the truth, Riki."
Painfully, Riki closed his eyes, his mind whirling with thoughts both confusing and contradictory. He felt sick. Tired. All he really knew for sure right now was that he didn't want to have this conversation.
There was only so much probing a raw wound could take.
"The truth about what?" he asked through his suddenly clenched jaw.
"Did you love him?"
Heaving a great sigh, Riki let his head drop forward. "Katze, there's no fuckin' point in answering that question now," he said tightly. "Iason is dead, okay? What I feel, or felt, or didn't feel... It doesn't matter anymore."
"It matters, Riki," Katze replied, the intensity in his voice equaling Riki's own. "You may not understand it, but it matters. Please... tell me."
Looking up at him once more, Riki grew still, shocked at the depth of feeling reflecting back at him from the ex-Furniture's eyes. In that single moment, he saw Katze's own pain, as real as his own, and he wet his lips and nodded, reluctantly, but nevertheless a confirmation.
"Yes," he murmured on a mere breath of sound. "Yes, Katze. I loved him."
Katze closed his eyes for a moment, the tension leaving his shoulders. "He loved you too, you know."
"I know," Riki sat back again. "I didn't get that at first but, I saw it... just before the end. In his eyes."
"Well, you got to keep that much, at least." Rising to his feet, Katze turned to leave.
"Hey!" Setting his jaw, Riki waited until Katze turned back to face him. "That tank that Raoul Am put me in...? The one that healed me?"
"Yes?" Katze frowned slightly.
"Did it occur to you to ask that Blondie to shove you in it for a while?" Riki felt his eyes narrowing, his anger seeping back in through the cracks of his pain. "Y'know, maybe grow back a couple of things you lost a while back?"
Katze's face paled. "You little bastard," his hissed softly.
"Oh c'mon, boss," Riki's mouth twisted. "Fair's fair. You got me to answer a couple of questions that I didn't want to... so you get to do the same."
Pulling in a deep breath, his nostrils white and pinched with anger, Katze shook his head shortly. "No, I did not ask."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't care to experience the way it would feel when I was told no."
Nodding, Riki pressed his lips tightly acknowledging the truth in Katze harsh expression. "Hurts, doesn't it?" he asked quietly, his own expression softening once more.
For a moment Katze just stared at him then, with a tiny grimace, he nodded. "Yes, it does."
"Then we're even."
"I suppose we are." Glancing out the window briefly, Katze drew his shoulders back. "I'll come by tomorrow with your next set of files. Early evening, if that's okay with you."
"It's fine," Riki told him as he turned towards the door. "Oh... and boss?"
"Yes?" Katze didn't turn around, but the tilt of his jaw told him he was listening.
"Have a good night, okay?"
Katze sighed deeply. "You too, Riki," he murmured.
With that said, he left in silence, while Riki turned back to his terminal once more.
6
In the inner sanctum of Jupiter tower, Iason Mink, most favored son of Jupiter herself, once again closed his eyes and opened his mind to her gentle but instant probing. She only spent a moment or two reviewing his most recent progress with the negotiation between Iason and Chey Neeson, projecting her approval with the results thus far, before inevitably turning her attention to a specific course.
A most familiar course, by now.
Although it was a deeply uncomfortable process, he had to admit that it didn't hurt at all and the fact was, discomfort or not, he had done this so many times now that he was actually getting used to it.
He smiled, sensing her amusement with his realization.
And, it was with no small sense of relief that he also sensed an end approaching. He could feel that she was almost finished with her most unanticipated quest. That she almost had the answers she had been seeking. Very soon, he was pleased to understand, she would not need to do this anymore. Very soon, they would be able to return to their usual form of communing, far more comfortable and impersonal but, for now...
"Think of him again," she urged him gently.
Sighing, Iason let his memory throw up image after image. Riki the Dark. Riki the mongrel. Riki his Pet, sweat drenched and aching back with pleasure on Iason's fine sheets. Riki his nemesis, cursing and snarling of his hatred and despair. Riki his beloved, walking back into a rapidly crumbling building, his steps slow with agony, to see out his last moments at Iason's side.
He felt his conscious mind being softly urged back, felt her taking over, the sensation not unlike a finger gliding across the pictures in his head. She was flipping past them now, stopping, seemingly at random, before moving on.
Katze willingly assisting Iason to bring Riki back to him after his year of freedom... Raoul, warning him to watch his back, swearing to him that he would never tamper with his memories... Riki, begging him for Guy's life, for the life of the monstrous animal that had mutilated Riki's body...
His own helpless reaction to that tearful plea.
His death, just for those few terrible moments before Raoul's medical team had revived and stabilized him in the ruins of Dana Bahn. It had been felt – briefly, yet so keenly, by Jupiter. So much so that she had cried out, for the first time in her long existence, from this thing known as pain.
Riki, once more... passing swiftly over his earlier years where Iason had used every trick he could to break his Pet's will, and moving beyond to after his return. She paused, looking deeply into their most intimate moments, concentrating not so much on the searing physical pleasure that Iason experienced when he fucked Riki, but on the things that he felt inside of himself. The intense gratification, the joy, he experienced when Riki reached the exquisiteness of orgasm because of Iason's touch. The powerful, unbreakable feeling of protectiveness that rose up within him when he held Riki's vulnerable sleeping form close to him in the night. The sharp burst of rare bright pleasure he got from seeing Riki's face light up when something pleased or amused him.
The fact that he could look at this half-wild mongrel and find him beautiful, not because he was perfect or designed to please, but just because he was Riki...
"I understand," Jupiter told him, her voice warm with affection. "I must forgive you."
He felt a surge of gratitude.
"I must allow you... or I fear all my Elite will fade and perish."
Confused, Iason frowned, even in his half-waking state. He was not sure what she meant, but in the next moment, she made it all clear.
"You may love, Iason Mink. I grant you this gift. You, who are my first and my dearest; you may love."
Sorrow came to him, because he understood the terrible pointlessness of her permission. There was no-one left for him now. The only one he could possibly have wanted to share this with was gone.
He felt her endless compassion, her deep sadness, filling him utterly. And, most unexpected of all, he felt her remorse.
And he felt the very moment when she decided to tell him the truth.
"Riki is not dead, Iason. Riki lives, just as you do."
And, in the next instant, as a dreadful scream of unspeakable rage and anguish beyond enduring echoed through the inner sanctum, Iason was not at all surprised to realize that this inhuman sound was tearing out of his own shuddering chest...
The first thing that Raoul noticed when Dane led him into Iason's penthouse, was how dark it was. Only a single lamp placed in one corner of the main room was lit, casting a small pool of light across the floor and barely illuminating the two figures seated in the centre around the low table.
"Ah, good," Iason's voice greeted him. "You made good time. Please, my friend, come and sit with us."
Perplexed by the oddness of this meeting, Raoul moved towards his usual seat. He glanced at Iason's other guest, recognizing Katze, his face a pale oval in the dim light.
"Iason," he greeted the Elite who sat opposite him, his pale blue eyes the only clearly visible thing in his shadowed face. "May I know what this is all about?"
"I think that you already do, Raoul," Iason replied, his voice soft and steady.
A trickle of unease wandered up Raoul's spine. Glancing at Katze, his eyes narrowing, he tried to read the ex-Furniture's expression. Tried to guess what Iason was alluding to.
"There's no point in looking at him like that," Iason told him, his voice still deathly quiet. "At this moment in time, he knows no more about this than you do."
Stiffening slightly, Raoul shook his head. "Iason..."
"It's funny, don't you think?" Iason leaned sideways slightly, switching on another lamp beside the table, blinking as the brighter light filled their immediate area, "That people are so often prone to making mistaken choices, in the genuine belief that they are, in fact, doing the right thing."
Softly, so softly that Raoul almost missed it; Katze drew his breath in with a sudden gasp.
A certain suspicion began to rise in Raoul's mind. He stared closely at his friend's shuttered expression before looking once more at Katze.
The Furniture's face was a picture of trepidation, his normally pale complexion appearing almost chalky as the blood drained from it. He looked, in all honesty, like a man who was terrified that he was about to be exposed.
Which made no sense. If he didn't tell Iason, then who in the world did?
"You already know what I'm about to say, don't you?" Iason was asking him.
Nodding, Raoul set his jaw and met his friend's eyes. "I believe that I do, Iason."
"Would you care to have the honor?"
Peripherally, he noted Katze turn his head sharply to stare at him. "Very well. If it pleases you to hear it from me," he vented a slow sigh, "Riki is alive."
"Oh, shit." Just upon the cusp of hearing, Raoul noted Katze's soft but fervent curse.
Iason's full mouth twitched, just slightly. "There... was that so difficult to do?"
"Iason, I must know. Who told you this?"
"Jupiter did." Iason smiled coldly, his face composed and calm, only his dangerously glittering eyes displaying the true depths of his anger. "Not more than two hours ago. I suppose I don't have to tell you how fortunate the timing of that was. Has she chosen to tell me yesterday, it might have seriously affected my performance at the negotiation in Partia... and all of your efforts to keep me focused on my service of Amoi would have proved worthless."
Raoul said nothing; his mind was far too full of stunned surprise to even consider voicing a remark.
Jupiter? Jupiter herself had informed Iason of the truth?
Why?
"I am wondering, however," Iason was continuing as he steepled his long fingers under his chin and pursed his mouth thoughtfully, "why, in all the time that I have been back, did neither one of you two do me the courtesy of informing me?"
"It was my decision, Iason," Raoul shared a brief glance with Katze, seeing the Furniture's eyes fill with relief. "I believed that Jupiter would not approve."
"I see."
"I honestly thought your life was at risk."
"Hmm." His cold gaze flicked towards Katze. "And you, Katze? Was that your belief as well?"
Miserably, Katze nodded in silence.
Iason turned his icy gaze back to Raoul, but the words he spoke were clearly directed to both his guests. "Even though Jupiter herself had ordered Riki's treatment?"
All of a sudden Raoul simply felt tired. And relieved, to a certain point, he couldn't deny that. It was over. For good or for ill, it was over. He sighed heavily, his tension draining away as he replied in a tone that was laced with deep weariness. "Iason," he rubbed his eyes briefly with one elegant hand, "Jupiter's perception of the universe is so far beyond me that I could not even imagine being so bold, or foolish, as to attempt to second guess her will. She gave us no other instructions beyond the point that you two were to be healed. I simply did not know if she intended to eventually kill him, or to punish him as an example, or to hold him against you as surety." Raoul sat forward, his eyes beseeching Iason to believe, to understand, "I made the best decision that I could based upon the information I had at the time and, believe me, Iason, at no point did I intentionally act out of any form of malice towards you."
"It's true," Katze added in a low murmur. His gaze was still averted, as if he was still not willing, or even able, to meet his former master's eyes. "We did it to protect you... and him."
"Where is he, Katze?"
Pulling in a shuddering breath, Katze lifted his scarred face. "In a black market safe-house, just outside of Midas."
"You took him back to Ceres?" Iason's voice suddenly dropped to a deathly hiss.
"He's safe. I made sure to place him as far, demographically, as I could, from his former home." Katze lifted both hands rapidly in a placating gesture. "Believe me, Iason... no one from Bison, no one in Ceres, knows that he's there."
Slowly, Iason eased back into his chair. "I see." Then, with a strange little smile flitting across his face, Iason reached down beside the cushion on his chair, retrieving a slender bound document, which he placed on the low table in front of Raoul. "I would like you to have a look at this for me, Raoul, if you would."
Blinking, perplexed by the sudden unexpected turn to the conversation, Raoul closed the fingers of one hand around the spine of the document, lifting it up and scanning the cover notes. "It's draft legislation. Syndicate seal."
"Yes," Iason stroked his chin for a moment, looking intently at Raoul's face. "It pertains to the legalization of 'Companions' as opposed to Pets. It is only a formative idea at the moment but, if passed, it will allow those members of the Elite, who wish to, to upgrade their Pets to the status of a Companion. And, as a Companion, those individuals will be afforded all the same rights as the middle caste citizens of Tanagura. They will no longer be allowed to be sold; they will be allowed to acquire gainful employment, purchase their own assets, and be protected by the laws of Amoi."
Aghast, Raoul dropped the document back onto the table as if it had burned him. "Are you insane?" He demanded, rising to his feet. "What you are suggesting will undermine the very fabric of Amoi civilization!"
In comparison, Iason remained completely unruffled, still seated in that same calm pose. "On the contrary, my friend, I believe that this will actually save it." He glanced briefly at Katze, who had slumped back in his chair in shock, his jaw slack with disbelief. "Right now, Raoul, the Amoi Elite is on the brink of imploding into itself, stagnating through lack of change, unable to grow, or reform, or learn anything new. It is asking for a revolution again, one that Amoi might not be able to survive this time."
"Iason, see reason," Raoul held his hands out. "Jupiter may be prepared to allow you to personally, privately, have what you want, but... I don't see how she would ever agree to this."
"I don't see why not," Iason's small smile never wavered. "It was her idea."
As he gracelessly slumped back into his seat, his legs suddenly too weakened by his astonishment to hold him up anymore, a tiny disconnected part of Raoul had to appreciate the fact that this was the second time in one night where he'd been left too stunned to speak.
"And now, Katze," Iason paused as he retrieved the document and slipped it back down beside him on his chair, frowning slightly when the ex-Furniture did not respond. "Katze..." Iason repeated, his tone sharpening slightly.
Blinking slowly, as if waking from a dream, Katze met his former master's stare with dulled eyes. "Yes?" his voice was shaking slightly, tight and low with obvious pain.
Surprisingly, as Raoul observed them, he saw Iason's expression soften noticeably, a certain light of understanding entering his pale eyes. "Despite what you may believe, I can understand why this might not please you so much," he gestured to the document beside him. "But you have always served me with loyalty, Katze, and you will not be forgotten. Have patience."
Drawing in a deep breath, Katze carefully composed his expression, once more attaining the usual sardonic mask that he wore. "Patience, Iason?" his mouth quirked into a half smile. "That, I can do."
"Good," Iason rose to his feet, his expression hardening once more. "So now, you will drive Raoul and I to your safe-house immediately," he ordered in a tone that brooked no possible refusal. "It is time to finish this charade once and for all."
Walk forward... – chapters 1-3 << >> Walk forward... – chapters 7-8