Perdix's Lament
Jun. 23rd, 2010 05:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jimmyhkim21Title: Perdix's Lament, Part III
Author's Name:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
frostian
Artist's Name:3whiteroses
Genre: RPS, AU
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Main character deaths
Summary: Humanity is at the brink of war as the relationship between the two major ruling parties disintegrate under bloody assassinations and accusations. Representatives from both sides, desperate in the hopes of avoiding annihilation, meet in secret, trying to stave off a conflagration that would set back humanity into the days before space travel. But neither party knows that there's a third group keen to see war explode across all systems. (Conclusion to Three Grams.)
Disclaimer: Brought to you live from Fiction Nation!
Dunrea sighed as he read Jeff’s report. “So, we have settlers, mercenaries, and self-professed lunatics composing their security team?”
“From what I gathered, Governor Murray personally hired this particular bunch of beauties,” Jeff added with a slight upturn on his lips.
“That does little to comfort me,” Dunrea said. “But that also means this group is capable of doing what’s necessary. As you well know, being mercenaries don’t make them foolish or gullible.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Jeff agreed readily. “And I’ve already asked my sources about Hartley's unit. Nobody seems to know anything, which makes me wonder what missions they'd accomplished in order to get Murray’s attention."
“You’re thinking it’s something below the law?”
“Oh, I think that’s a given,” Jeff said. "I'll just have to dig some more. Something's bound to come up."
Dunrea watched Jeff leave the room, already barking out the commands necessary to implement his safety protocols. Suddenly, the retired general felt a great rush of fondness for the man.
It was nothing short of miraculous luck that got Jeff Morgan back into his life. After discovering the whereabouts of his ex-sergeant, Dunrea made contact with the renegade soldier who agreed to a meeting. The Senator was on his way to their rendezvous point when his ship was hijacked by pirates who blew apart Dunrea’s security escorts with ease. The senator was resigned to being ransomed when Winchester decloaked and entered the fray.
Dunrea was shocked to hear his old sergeant’s voice come through the comm, but not as surprised as the three hijackers who were doomed the moment they raised their guns at Jeff.
The rescue was as fast as the hijacking, and Dunrea was actually glad it happened. After talking with Jeff, Dunrea realized the man was drifting further into the darker recesses of the mercenary world. Knowing what happened to people who practiced the bloodier aspects of the trade, Dunrea offered Morgan a job as a member of his security team.
Jeff only accepted after Dunrea confided in him about the paucity of trustworthy personnel in his entourage, and when the senator gave him a written contract allowing him to bring on his two-person crew.
Luckily, Kane and Carlson managed to blend in with the rest of the Dunrea’s Praetorian Guards in spite of their outrageous antics. And even with his prolonged detour to the private sector, Jeff’s talent as a leader became obvious to all the men already assigned to Dunrea. So, it didn’t take long for Jeff to earn the position of lieutenant. And, if any of the original personnel had problems with that, they were silenced quickly enough so that Dunrea didn’t have to concern himself with the problem of promoting Jeff to head position.
He often wondered if it was Kane or Carlson who did the blood work silencing Jeff’s detractors and thus guaranteeing cooperation from everyone else.
Dunrea sat down on his bed, suddenly feeling his age. His shoulders throbbed with pain as the tension of the days ahead suddenly overwhelmed him.
I am too old to be a senator. And I am definitely too old for this! I should’ve retired before Noah took the throne and drove us all into the brink of war.
The sarcastic look on Dunrea’s face turned into a grimace.
We’d already be at war if I weren’t able to corral those cowardly bastards who’d do nothing save for wringing their hands while sending other parents’ children to fight and die.
Dunrea wondered if he had any right to be angry by that particular outrage anymore. As a terrain general in the last Conflict he’d sent over three million infantry men and women to their deaths, and he’d probably known outright that nearly half would not make it back alive.
What happened to that man? What happened to that soul-fire who swore he would get justice for the dead and those left behind grieving?
The answer was simple: that man compromised.
And it was humiliating to note it wasn’t long before he’d gotten comfortable with the perks, the fast shuttles, and the vast amount of funds thrown his way. He’d used much of it to help the soldiers who survived the war, and their families who needed extra income to sustain them while the soldiers recovered and found professions willing to accommodate them and their newly-developed ‘quirks’.
That’s not an excuse, Dunrea admitted to himself. After this debacle has ended, I will retire. That is if I’m still alive. And there’s anything to retire to.
Justin Hartley loved to take his time. Everyone who knew him believed the exact opposite when he made a livelihood by going at speeds hard to comprehend for an educated layman.
But the truth was just the opposite.
He loved to walk, to swim lazily about whenever the rare occasion presented itself. To play with his daughter while she crawled on the floor, looking for something to amuse her and her father.
Nevertheless, what Justin did best was going at speeds that would wreck the human bone structure. He was one of the few who could function while diving from free space into gravity zones. Most humans became disoriented then mentally collapse and end up as a grim warning on whatever surface they manage to crash onto, but Justin was capable of performing multiple tasks while burning through the sky like a comet.
Justin was also damn lucky. He always managed to end up landing on a surface best suited to his needs. And this luck wasn’t relegated just to his diving skills either.
Even after being banned from having children by the Population Board, Justin and his wife, Lindsay, went ahead and Isabella was born. To their boundless joy and relief, their daughter was perfectly healthy. However, the parents ended up needing a lot of money to buy off silence from people who could report them, which would result in the removal Isabella because she wasn’t PBE-approved.
Justin had heard stories about the farms where they imprisoned children like Isabella. And how they were conditioned to think of themselves not as human beings but as half-breeds.
The father doubted such a place existed, as it would be impossible for anyone to hide such a hideous secret for long. But Justin couldn’t risk it. He loved his daughter and would sacrifice anything to keep his family safe. So, his love of steadiness, of enjoying the preciousness of time, was sacrificed.
His reputation made it easy for Justin to get assignments. And the pay was good, especially when he did dirty work for the nobles. But, when Governor Murray approached him with this particular detail, Justin was ready to do it for free. He’d admired the Padalecki clan and the numerous sacrifices they made as they created a better world for the mining planets. And the fact that Jared Padalecki had the courage to declare his affection for his non-human consort made it much easier for Justin to continue his adoration of the brilliant family.
Then the bombing happened, shattering his world just like the many millions who watched with incredulous horror as the news reported the deaths of Dr. and Professor Padalecki. When the baying for blood began echoing in his home-planet, Justin roared. So, Murray’s offer was too good to pass up. Protect Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles. Then, if there was a chance, find the people responsible for the killings and introduce them to free-fall: without suits, without helmets.
And watch them burn the sky.
Jeff watched Jensen move about the kitchen, quietly ordering the cooks to prepare the meal in ways both the Senators and his team preferred. He was amazed at how adept the hybrid child had become: to not foster distrust all the while ensuring that the numerous dietary wishes were carried out.
Jeff thought most humans wouldn’t like to be ordered by a hybrid, but he had underestimated the service personnel. They had been long trained to meet the needs of their masters, and if that included listening to the advice of a non-human, then they’d do it without question and without much complaint.
A serving maid blushed prettily when Jensen leaned over to correct her handling of a dish Jeff couldn’t even identify. He noticed the hybrid’s effect on the women seemed to be one of erotic nature, while the men seemed honestly confused. Jeff could understand that: most male hybrids owned by men were effete in both looks and manner.
Jensen was not.
He was beautiful, but nobody with working vision could mistake him for a woman. And his physical grace was masculine in both movement and speed.
“Is there something you needed?” Jensen asked him.
Jeff realized he’d been caught openly staring. “No, I think not.”
“Then, please tell the guests dinner is ready.”
“I will.”
Jeff exited the kitchen quickly, not caring if his hurried steps were amusing the service personnel.
Dunrea was talking animatedly with Jared, which seemed to encourage the rest of the summit attendees to at least be civil to each other.
Dunrea with Nora were the leading representatives of the Senate and the Central Planets. With them were Miriam Didier and Henry Deol. Henry had been the Chief of Medicine until Noah replaced him with Toby Gifu, a hardliner with a well-known disdain for medical academies not incorporated within the Central Planets. It had been Jeff’s great pleasure to personally escort Gifu out of his office the day after Noah was declared deceased.
Miriam Didier was a mystery. He knew she came from Dunrea’s home-planet and remained there after she’d finished her studies in spite of lucrative offers from companies from other systems. Her specialty was in media relations, and she’d been known to manipulate whomever she’d chosen with considerable skill.
With Padalecki and Ackles were Kristin Kreuk and Robert Pangborn, both of whom were from the medical field. Jeff had an inside tip that Kristin’s parents were assigned to Heben, the medical facility that handled most of the wounded colonial soldiers in the Conflict. Jeff had been to Heben many times, but he’d never met Kreuk’s parents. However, the facility was huge, spread over ten klicks, with multiple underground tunnels and hidden bunkers in case of surprise attacks or carpet bombings. At its busiest, Heben treated no less than three thousand soldiers. Their success rate was nearly eighty percent, higher than any field hospital sponsored by the Central Planets.
Jeff studied Kreuk and noticed how deftly she handled her cutting tools. And her mannerism wasn’t purely medical, either. In fact, he’d recognized it as Specnaz Method: a very brutal but effective way of slicing down your opponent moments after engaging him. Unfortunately, the style was rather useless if you were to face multiple dualists.
Assassin, then, Jeff concluded. A doctor and a killer: Padalecki keeps interesting company.
A silver bell rang from right outside the room, and Jensen entered with the service personnel trailing after him like ducklings. Their movements were so precise as to be beautiful. In fact, Jeff had never seen a military parade performed with such precision.
Then he caught the look on Dunrea’s face and realized what Jensen was doing.
The hybrid’s not playing servant here. He’s making a statement. That he’s capable of transforming anything into his domain if he so wished.
The food looked delicious and as varied as the people sitting around the table. Dunrea and Nora thawed even further as they began with their first course. Jared broke into an open grin when he saw his plate of fresh greens, and for reasons Jeff couldn’t figure, strawberries. But whatever the cause for his amusement, Jared dug in with hearty appetite.
Jeff felt his own stomach protest and winced. He should have eaten before the official dinner, but was too concerned about Hartley and his crew to grab a bite. Now, he wished he had if only so he could stand without attracting attention to himself. Jeff hated when he was noticed, unless it was by a pretty woman who was looking for company. Then, he was all smiles and chatter.
Nora was speaking in a polite manner to Kreuk who looked genuinely engrossed by whatever the Senator was talking about. Jeff wondered if she was feigning interest or that Nora actually had her attention.
Dunrea was a true leader but Nora was a born politician, and the man was capable of convincing the moon to rise from a different side of the planet if he was so inclined.
Jeff wondered how loyal Kreuk was to Padalecki.
“A drink?”
Jeff turned to face Jensen who had managed to approach him without being noticed. Once again, Jeff remembered the young hybrid and for a moment superimposed that wan, youthful face over this one.
Jeff liked this version better. Much more approachable even though still peppered with mystery.
“Is that tea?” he asked amiably.
“Broth,” Jensen answered. “It should tide you over until you can eat.”
“Please tell me you didn’t hear my stomach.”
“I can definitely say I didn’t,” Jensen responded promptly. “But then I’d be lying.”
Jeff grinned and took the mug. He chugged down a large gulp. “Is there meat in this?”
"There was meat but it’s broken down in the broth through enzymes. You’ve never partaken Grayan’s morning broth before?”
Jeff shook his head. “No, even when I had my ship I made sure we had four square meals every time cycle. Good food makes soldiers happy. I learned that by experience.”
He took another gulp of the broth and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Jensen said. He then turned his attention to the people sitting around the table. “I have to go. The fourth course is about to be served.”
“Exactly how many are there?”
“The usual: twenty-two.”
Jeff looked at Jensen with wide eyes.
Jensen smiled serenely. “Which is why I gave you your tea.”
“Owe you one,” Jeff said and took a sip. “Twenty-two. I’m going to be standing for a while yet.”
“Definitely.” With that single remark, Jensen rejoined the staff as they cleared the table and started setting up service-ware for the meat course.
Jeff watched the representatives eat and wondered how they could have any appetite. The food looked fantastic, and he knew it’d probably taste even better. But they had to be forcing down every forkful as starting tomorrow, things would be neither so elegant nor as friendly.
He shifted the balance on his feet and felt the comfortable weight of his gun on his hip. There were few other weapons he’d hidden on his person that passed the scan test: most of them illegal. But they brought him some peace of mind and he suspected Hartley had done the same.
This entire thing’s a farce, Jeff thought. Nobody’s who they’re pretending to be, so how can they possibly reach any peaceful negotiations? How can anything be achieved when everyone’s lying to each other, maybe even to themselves?
Jeff felt tired. Every wound he’d ever earned while as a soldier and as a mercenary shuddered through his bones. And now, as he watched these so-called dignitaries eat their body weight, he wondered if any of it had meaning.
He looked around the room and saw Hartley. Jeff couldn’t help himself: he smiled from ear to ear. Hartley was shoveling food into his mouth as if he was in a race, and the plate in his hands was by far the biggest in the room. And if his behavior was attracting any unwanted attention, it was obvious Hartley didn’t care. The dish he was eating was too damn good for him to hide his appreciation.
Jeff wondered if he was that naïve, ever. He decided that, of course, he was. Before the Conflict. Before he found out the lengths that men would go in order to keep what they had. And the betrayals they’d commit which resulted in immeasurable misery for everyone else.
The old soldier wondered if the people he was assigned to protect could avoid all that.
If history was anything to go by, he thought not.
Justin studied the night vista in front of him, debating whether lick his fingers clean. Even though the dinner had ended hours ago, Justin could still smell the sauce.
That was genuine beef, not processed substitute that we usually get on Moiren, Justin concluded as he gave into his desire to lick his fingers. And that stuff’s worth the price because if I could afford it, I’d eat beef every day.
He turned on his link. “Check in.”
“This is position number one, everyone’s settled down.”
“This is position number two, Morgan and his people are not. By the way, the redhead in his team – does anyone know if she’s attached or promised?”
“Position number three, she is.” There was a pause. “Oh, sorry, sky’s clear and beautiful.”
Justin grinned. Even in the midst of the tensest situation in their lives, his men’s libido could be counted onto make an appearance.
“Position number four, everything’s good here. And damn, I wanted to see if she had some down time coming up.”
“Position number five, circuit’s live, and thank the stars that I’m a woman.”
“Position number six, it’s all good. And I’m grateful you’re a woman, too," the masculine voice teased.
“Good to hear you’re all paying attention to your assignments,” Justin said in a firm but kind voice. “Eyes forward, everyone. We all know why we are here, and it isn’t to find a mate.”
There was a chorus of agreement then silence.
Justin hit a private line and connected with his seventh - Hertzog - who was ordered to remain silent during regular communications. “Everything acceptable with your wards?”
“Besides them having enthusiastic sex? Everything’s good.”
Justin closed his eyes and bit his tongue in order not to burst out laughing. “You are aware Ackles is his consort?”
“Yes, I am aware, but they’ve been going at it for … since right after dinner! And it’s boring.”
Justin blinked at that. “Boring?”
“I thought he being a doll, that … you know, they’d be into interesting bends. But it’s what your parents would do after they put the kids to bed.”
“You must have had a diverse and interesting childhood,” Justin commented lightly. “And it’s not for us to pass judgment about what Dr. Padalecki does with his consort. Just make sure they’re fit and able tomorrow.
“Am I clear?”
“Yes, boss.”
Justin shook his head in wonder as the line went dead. He couldn’t blame Hertzog, really. The kid was barely over nineteen and he’d only been to the mining planets. The biggest population center he’d ever visited was Praides and that was for an overnight job. So Hertzog had no chance to sample the nightlife or anything that tasted like central planet living.
What Hertzog didn’t realize was that people were the same no matter where they lived, who they called their friends, or lovers for that matter. For Hertzog, what Jared and Jensen was sharing seemed boring because he was young and wanted excitement. Justin thought Hertzog would change his mind soon enough. Excitement soured quickly enough when wisdom settled in, and would soon become poisonous when sadness entered the fray.
But Justin had no plans to disillusion his young cohort. Let Hertzog think that excitement didn’t come with a too-heavy price.
Exactly what kind of bends was he thinking anyway? Justin wondered. He’s still just a kid!
Jensen poured two glasses of cool water and returned to bed. He handed one over to Jared who took it gratefully.
“Dinner was horrible, wasn’t it?” Jensen asked.
“Yes, it certainly was,” Jared readily agreed. “I can’t remember what I ate. I’m just glad that I didn’t vomit it all back up.” Jared paused then smiled. “Thank you for the strawberries.”
“You’re welcome,” Jensen said. “Your plate was the only one that had them, by the way.”
“Must have confused people.”
“If strawberries confused them, then we have no hope for this summit,” Jensen quipped.
“So, what do you think about the Senators?”
“Dunrea doesn’t like me, but I don’t think it’s personal,” Jensen said. “Did you notice?”
“I did,” Jared said. “I think it’s because he’s not used to hybrids being in a position of power, especially now.”
“Do you want me to confront him about it?” Jensen offered. “Better to lance the infection before it grows worse."
Jared shook his head. “No, the meeting won’t require that. He knows better than to let his prejudices decay his judgment.”
“Because he was a soldier?”
“That, and something else,” Jared said. “I found out a interesting tidbit about the venerated Senator: his sister has a hybrid child. From what I understand, she is still in her childhood phase.”
“How long ago did her own die?” Jensen asked sadly.
“Five years,” Jared answered. “She had a girl named Elyse.”
“How did she pass?”
“She drowned.”
Jensen closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I wish they would make swimming mandatory for attending techs.”
“You’d think they would with all the drownings they’ve suffered,” Jared agreed with a pained look on his face. “And I’m surprised they’re still bothering to use hoverboards, considering the failure rate of those things.
“Father had it right: nothing like human eyes and experience when it comes to watching people,”
Jensen laid down next to Jared and nuzzled his shoulder. “I love to watch you swim. You look so graceful.”
Jared couldn’t stop smiling as the compliment meant a great deal to him. “Really? I thought I looked like a crippled goat, trying to keep itself from drowning.”
Jensen chuckled richly and shook his head. “No, you do not.”
“I bet you’d look good.”
“Now I will look like a drowning goat,” Jensen quipped.
Jared closed his eyes and dreamt of a day when Jensen could swim. However, Jared doubted Jensen ever could, as he was incapable of generating enough forward momentum to counteract with his natural weight, which was heavier than Jared’s because of his artificial frame.
Jared felt Jensen’s breathing slow down. He opened his eyes and watched his lover drift off to his sleep. It had taken Jared a long while to realize that Jensen actually made himself rest. He didn’t know why, only that Jensen did so, and Jared was grateful that he did.
He loved watching Jensen sleep. His face was a study of peaceful beauty and complete relaxation. It was also the time when Jared was able to watch Jensen’s internal repair system heal whatever injuries Jensen had earned during the day. It had taken Jared years to realize that Jensen had deliberately slowed down this process, and in some cases, completely stopped it from happening.
Jared still remembered the exact moment when he’d realized that Jensen was deliberately aging himself: a year after Jared had returned from Andrea Academy. They had a retiring day and went to sleep early, as Jared’s schedule for the next day was a hectic one. He was half asleep when he saw the dark mole on Jensen’s neck.
It was only when he gently brushed his fingers against it that he realized it wasn’t fading away. Jared couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like freckles, so Jensen’s repair system should’ve erased it.
But it didn’t.
Jared watched more carefully as the days passed and soon realized Jensen wasn’t completely healing some of his scars. Also, even more obvious were Jensen’s hands which looked as worn as Jared’s. Then he noticed more: they were just little things but so telling that it didn’t take Jared long to realize that Jensen was getting ‘old’.
As if he were human.
Initially, Jared was angry and distressed. Then, he felt loved in a way he couldn’t even vocalize. Jared wanted to tell Jensen how much he appreciated what he was doing, but realized Jensen didn’t tell him because it wasn’t of great importance to him.
So, Jared kept his peace. It’d taken him quite a bit of practice to bite his tongue and not gush in gratitude. But, in time, Jared accomplished it. However, in the quiet of night, he could relax and revel in the love that was given to him so effortlessly.
Jared had seen it before, of course: his parents. And yet, he was completely taken by surprise when he saw that he was receiving the same devotion.
Jared looked at Jensen and grinned. He had no idea when Jensen started sleeping with his mouth open, but it was adorable. Jared kissed Jensen’s nose and closed his eyes. He then remembered something:
“Good night,” Jared said to the people listening in.
Then, he triggered his personal scrambler so he and Jensen could sleep in privacy.
Hertzog huffed a little laugh when he heard Jared’s throwaway remark. “Smart bastard,” he said.
The silent watcher saw the lights in Padalecki’s bedroom dim until only the barest hint of it remained.
He relayed Padalecki’s farewell message to his governor, only to hear Justin’s hearty laugh as a sign-out.
Hertzog’s grin grew broader.
I guess he’s not as modest as he makes himself out to be since he knew we were listening in the entire time. Justin thought. Wonder if he can generate some kind of barrier we can’t penetrate?
Justin mentally kicked himself. Of course Padalecki would come up with such a device. It only made sense: the man was a genius. And his love of privacy was well known. Numerous media circuits constantly invaded Praides, thinking they were going to somehow manage to get an exclusive interview with the quiet inventor. After wandering aimlessly in the desert for few days, they’d come back and try to find someone to introduce them to Jared Padalecki. Unfortunately for them, it was a fruitless exercise since nobody was willing to do the deed.
Justin used to get a good laugh whenever he watched a media report about Jared Padalecki that featured outdated photos and some regurgitated stories that revealed nothing about the scientist-inventor and all about the ineptitude of the media.
After biting back his fifth yawn, Justin opened a small metal pouch and shook out a single pill. It was divided in half: one side is red, the other blue. He placed it under his tongue and grimaced as the bitter taste overwhelmed everything, even the sweet, juicy remnants of the sauce.
Just for a moment he closed his eyes, bracing himself as the medication hit his heart and forced the organ to race faster.
I have no idea who this Edlund guy is, but he makes the best racers, Justin thought, as the artificial stimulant hammered into his system. He took the requisite sixty deep breaths before taking the painkillers. The headaches that inevitably followed had to be quashed. Otherwise, Justin would become useless – something he’d learned the hard way.
The sentinel glanced at the chronos that was synched with those of his people and saw he had two full hours before he would be able to switch with his second.
Justin looked up at the night sky and noticed the clouds roiling like they were going to spill rain.
But it’d be polluted: ash-filled. Guaranteed to choke life out of anything, Justin thought sadly. He’d studied Nerum’s history and felt genuine horror when he learned about the genocidal end to the civilization that was so beautifully presented in the poem, Perdix’s Lament, written by a survivor who later committed suicide as she couldn’t find peace in the fact that she survived while her family did not.
Like most of his fellow miners, Justin had great appreciation of natural beauty, especially when it was blessed with such plentiful waters. And to see it be destroyed so thoroughly seemed obscene, heretical even.
Justin closed his eyes and whispered a little prayer to the wind gods who called his planet their home. He needed their power and their blessings in the coming days.
Though Justin never set foot in a learning center, he had memorized all the prayers of his temple before reaching the age of fifteen. He was self-educated and proud of the achievement. Justin could still remember the first time he could read: it was his name. He’d just celebrated his eleventh birthday and decided to see if he could make sense of the scribbles his parents had insisted was important to his career: a career that did not include mining.
Justin balked when he found out their plans for his future. He wanted to be a miner just like his father. Marcus Hartley made a decent living, earned the respect of other townsfolk, and was feared even by the mining companies’ reps. But the wind-carved man did not want any of his children to inherit his legacy. Instead, he and his second wife drove themselves harder so their children could go off-world.
The tug-of-war between them was fierce, but in the end Justin won. So, he stayed happily behind in order to help his parents.
Still, that pure taste of knowledge as he decoded the mystery of the written world … it was addictive. And his parents encouraged his learning, right up until their mine exploded, taking them and most of their dusty town with it. Justin had survived by pure chance. He was away, trading in a market town in order to get supplies while buying himself a present for his fourteenth birthday.
It was a slaughterhouse he’d returned to. The few who survived were either pinned down by debris or incapable of calling for help. By the time the medic ships and the recovery teams arrived, a town of nearly two hundred people had been decimated to seventeen: a number that systematically decreased in the coming days as the survivors succumbed to their injuries.
Justin watched as the mining companies coldly terminated the contracts they had with the miners, leaving the entire area without means to make a living. So, not only did Justin’s town, Buchaeh, die, but along went their neighbors - Jeju-do, Royan, and Sams.
It was then Justin realized what his father had always known: mining was a killing business. And the corporations didn’t care who paid what price as long as they had inium to fuel their ships.
Justin took to the mountains then. After selling off his mining inheritance for a pittance and borrowing some money from his sister, he was able to start an underground business with the only gift he could sell: his ability to terra-jump.
It had taken him less than a year to gather enough funds to hire a select group of sensei to train him. By the time he reached his eighteenth birthday, he was able to buy himself a ship so he could start finding jobs on other planets.
After putting together his crew, they began making a living by systematically bleeding the central planets any way they could: simple heists on land, payload-switching in space, and later - kidnapping.
And kidnapping was a booming business. In fact, it was so popular as a criminal enterprise, that the corporations had their own negotiators who could guarantee the return of the hostages while not bankrupting their masters.
Justin loved dealing with that group. Reasonable, sane, they knew the game and probably the reasons why the hostages were targeted to begin with. So, after a while Justin was able to pick and choose which job he wanted to do.
He watched as the flickering light told him where Morgan was.
Wonder if the man takes stimulants. Probably not. Soldiers who survived for as long as he has needs none.
Justin continued to stare as the light flickered weakly before dying.
What would be it take to kill a man like that?
Jeff grinned smugly as he watched Justin study the decoy he’d set up before dinner.
The boy thinks he’s smart and maybe he is. But I’m smarter.
He took a walk around the campsite that Justin had established before coming down the hills. It was sparse and the chemical testings had revealed pretty much nothing.
Hartley used enzyme cleaners. Not going to find anything worth looking at if he did what I’d do in his place.
Jeff kicked a few rocks and noted their composition. He picked up the shiny ones and pocketed them. Jeff knew they weren’t from this ridge, which meant they traveled quite a distance or Hartley had a second camp hidden somewhere close.
“Lieutenant?” his comm squawked.
“Yes?” Jeff responded.
“Your two is coming up.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it here: no need to waste precious shut-eye time going back to base.”
“Understood. Hope you have safe sleep.”
“I always do.”
With that remark Jeff hunkered down on the cloying rocks. It took him a while but the soldier managed to find a position comfortable enough to sleep in. He checked the horizon and noted he’d be awake around sunrise.
Wonder if I’ll even see it, with all these clouds and air disturbances.
Jeff was half asleep when he remembered a meteorological phenomenon he’d read earlier. Muttering few choice words, he pulled out a facemask, a hood, and pair of gloves. Though Nerum’s rain didn’t do much damage to artificial gear, it was stringent enough to burn skin.
Don’t remember rain being in the forecast, but I better not take any chances, Jeff noted sourly. He then nestled back into the rocks and fell asleep almost instantly.
Lieutenant Morgan had conditioned himself to the point his body needed only two hours of rest for every full cycle. In times of combat, that could be pared down to one for weeks with a two-day sleep cycle triggered by chemicals at the end. A lot of men couldn’t function with any capacity and some had gone insane trying to achieve this level of sleep deprivation, but Jeff managed.
That was his special talent.
Jeff wasn’t an exceptional soldier. He wasn’t the best shot; Chris was. He couldn’t read people like Steve. But no matter how hard life had gotten: Jeff managed. He would rise from the ashes like a well-armed Lazarus, grinning and mostly untouched, physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Some societies would deem him a monster. Some would call him blessed. But all needed men like him and paid handsomely to keep him in their stables.
Dunrea looked at the broiling black sky and wondered if it really was morning. He had no idea how much he’d trusted the sun to mark his days until he had none. Even on Arctica I, where the sun was too weak to be seen by the human eye, there were artificial lights simulating daytime so the miners and the settlers didn’t suffer.
He rolled back the cuffs of his tunic and studied his wrists. The implants weren’t visible amongst his tattoos and once more the Senator was glad that the doctors had cooperated with the artists responsible for the intricate artwork on his entire body.
The Senator lightly grazed a slight bump and felt the trigger.
Wouldn’t want to accidentally hit my wrist and explode, Dunrea thought sarcastically. He then examined the one on the right pinkie. That little sac contained a toxin that allowed him to fool most anyone into thinking that he was dead.
Of course, there were a few who’d know otherwise, and if they reached in him time they could revive Dunrea.
However, his favorite was what was known as ‘death hand’. The implant was on the heel of his right hand, and if he activated the gland, it would secrete a poison through his skin and onto any surface he touched. Dunrea had been ingesting that specific neurotoxin most of his adult life, so he’d built immunity to it. That went true for most of his family. They were well-versed in warfare as they were from a long line of monks who, on many occasions, were called to fight.
Dunrea remembered a life where he had two names: Frederic Lehne. But that name died when his family was killed by the private security firm guarding a mining corporation. A corporation that didn’t like the fact that they were sharing profits with single-family miners.
After few unfortunate explosions, they managed to convince the surviving families to relinquish their shares of the mining profits and leave without filing a complaint.
Lehne’s family did not, and they paid a heavy price.
Frederic, a boy of nine, was adopted into the local temple his family belonged to and became an acolyte. His unusual ability in the linguistic field quickly garnished him notice. He received a concentrated form of education which allowed him to enter a tech at the unheard age of thirteen.
After his academic stint, Frederic was assigned to Aban I and rose in rank amongst the temple elders until he became Supreme Councilor. After attaining that enviable rank, he was nominated to be their military leader when the Conflict began and Aban I announced their allegiance to the Central Planets.
Dunrea’s dour look turned vulpine as he remembered his bloody victories.
Oh, we’re so good at that, though. So, so very good at spilling blood and then moping it up afterwards.
His fingers twitched as he watched the small ball slide right under the skin. To anyone else it looked like a small pus.
I wonder whom I’ll use it on, Dunrea wondered. He didn’t exactly know why he implanted the poison, but he had never done it and not used it.
Dunrea had a clear memory of how it worked. It was a neurotoxin that immediately paralyzed the central nervous system before shutting down all respiratory process. The victim would be dead by the time anyone noticed their distress.
The Senator wondered if he’d use it on Padalecki, and if it would have any detrimental effect on the hybrid.
Dunrea closed his eyes and imagined all the possibilities dangling in front of him like stars.
I never understood ‘war at any cost’ argument. So, is peace at any cost any more acceptable?
Dunrea sighed and rolled down the sleeves. He looked at the mass of comms spread on the table and the bed. All telling him what he needed to do, some in harsh orders to mask unconquerable fears. Some in pleading tones – mostly by parents who’d lost children in the Conflict or other skirmishes with the colonials.
A gentle knock on the door broke him from his trance. Dunrea shook his head firmly and gathered his thoughts.
Time to play god, Dunrea thought. Time to be a hero again.
Dunrea opened the door and gave a nod to Deol to enter. Henry stepped aside and gave a bow as a way of greeting. “The meeting is about to commence. Here are the initial points.”
Dunrea took a negligible glance. “Unless Nora has gone mad since last night, nothing’s changed.”
Henry gave a thin smile. “I personally think we’ve all gone insane but that’s just my opinion.”
Dunrea slapped Henry on his shoulder. “A little bit of delusion would serve you well today.”
“I shall do my best to summon it,” Henry said dryly. “But I thought you’d like to know the hybrid is in the room alongside Padalecki.”
Dunrea grimaced but showed no real surprise. “I should’ve treated him better yesterday.”
“We all should have,” Henry agreed sourly. “Something tells me we did not earn Padalecki’s good grace by sticking his consort in the kitchen.”
“But that’s where the thing usually presides,” Dunrea said. “Of course, he also attends all important meetings.”
“And before you ask, he’s cleared all the scans.”
“Of course it did,” Dunrea said. “I wonder what Morgan thinks about the creature.”
“He’s vastly amused,” Henry said. “I suspect he knows something he’s not telling us. I wonder why.”
“I trust Jeff,” Dunrea said. “He has the habit of finding out every dirty detail on a subject then not saying anything when it doesn’t serve his purpose.”
“From his soldiering days, I presume?”
“No, he always had that habit,” Dunrea answered. He took a deep breath and flipped through all the missives again. “So, the hue and cry has begun.”
“Perceptibly.”
“Then let us see what can be gotten from this mess that Noah has left behind.”
Jared glanced at the closed doors and at Hartley who looked like he’d been floating in stimulants for a while. He then noticed Jensen whose attention was wholly focused on Morgan’s men. Jared studied them: combat-hardened soldiers, all too familiar as people like these men walked the streets of Praides every day.
One of them looked at Jensen. “Can I help you?”
“What is your name?” Jensen asked.
Jared was startled that Jensen would so boldly question a complete stranger from the Senator’s entourage, but kept his peace out of curiosity.
“Christian Kane.”
“Thank you,” Jensen answered and then turned away.
The Praetorian Guard looked slightly puzzled by Jensen’s abrupt dismissal but didn’t say anything else. His partner smirked at him but said nothing also.
His curiosity now fully needled, Jared studied rest of the group with great deal more subtlety and finally realized Jensen was becoming nervous. It hadn’t been often that Jared had seen Jensen in such a state, but in the current setting Jared had to accept the fact that Jensen was capable of processing what he was seeing with greater efficiency than his human counterparts.
Dunrea swept into the room, looking completely unconcerned with the monumental task ahead.
“Good morning,” Dunrea said cordially. “First off, thank you for attending what I know is a sudden not to mention dangerous meeting.
“Please take your seat.”
Jensen remained seated next to Jared so if anyone was assigned to that particular position, they had to plan otherwise.
The group swiftly took places around the table that took up half the room. The oval stonework was chipped from the very foundation and couldn’t be moved. Jared was sure there was a religious significance attached to it and sadly wondered if Grace or Peter knew of its history.
Dunrea handed out stacks of comms and each member took one.
“I have arranged as much as possible all the points of discussion from us,” he said. “I’ve anticipated some from yours, but I’m quite sure it’s nowhere near enough.”
Padalecki screened through the list and said, “I do have few additions.”
A dull roar echoed through the stone-encased room. It wasn’t sharp or particularly loud but the sound was designed to trigger primal response in humans.
“What’s happened?” Dunrea asked Morgan who immediately plugged into his wrist comm.
“Excuse me,” the lieutenant said and stepped out of the room followed by Hartley. Kane remained along with his cohort. Rainier, member of Hartley’s team, inched closer to Jared. However, it was Jensen who made the initial move.
He stood up and leaned over to Jared. “We have to get out,” he whispered. “This is a trap.”
Jared gave a cool nod and stood up. “I see. Of course, how could I have forgotten?”
Kane frowned. “Forgotten what?”
“Hartley had told us what to do in certain scenarios,” Jared replied. To his relief, his team didn’t bat an eye when he gave his reply. “And we must obey protocol.”
With that remark he followed Jensen who hurriedly walked towards the exit. Rainier stood next to the entrance and didn’t bother to hide his hostility as he eyed Dunrea’s team.
It was Kane who shot first and his aim was flawless. Rainier didn’t have any time to press the panic alarm as he crumpled to the floor. Chris’ second shot took down Pangborn but he missed Kreuk when she made a tight, sidestep to her left. And before Chris had chance to fire again, Kristin was out of the room.
Not wasting precious seconds Dunrea’s delegates swiftly exited the room using the second entrance. Chris managed to shoot Nora and Didier, but Deol and Dunrea were ahead of all of them so he didn’t get either man.
Chris’ upper lip curled up in frustration. He hit his link and said, “We’ve got a mess.”
“I got them on the tracker,” Jeff said. “They’re not going anywhere.”
“Which one do you want me go after?”
“Neutralize Hartley’s team first,” Jeff ordered. “Then we’ll do a systematic sweep and get the others.”
“Understood,” Chris said. He took out a slim black metallic barrel and attached it to his gun. He flashed the sight and a red point appeared on the opposite wall, twice its usual size. Satisfied with his weapon’s new blast range, Chris bolted out of the room.
Part II * Part IV
Author's Name:
frostianArtist's Name:
3whiterosesGenre: RPS, AU
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Main character deaths
Summary: Humanity is at the brink of war as the relationship between the two major ruling parties disintegrate under bloody assassinations and accusations. Representatives from both sides, desperate in the hopes of avoiding annihilation, meet in secret, trying to stave off a conflagration that would set back humanity into the days before space travel. But neither party knows that there's a third group keen to see war explode across all systems. (Conclusion to Three Grams.)
Disclaimer: Brought to you live from Fiction Nation!
Dunrea sighed as he read Jeff’s report. “So, we have settlers, mercenaries, and self-professed lunatics composing their security team?”
“From what I gathered, Governor Murray personally hired this particular bunch of beauties,” Jeff added with a slight upturn on his lips.
“That does little to comfort me,” Dunrea said. “But that also means this group is capable of doing what’s necessary. As you well know, being mercenaries don’t make them foolish or gullible.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Jeff agreed readily. “And I’ve already asked my sources about Hartley's unit. Nobody seems to know anything, which makes me wonder what missions they'd accomplished in order to get Murray’s attention."
“You’re thinking it’s something below the law?”
“Oh, I think that’s a given,” Jeff said. "I'll just have to dig some more. Something's bound to come up."
Dunrea watched Jeff leave the room, already barking out the commands necessary to implement his safety protocols. Suddenly, the retired general felt a great rush of fondness for the man.
It was nothing short of miraculous luck that got Jeff Morgan back into his life. After discovering the whereabouts of his ex-sergeant, Dunrea made contact with the renegade soldier who agreed to a meeting. The Senator was on his way to their rendezvous point when his ship was hijacked by pirates who blew apart Dunrea’s security escorts with ease. The senator was resigned to being ransomed when Winchester decloaked and entered the fray.
Dunrea was shocked to hear his old sergeant’s voice come through the comm, but not as surprised as the three hijackers who were doomed the moment they raised their guns at Jeff.
The rescue was as fast as the hijacking, and Dunrea was actually glad it happened. After talking with Jeff, Dunrea realized the man was drifting further into the darker recesses of the mercenary world. Knowing what happened to people who practiced the bloodier aspects of the trade, Dunrea offered Morgan a job as a member of his security team.
Jeff only accepted after Dunrea confided in him about the paucity of trustworthy personnel in his entourage, and when the senator gave him a written contract allowing him to bring on his two-person crew.
Luckily, Kane and Carlson managed to blend in with the rest of the Dunrea’s Praetorian Guards in spite of their outrageous antics. And even with his prolonged detour to the private sector, Jeff’s talent as a leader became obvious to all the men already assigned to Dunrea. So, it didn’t take long for Jeff to earn the position of lieutenant. And, if any of the original personnel had problems with that, they were silenced quickly enough so that Dunrea didn’t have to concern himself with the problem of promoting Jeff to head position.
He often wondered if it was Kane or Carlson who did the blood work silencing Jeff’s detractors and thus guaranteeing cooperation from everyone else.
Dunrea sat down on his bed, suddenly feeling his age. His shoulders throbbed with pain as the tension of the days ahead suddenly overwhelmed him.
I am too old to be a senator. And I am definitely too old for this! I should’ve retired before Noah took the throne and drove us all into the brink of war.
The sarcastic look on Dunrea’s face turned into a grimace.
We’d already be at war if I weren’t able to corral those cowardly bastards who’d do nothing save for wringing their hands while sending other parents’ children to fight and die.
Dunrea wondered if he had any right to be angry by that particular outrage anymore. As a terrain general in the last Conflict he’d sent over three million infantry men and women to their deaths, and he’d probably known outright that nearly half would not make it back alive.
What happened to that man? What happened to that soul-fire who swore he would get justice for the dead and those left behind grieving?
The answer was simple: that man compromised.
And it was humiliating to note it wasn’t long before he’d gotten comfortable with the perks, the fast shuttles, and the vast amount of funds thrown his way. He’d used much of it to help the soldiers who survived the war, and their families who needed extra income to sustain them while the soldiers recovered and found professions willing to accommodate them and their newly-developed ‘quirks’.
That’s not an excuse, Dunrea admitted to himself. After this debacle has ended, I will retire. That is if I’m still alive. And there’s anything to retire to.
Justin Hartley loved to take his time. Everyone who knew him believed the exact opposite when he made a livelihood by going at speeds hard to comprehend for an educated layman.
But the truth was just the opposite.
He loved to walk, to swim lazily about whenever the rare occasion presented itself. To play with his daughter while she crawled on the floor, looking for something to amuse her and her father.
Nevertheless, what Justin did best was going at speeds that would wreck the human bone structure. He was one of the few who could function while diving from free space into gravity zones. Most humans became disoriented then mentally collapse and end up as a grim warning on whatever surface they manage to crash onto, but Justin was capable of performing multiple tasks while burning through the sky like a comet.
Justin was also damn lucky. He always managed to end up landing on a surface best suited to his needs. And this luck wasn’t relegated just to his diving skills either.
Even after being banned from having children by the Population Board, Justin and his wife, Lindsay, went ahead and Isabella was born. To their boundless joy and relief, their daughter was perfectly healthy. However, the parents ended up needing a lot of money to buy off silence from people who could report them, which would result in the removal Isabella because she wasn’t PBE-approved.
Justin had heard stories about the farms where they imprisoned children like Isabella. And how they were conditioned to think of themselves not as human beings but as half-breeds.
The father doubted such a place existed, as it would be impossible for anyone to hide such a hideous secret for long. But Justin couldn’t risk it. He loved his daughter and would sacrifice anything to keep his family safe. So, his love of steadiness, of enjoying the preciousness of time, was sacrificed.
His reputation made it easy for Justin to get assignments. And the pay was good, especially when he did dirty work for the nobles. But, when Governor Murray approached him with this particular detail, Justin was ready to do it for free. He’d admired the Padalecki clan and the numerous sacrifices they made as they created a better world for the mining planets. And the fact that Jared Padalecki had the courage to declare his affection for his non-human consort made it much easier for Justin to continue his adoration of the brilliant family.
Then the bombing happened, shattering his world just like the many millions who watched with incredulous horror as the news reported the deaths of Dr. and Professor Padalecki. When the baying for blood began echoing in his home-planet, Justin roared. So, Murray’s offer was too good to pass up. Protect Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles. Then, if there was a chance, find the people responsible for the killings and introduce them to free-fall: without suits, without helmets.
And watch them burn the sky.
Jeff watched Jensen move about the kitchen, quietly ordering the cooks to prepare the meal in ways both the Senators and his team preferred. He was amazed at how adept the hybrid child had become: to not foster distrust all the while ensuring that the numerous dietary wishes were carried out.
Jeff thought most humans wouldn’t like to be ordered by a hybrid, but he had underestimated the service personnel. They had been long trained to meet the needs of their masters, and if that included listening to the advice of a non-human, then they’d do it without question and without much complaint.
A serving maid blushed prettily when Jensen leaned over to correct her handling of a dish Jeff couldn’t even identify. He noticed the hybrid’s effect on the women seemed to be one of erotic nature, while the men seemed honestly confused. Jeff could understand that: most male hybrids owned by men were effete in both looks and manner.
Jensen was not.
He was beautiful, but nobody with working vision could mistake him for a woman. And his physical grace was masculine in both movement and speed.
“Is there something you needed?” Jensen asked him.
Jeff realized he’d been caught openly staring. “No, I think not.”
“Then, please tell the guests dinner is ready.”
“I will.”
Jeff exited the kitchen quickly, not caring if his hurried steps were amusing the service personnel.
Dunrea was talking animatedly with Jared, which seemed to encourage the rest of the summit attendees to at least be civil to each other.
Dunrea with Nora were the leading representatives of the Senate and the Central Planets. With them were Miriam Didier and Henry Deol. Henry had been the Chief of Medicine until Noah replaced him with Toby Gifu, a hardliner with a well-known disdain for medical academies not incorporated within the Central Planets. It had been Jeff’s great pleasure to personally escort Gifu out of his office the day after Noah was declared deceased.
Miriam Didier was a mystery. He knew she came from Dunrea’s home-planet and remained there after she’d finished her studies in spite of lucrative offers from companies from other systems. Her specialty was in media relations, and she’d been known to manipulate whomever she’d chosen with considerable skill.
With Padalecki and Ackles were Kristin Kreuk and Robert Pangborn, both of whom were from the medical field. Jeff had an inside tip that Kristin’s parents were assigned to Heben, the medical facility that handled most of the wounded colonial soldiers in the Conflict. Jeff had been to Heben many times, but he’d never met Kreuk’s parents. However, the facility was huge, spread over ten klicks, with multiple underground tunnels and hidden bunkers in case of surprise attacks or carpet bombings. At its busiest, Heben treated no less than three thousand soldiers. Their success rate was nearly eighty percent, higher than any field hospital sponsored by the Central Planets.
Jeff studied Kreuk and noticed how deftly she handled her cutting tools. And her mannerism wasn’t purely medical, either. In fact, he’d recognized it as Specnaz Method: a very brutal but effective way of slicing down your opponent moments after engaging him. Unfortunately, the style was rather useless if you were to face multiple dualists.
Assassin, then, Jeff concluded. A doctor and a killer: Padalecki keeps interesting company.
A silver bell rang from right outside the room, and Jensen entered with the service personnel trailing after him like ducklings. Their movements were so precise as to be beautiful. In fact, Jeff had never seen a military parade performed with such precision.
Then he caught the look on Dunrea’s face and realized what Jensen was doing.
The hybrid’s not playing servant here. He’s making a statement. That he’s capable of transforming anything into his domain if he so wished.
The food looked delicious and as varied as the people sitting around the table. Dunrea and Nora thawed even further as they began with their first course. Jared broke into an open grin when he saw his plate of fresh greens, and for reasons Jeff couldn’t figure, strawberries. But whatever the cause for his amusement, Jared dug in with hearty appetite.
Jeff felt his own stomach protest and winced. He should have eaten before the official dinner, but was too concerned about Hartley and his crew to grab a bite. Now, he wished he had if only so he could stand without attracting attention to himself. Jeff hated when he was noticed, unless it was by a pretty woman who was looking for company. Then, he was all smiles and chatter.
Nora was speaking in a polite manner to Kreuk who looked genuinely engrossed by whatever the Senator was talking about. Jeff wondered if she was feigning interest or that Nora actually had her attention.
Dunrea was a true leader but Nora was a born politician, and the man was capable of convincing the moon to rise from a different side of the planet if he was so inclined.
Jeff wondered how loyal Kreuk was to Padalecki.
“A drink?”
Jeff turned to face Jensen who had managed to approach him without being noticed. Once again, Jeff remembered the young hybrid and for a moment superimposed that wan, youthful face over this one.
Jeff liked this version better. Much more approachable even though still peppered with mystery.
“Is that tea?” he asked amiably.
“Broth,” Jensen answered. “It should tide you over until you can eat.”
“Please tell me you didn’t hear my stomach.”
“I can definitely say I didn’t,” Jensen responded promptly. “But then I’d be lying.”
Jeff grinned and took the mug. He chugged down a large gulp. “Is there meat in this?”
"There was meat but it’s broken down in the broth through enzymes. You’ve never partaken Grayan’s morning broth before?”
Jeff shook his head. “No, even when I had my ship I made sure we had four square meals every time cycle. Good food makes soldiers happy. I learned that by experience.”
He took another gulp of the broth and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Jensen said. He then turned his attention to the people sitting around the table. “I have to go. The fourth course is about to be served.”
“Exactly how many are there?”
“The usual: twenty-two.”
Jeff looked at Jensen with wide eyes.
Jensen smiled serenely. “Which is why I gave you your tea.”
“Owe you one,” Jeff said and took a sip. “Twenty-two. I’m going to be standing for a while yet.”
“Definitely.” With that single remark, Jensen rejoined the staff as they cleared the table and started setting up service-ware for the meat course.
Jeff watched the representatives eat and wondered how they could have any appetite. The food looked fantastic, and he knew it’d probably taste even better. But they had to be forcing down every forkful as starting tomorrow, things would be neither so elegant nor as friendly.
He shifted the balance on his feet and felt the comfortable weight of his gun on his hip. There were few other weapons he’d hidden on his person that passed the scan test: most of them illegal. But they brought him some peace of mind and he suspected Hartley had done the same.
This entire thing’s a farce, Jeff thought. Nobody’s who they’re pretending to be, so how can they possibly reach any peaceful negotiations? How can anything be achieved when everyone’s lying to each other, maybe even to themselves?
Jeff felt tired. Every wound he’d ever earned while as a soldier and as a mercenary shuddered through his bones. And now, as he watched these so-called dignitaries eat their body weight, he wondered if any of it had meaning.
He looked around the room and saw Hartley. Jeff couldn’t help himself: he smiled from ear to ear. Hartley was shoveling food into his mouth as if he was in a race, and the plate in his hands was by far the biggest in the room. And if his behavior was attracting any unwanted attention, it was obvious Hartley didn’t care. The dish he was eating was too damn good for him to hide his appreciation.
Jeff wondered if he was that naïve, ever. He decided that, of course, he was. Before the Conflict. Before he found out the lengths that men would go in order to keep what they had. And the betrayals they’d commit which resulted in immeasurable misery for everyone else.
The old soldier wondered if the people he was assigned to protect could avoid all that.
If history was anything to go by, he thought not.
Justin studied the night vista in front of him, debating whether lick his fingers clean. Even though the dinner had ended hours ago, Justin could still smell the sauce.
That was genuine beef, not processed substitute that we usually get on Moiren, Justin concluded as he gave into his desire to lick his fingers. And that stuff’s worth the price because if I could afford it, I’d eat beef every day.
He turned on his link. “Check in.”
“This is position number one, everyone’s settled down.”
“This is position number two, Morgan and his people are not. By the way, the redhead in his team – does anyone know if she’s attached or promised?”
“Position number three, she is.” There was a pause. “Oh, sorry, sky’s clear and beautiful.”
Justin grinned. Even in the midst of the tensest situation in their lives, his men’s libido could be counted onto make an appearance.
“Position number four, everything’s good here. And damn, I wanted to see if she had some down time coming up.”
“Position number five, circuit’s live, and thank the stars that I’m a woman.”
“Position number six, it’s all good. And I’m grateful you’re a woman, too," the masculine voice teased.
“Good to hear you’re all paying attention to your assignments,” Justin said in a firm but kind voice. “Eyes forward, everyone. We all know why we are here, and it isn’t to find a mate.”
There was a chorus of agreement then silence.
Justin hit a private line and connected with his seventh - Hertzog - who was ordered to remain silent during regular communications. “Everything acceptable with your wards?”
“Besides them having enthusiastic sex? Everything’s good.”
Justin closed his eyes and bit his tongue in order not to burst out laughing. “You are aware Ackles is his consort?”
“Yes, I am aware, but they’ve been going at it for … since right after dinner! And it’s boring.”
Justin blinked at that. “Boring?”
“I thought he being a doll, that … you know, they’d be into interesting bends. But it’s what your parents would do after they put the kids to bed.”
“You must have had a diverse and interesting childhood,” Justin commented lightly. “And it’s not for us to pass judgment about what Dr. Padalecki does with his consort. Just make sure they’re fit and able tomorrow.
“Am I clear?”
“Yes, boss.”
Justin shook his head in wonder as the line went dead. He couldn’t blame Hertzog, really. The kid was barely over nineteen and he’d only been to the mining planets. The biggest population center he’d ever visited was Praides and that was for an overnight job. So Hertzog had no chance to sample the nightlife or anything that tasted like central planet living.
What Hertzog didn’t realize was that people were the same no matter where they lived, who they called their friends, or lovers for that matter. For Hertzog, what Jared and Jensen was sharing seemed boring because he was young and wanted excitement. Justin thought Hertzog would change his mind soon enough. Excitement soured quickly enough when wisdom settled in, and would soon become poisonous when sadness entered the fray.
But Justin had no plans to disillusion his young cohort. Let Hertzog think that excitement didn’t come with a too-heavy price.
Exactly what kind of bends was he thinking anyway? Justin wondered. He’s still just a kid!
Jensen poured two glasses of cool water and returned to bed. He handed one over to Jared who took it gratefully.
“Dinner was horrible, wasn’t it?” Jensen asked.
“Yes, it certainly was,” Jared readily agreed. “I can’t remember what I ate. I’m just glad that I didn’t vomit it all back up.” Jared paused then smiled. “Thank you for the strawberries.”
“You’re welcome,” Jensen said. “Your plate was the only one that had them, by the way.”
“Must have confused people.”
“If strawberries confused them, then we have no hope for this summit,” Jensen quipped.
“So, what do you think about the Senators?”
“Dunrea doesn’t like me, but I don’t think it’s personal,” Jensen said. “Did you notice?”
“I did,” Jared said. “I think it’s because he’s not used to hybrids being in a position of power, especially now.”
“Do you want me to confront him about it?” Jensen offered. “Better to lance the infection before it grows worse."
Jared shook his head. “No, the meeting won’t require that. He knows better than to let his prejudices decay his judgment.”
“Because he was a soldier?”
“That, and something else,” Jared said. “I found out a interesting tidbit about the venerated Senator: his sister has a hybrid child. From what I understand, she is still in her childhood phase.”
“How long ago did her own die?” Jensen asked sadly.
“Five years,” Jared answered. “She had a girl named Elyse.”
“How did she pass?”
“She drowned.”
Jensen closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I wish they would make swimming mandatory for attending techs.”
“You’d think they would with all the drownings they’ve suffered,” Jared agreed with a pained look on his face. “And I’m surprised they’re still bothering to use hoverboards, considering the failure rate of those things.
“Father had it right: nothing like human eyes and experience when it comes to watching people,”
Jensen laid down next to Jared and nuzzled his shoulder. “I love to watch you swim. You look so graceful.”
Jared couldn’t stop smiling as the compliment meant a great deal to him. “Really? I thought I looked like a crippled goat, trying to keep itself from drowning.”
Jensen chuckled richly and shook his head. “No, you do not.”
“I bet you’d look good.”
“Now I will look like a drowning goat,” Jensen quipped.
Jared closed his eyes and dreamt of a day when Jensen could swim. However, Jared doubted Jensen ever could, as he was incapable of generating enough forward momentum to counteract with his natural weight, which was heavier than Jared’s because of his artificial frame.
Jared felt Jensen’s breathing slow down. He opened his eyes and watched his lover drift off to his sleep. It had taken Jared a long while to realize that Jensen actually made himself rest. He didn’t know why, only that Jensen did so, and Jared was grateful that he did.
He loved watching Jensen sleep. His face was a study of peaceful beauty and complete relaxation. It was also the time when Jared was able to watch Jensen’s internal repair system heal whatever injuries Jensen had earned during the day. It had taken Jared years to realize that Jensen had deliberately slowed down this process, and in some cases, completely stopped it from happening.
Jared still remembered the exact moment when he’d realized that Jensen was deliberately aging himself: a year after Jared had returned from Andrea Academy. They had a retiring day and went to sleep early, as Jared’s schedule for the next day was a hectic one. He was half asleep when he saw the dark mole on Jensen’s neck.
It was only when he gently brushed his fingers against it that he realized it wasn’t fading away. Jared couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t like freckles, so Jensen’s repair system should’ve erased it.
But it didn’t.
Jared watched more carefully as the days passed and soon realized Jensen wasn’t completely healing some of his scars. Also, even more obvious were Jensen’s hands which looked as worn as Jared’s. Then he noticed more: they were just little things but so telling that it didn’t take Jared long to realize that Jensen was getting ‘old’.
As if he were human.
Initially, Jared was angry and distressed. Then, he felt loved in a way he couldn’t even vocalize. Jared wanted to tell Jensen how much he appreciated what he was doing, but realized Jensen didn’t tell him because it wasn’t of great importance to him.
So, Jared kept his peace. It’d taken him quite a bit of practice to bite his tongue and not gush in gratitude. But, in time, Jared accomplished it. However, in the quiet of night, he could relax and revel in the love that was given to him so effortlessly.
Jared had seen it before, of course: his parents. And yet, he was completely taken by surprise when he saw that he was receiving the same devotion.
Jared looked at Jensen and grinned. He had no idea when Jensen started sleeping with his mouth open, but it was adorable. Jared kissed Jensen’s nose and closed his eyes. He then remembered something:
“Good night,” Jared said to the people listening in.
Then, he triggered his personal scrambler so he and Jensen could sleep in privacy.
Hertzog huffed a little laugh when he heard Jared’s throwaway remark. “Smart bastard,” he said.
The silent watcher saw the lights in Padalecki’s bedroom dim until only the barest hint of it remained.
He relayed Padalecki’s farewell message to his governor, only to hear Justin’s hearty laugh as a sign-out.
Hertzog’s grin grew broader.
I guess he’s not as modest as he makes himself out to be since he knew we were listening in the entire time. Justin thought. Wonder if he can generate some kind of barrier we can’t penetrate?
Justin mentally kicked himself. Of course Padalecki would come up with such a device. It only made sense: the man was a genius. And his love of privacy was well known. Numerous media circuits constantly invaded Praides, thinking they were going to somehow manage to get an exclusive interview with the quiet inventor. After wandering aimlessly in the desert for few days, they’d come back and try to find someone to introduce them to Jared Padalecki. Unfortunately for them, it was a fruitless exercise since nobody was willing to do the deed.
Justin used to get a good laugh whenever he watched a media report about Jared Padalecki that featured outdated photos and some regurgitated stories that revealed nothing about the scientist-inventor and all about the ineptitude of the media.
After biting back his fifth yawn, Justin opened a small metal pouch and shook out a single pill. It was divided in half: one side is red, the other blue. He placed it under his tongue and grimaced as the bitter taste overwhelmed everything, even the sweet, juicy remnants of the sauce.
Just for a moment he closed his eyes, bracing himself as the medication hit his heart and forced the organ to race faster.
I have no idea who this Edlund guy is, but he makes the best racers, Justin thought, as the artificial stimulant hammered into his system. He took the requisite sixty deep breaths before taking the painkillers. The headaches that inevitably followed had to be quashed. Otherwise, Justin would become useless – something he’d learned the hard way.
The sentinel glanced at the chronos that was synched with those of his people and saw he had two full hours before he would be able to switch with his second.
Justin looked up at the night sky and noticed the clouds roiling like they were going to spill rain.
But it’d be polluted: ash-filled. Guaranteed to choke life out of anything, Justin thought sadly. He’d studied Nerum’s history and felt genuine horror when he learned about the genocidal end to the civilization that was so beautifully presented in the poem, Perdix’s Lament, written by a survivor who later committed suicide as she couldn’t find peace in the fact that she survived while her family did not.
Like most of his fellow miners, Justin had great appreciation of natural beauty, especially when it was blessed with such plentiful waters. And to see it be destroyed so thoroughly seemed obscene, heretical even.
Justin closed his eyes and whispered a little prayer to the wind gods who called his planet their home. He needed their power and their blessings in the coming days.
Though Justin never set foot in a learning center, he had memorized all the prayers of his temple before reaching the age of fifteen. He was self-educated and proud of the achievement. Justin could still remember the first time he could read: it was his name. He’d just celebrated his eleventh birthday and decided to see if he could make sense of the scribbles his parents had insisted was important to his career: a career that did not include mining.
Justin balked when he found out their plans for his future. He wanted to be a miner just like his father. Marcus Hartley made a decent living, earned the respect of other townsfolk, and was feared even by the mining companies’ reps. But the wind-carved man did not want any of his children to inherit his legacy. Instead, he and his second wife drove themselves harder so their children could go off-world.
The tug-of-war between them was fierce, but in the end Justin won. So, he stayed happily behind in order to help his parents.
Still, that pure taste of knowledge as he decoded the mystery of the written world … it was addictive. And his parents encouraged his learning, right up until their mine exploded, taking them and most of their dusty town with it. Justin had survived by pure chance. He was away, trading in a market town in order to get supplies while buying himself a present for his fourteenth birthday.
It was a slaughterhouse he’d returned to. The few who survived were either pinned down by debris or incapable of calling for help. By the time the medic ships and the recovery teams arrived, a town of nearly two hundred people had been decimated to seventeen: a number that systematically decreased in the coming days as the survivors succumbed to their injuries.
Justin watched as the mining companies coldly terminated the contracts they had with the miners, leaving the entire area without means to make a living. So, not only did Justin’s town, Buchaeh, die, but along went their neighbors - Jeju-do, Royan, and Sams.
It was then Justin realized what his father had always known: mining was a killing business. And the corporations didn’t care who paid what price as long as they had inium to fuel their ships.
Justin took to the mountains then. After selling off his mining inheritance for a pittance and borrowing some money from his sister, he was able to start an underground business with the only gift he could sell: his ability to terra-jump.
It had taken him less than a year to gather enough funds to hire a select group of sensei to train him. By the time he reached his eighteenth birthday, he was able to buy himself a ship so he could start finding jobs on other planets.
After putting together his crew, they began making a living by systematically bleeding the central planets any way they could: simple heists on land, payload-switching in space, and later - kidnapping.
And kidnapping was a booming business. In fact, it was so popular as a criminal enterprise, that the corporations had their own negotiators who could guarantee the return of the hostages while not bankrupting their masters.
Justin loved dealing with that group. Reasonable, sane, they knew the game and probably the reasons why the hostages were targeted to begin with. So, after a while Justin was able to pick and choose which job he wanted to do.
He watched as the flickering light told him where Morgan was.
Wonder if the man takes stimulants. Probably not. Soldiers who survived for as long as he has needs none.
Justin continued to stare as the light flickered weakly before dying.
What would be it take to kill a man like that?
Jeff grinned smugly as he watched Justin study the decoy he’d set up before dinner.
The boy thinks he’s smart and maybe he is. But I’m smarter.
He took a walk around the campsite that Justin had established before coming down the hills. It was sparse and the chemical testings had revealed pretty much nothing.
Hartley used enzyme cleaners. Not going to find anything worth looking at if he did what I’d do in his place.
Jeff kicked a few rocks and noted their composition. He picked up the shiny ones and pocketed them. Jeff knew they weren’t from this ridge, which meant they traveled quite a distance or Hartley had a second camp hidden somewhere close.
“Lieutenant?” his comm squawked.
“Yes?” Jeff responded.
“Your two is coming up.”
“Thank you. I’ll take it here: no need to waste precious shut-eye time going back to base.”
“Understood. Hope you have safe sleep.”
“I always do.”
With that remark Jeff hunkered down on the cloying rocks. It took him a while but the soldier managed to find a position comfortable enough to sleep in. He checked the horizon and noted he’d be awake around sunrise.
Wonder if I’ll even see it, with all these clouds and air disturbances.
Jeff was half asleep when he remembered a meteorological phenomenon he’d read earlier. Muttering few choice words, he pulled out a facemask, a hood, and pair of gloves. Though Nerum’s rain didn’t do much damage to artificial gear, it was stringent enough to burn skin.
Don’t remember rain being in the forecast, but I better not take any chances, Jeff noted sourly. He then nestled back into the rocks and fell asleep almost instantly.
Lieutenant Morgan had conditioned himself to the point his body needed only two hours of rest for every full cycle. In times of combat, that could be pared down to one for weeks with a two-day sleep cycle triggered by chemicals at the end. A lot of men couldn’t function with any capacity and some had gone insane trying to achieve this level of sleep deprivation, but Jeff managed.
That was his special talent.
Jeff wasn’t an exceptional soldier. He wasn’t the best shot; Chris was. He couldn’t read people like Steve. But no matter how hard life had gotten: Jeff managed. He would rise from the ashes like a well-armed Lazarus, grinning and mostly untouched, physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Some societies would deem him a monster. Some would call him blessed. But all needed men like him and paid handsomely to keep him in their stables.
Dunrea looked at the broiling black sky and wondered if it really was morning. He had no idea how much he’d trusted the sun to mark his days until he had none. Even on Arctica I, where the sun was too weak to be seen by the human eye, there were artificial lights simulating daytime so the miners and the settlers didn’t suffer.
He rolled back the cuffs of his tunic and studied his wrists. The implants weren’t visible amongst his tattoos and once more the Senator was glad that the doctors had cooperated with the artists responsible for the intricate artwork on his entire body.
The Senator lightly grazed a slight bump and felt the trigger.
Wouldn’t want to accidentally hit my wrist and explode, Dunrea thought sarcastically. He then examined the one on the right pinkie. That little sac contained a toxin that allowed him to fool most anyone into thinking that he was dead.
Of course, there were a few who’d know otherwise, and if they reached in him time they could revive Dunrea.
However, his favorite was what was known as ‘death hand’. The implant was on the heel of his right hand, and if he activated the gland, it would secrete a poison through his skin and onto any surface he touched. Dunrea had been ingesting that specific neurotoxin most of his adult life, so he’d built immunity to it. That went true for most of his family. They were well-versed in warfare as they were from a long line of monks who, on many occasions, were called to fight.
Dunrea remembered a life where he had two names: Frederic Lehne. But that name died when his family was killed by the private security firm guarding a mining corporation. A corporation that didn’t like the fact that they were sharing profits with single-family miners.
After few unfortunate explosions, they managed to convince the surviving families to relinquish their shares of the mining profits and leave without filing a complaint.
Lehne’s family did not, and they paid a heavy price.
Frederic, a boy of nine, was adopted into the local temple his family belonged to and became an acolyte. His unusual ability in the linguistic field quickly garnished him notice. He received a concentrated form of education which allowed him to enter a tech at the unheard age of thirteen.
After his academic stint, Frederic was assigned to Aban I and rose in rank amongst the temple elders until he became Supreme Councilor. After attaining that enviable rank, he was nominated to be their military leader when the Conflict began and Aban I announced their allegiance to the Central Planets.
Dunrea’s dour look turned vulpine as he remembered his bloody victories.
Oh, we’re so good at that, though. So, so very good at spilling blood and then moping it up afterwards.
His fingers twitched as he watched the small ball slide right under the skin. To anyone else it looked like a small pus.
I wonder whom I’ll use it on, Dunrea wondered. He didn’t exactly know why he implanted the poison, but he had never done it and not used it.
Dunrea had a clear memory of how it worked. It was a neurotoxin that immediately paralyzed the central nervous system before shutting down all respiratory process. The victim would be dead by the time anyone noticed their distress.
The Senator wondered if he’d use it on Padalecki, and if it would have any detrimental effect on the hybrid.
Dunrea closed his eyes and imagined all the possibilities dangling in front of him like stars.
I never understood ‘war at any cost’ argument. So, is peace at any cost any more acceptable?
Dunrea sighed and rolled down the sleeves. He looked at the mass of comms spread on the table and the bed. All telling him what he needed to do, some in harsh orders to mask unconquerable fears. Some in pleading tones – mostly by parents who’d lost children in the Conflict or other skirmishes with the colonials.
A gentle knock on the door broke him from his trance. Dunrea shook his head firmly and gathered his thoughts.
Time to play god, Dunrea thought. Time to be a hero again.
Dunrea opened the door and gave a nod to Deol to enter. Henry stepped aside and gave a bow as a way of greeting. “The meeting is about to commence. Here are the initial points.”
Dunrea took a negligible glance. “Unless Nora has gone mad since last night, nothing’s changed.”
Henry gave a thin smile. “I personally think we’ve all gone insane but that’s just my opinion.”
Dunrea slapped Henry on his shoulder. “A little bit of delusion would serve you well today.”
“I shall do my best to summon it,” Henry said dryly. “But I thought you’d like to know the hybrid is in the room alongside Padalecki.”
Dunrea grimaced but showed no real surprise. “I should’ve treated him better yesterday.”
“We all should have,” Henry agreed sourly. “Something tells me we did not earn Padalecki’s good grace by sticking his consort in the kitchen.”
“But that’s where the thing usually presides,” Dunrea said. “Of course, he also attends all important meetings.”
“And before you ask, he’s cleared all the scans.”
“Of course it did,” Dunrea said. “I wonder what Morgan thinks about the creature.”
“He’s vastly amused,” Henry said. “I suspect he knows something he’s not telling us. I wonder why.”
“I trust Jeff,” Dunrea said. “He has the habit of finding out every dirty detail on a subject then not saying anything when it doesn’t serve his purpose.”
“From his soldiering days, I presume?”
“No, he always had that habit,” Dunrea answered. He took a deep breath and flipped through all the missives again. “So, the hue and cry has begun.”
“Perceptibly.”
“Then let us see what can be gotten from this mess that Noah has left behind.”
Jared glanced at the closed doors and at Hartley who looked like he’d been floating in stimulants for a while. He then noticed Jensen whose attention was wholly focused on Morgan’s men. Jared studied them: combat-hardened soldiers, all too familiar as people like these men walked the streets of Praides every day.
One of them looked at Jensen. “Can I help you?”
“What is your name?” Jensen asked.
Jared was startled that Jensen would so boldly question a complete stranger from the Senator’s entourage, but kept his peace out of curiosity.
“Christian Kane.”
“Thank you,” Jensen answered and then turned away.
The Praetorian Guard looked slightly puzzled by Jensen’s abrupt dismissal but didn’t say anything else. His partner smirked at him but said nothing also.
His curiosity now fully needled, Jared studied rest of the group with great deal more subtlety and finally realized Jensen was becoming nervous. It hadn’t been often that Jared had seen Jensen in such a state, but in the current setting Jared had to accept the fact that Jensen was capable of processing what he was seeing with greater efficiency than his human counterparts.
Dunrea swept into the room, looking completely unconcerned with the monumental task ahead.
“Good morning,” Dunrea said cordially. “First off, thank you for attending what I know is a sudden not to mention dangerous meeting.
“Please take your seat.”
Jensen remained seated next to Jared so if anyone was assigned to that particular position, they had to plan otherwise.
The group swiftly took places around the table that took up half the room. The oval stonework was chipped from the very foundation and couldn’t be moved. Jared was sure there was a religious significance attached to it and sadly wondered if Grace or Peter knew of its history.
Dunrea handed out stacks of comms and each member took one.
“I have arranged as much as possible all the points of discussion from us,” he said. “I’ve anticipated some from yours, but I’m quite sure it’s nowhere near enough.”
Padalecki screened through the list and said, “I do have few additions.”
A dull roar echoed through the stone-encased room. It wasn’t sharp or particularly loud but the sound was designed to trigger primal response in humans.
“What’s happened?” Dunrea asked Morgan who immediately plugged into his wrist comm.
“Excuse me,” the lieutenant said and stepped out of the room followed by Hartley. Kane remained along with his cohort. Rainier, member of Hartley’s team, inched closer to Jared. However, it was Jensen who made the initial move.
He stood up and leaned over to Jared. “We have to get out,” he whispered. “This is a trap.”
Jared gave a cool nod and stood up. “I see. Of course, how could I have forgotten?”
Kane frowned. “Forgotten what?”
“Hartley had told us what to do in certain scenarios,” Jared replied. To his relief, his team didn’t bat an eye when he gave his reply. “And we must obey protocol.”
With that remark he followed Jensen who hurriedly walked towards the exit. Rainier stood next to the entrance and didn’t bother to hide his hostility as he eyed Dunrea’s team.
It was Kane who shot first and his aim was flawless. Rainier didn’t have any time to press the panic alarm as he crumpled to the floor. Chris’ second shot took down Pangborn but he missed Kreuk when she made a tight, sidestep to her left. And before Chris had chance to fire again, Kristin was out of the room.
Not wasting precious seconds Dunrea’s delegates swiftly exited the room using the second entrance. Chris managed to shoot Nora and Didier, but Deol and Dunrea were ahead of all of them so he didn’t get either man.
Chris’ upper lip curled up in frustration. He hit his link and said, “We’ve got a mess.”
“I got them on the tracker,” Jeff said. “They’re not going anywhere.”
“Which one do you want me go after?”
“Neutralize Hartley’s team first,” Jeff ordered. “Then we’ll do a systematic sweep and get the others.”
“Understood,” Chris said. He took out a slim black metallic barrel and attached it to his gun. He flashed the sight and a red point appeared on the opposite wall, twice its usual size. Satisfied with his weapon’s new blast range, Chris bolted out of the room.
Part II * Part IV
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Date: 2010-06-23 03:23 pm (UTC)You've seriously got me at the edge of my seat!