Kidnapped

The Infinitum Government controls the stars. Countless planets, thousands of races, and a whole mess of problems between them. The greatest problem at the moment is a genetically engineered race being threatened with destrcution, a race with an ability that threatens to change the stars. But between escaped convicts, missing prison guards, rebellion, and space pirates, it's all too easy to miss the real problem.

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The Jewels of Bangkok | Different From Kidnapping | Heartstone | No Matter What | Business Arrangement | Sleeping Beauties

 

 

Prologue

Planet 5118208 (rehab), Rehabilitation Center 6.2

Prisoner: Mendel Ekard
Serial #: 418.171.514
Race: Draconis/human
Age: 27 HY
Sex: Male
Ht: Type c
Wt: Type b

Unique Features: *scales (Green/gold)
*magics capable
*Violent
Special notes: *mateless - keep isolated

Crime(s): *Patricide - Convicted
*Homicide - suspected
*Illegal use of magics
*Resisting arrest
Sentence: permanent solitary confinement

"Draconis? I've heard about them. Supposed to be really strong. Never seen one though." Sean spoke idly, more from boredom than actual interest. He'd never seen most of the prisoners in the facility before they arrived. It stopped being interesting after the first six months.

The woman at the lobby desk sounded very interested however, "You've never seen a Draconis? Mmm, you're in for a treat then. Is it a full-blood or a half-breed?"

Sean looked back down at the file. "Half. Says here he's part human."

"I saw one on the Report once, she was half-human as well. I bet the full Draconis don't look half so pretty as the human cross-breeds."

Beside Sean another guard rolled his eyes, "You're ridiculous, Tiffany. A prisoner is a prisoner. Nothing to get excited about."

Tiffany made a face, "Stop trying to sound so jaded, Cyan. Or do I need to bring up the incident with the Fornarian two terms ago?"

Cyan glared at her, dove gray eyes narrowed. "It would be that incident which has made me, as you say, jaded. I prefer 'older and wiser,' thanks so much." He snapped his gaze away and returned to his magazine.

"Knock it off, both of you. What's the big deal with this?" Sean angled the file toward his partner and pointed to a line of text.

Cyan shrugged, "Draconis are supposed to be more powerful when they get a mate. And no one knows just how exactly they pick mates so it's best if they're kept away from as many people as possible. That's why we've only got five guards assisting when normally we'd have ten."

"Mate?"

"Yeah, that's what they call them." Cyan pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Basically it's a person or creature with whom they're magically compatible. They find a mate? Their magics increase in strength like three times or more. Depends on how strong or weak the Draconis is to start with, I think. Personally I don't see what the big deal is. Magics capable beings aren't allowed to work here, and we're not getting him anywhere near the other prisoners. But I guess you never know." He shrugged.

Tossing the file on the low table in front of him, Sean snorted and folded his arms behind his head. He leaned back and propped his feet on the table beside the file. "Stupid. If he's half as dangerous as rumors say, we're going to need more than five people to haul him to solitary confinement."

"Hardly. Given he's magics capable I'd say he's got a numbing collar on." Cyan glanced at the clock, "And we're about to find out. Prisoner is due in about twenty minutes, best get moving. Which dock is he landing at?"

Sean scooped up the file as he climbed to his own feet with a yawn, blue eyes skimming the file. "Six.." Absently he reached to smooth down his short, brown hair, and then adjusted his complicated-looking military style jacket. A multitude of keys, cards, and security clearance bands were fastened to it.

"Right. Let's get going. By the time he's locked up it'll be time for dinner. Want to take the express to Mars and eat at home?

"Sure, why not? Ah, but remind me to stop off at my place after dinner to pick up a new in-lens." Sean pressed fingers against his left eye, blinking several times as if trying to clear his vision. "This one has about had it."

"Right. Now move it before we get busted for slacking off." Cyan dragged him onto the transport and keyed in the code for Dock Six.

A moment later their arrival was greeted by a displeased grunt from their captain. "It's about damn time you two got here."

"We're not late," Cyan said dismissively. "Sir."

Captain Waters glared and twirled his thick mustache. "Given what's arriving, I would have thought you'd get here early."

"Yes, sir."

Waters only grunted again. "Fall in. We're receiving a top-level prisoner today and I swear to heaven if anything gets botched it will be your skins. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," four voices rang sharply out. Cyan and Sean fell into place directly opposite the other two prison guards. Nods and greetings were briefly exchanged as they watched a ship pull slowly into the docking bay.

Sean sighed and watched the ship, making note of the elaborate weaponry that most prisoner transports preferred to avoid - transporters must've been short handed. "What the hell makes this guy so all fired special? He's not the only one in here to have killed someone. Most have done a lot worse." He looked questioningly at the guys across from him.

The one directly across from him shrugged disinterestedly. "He's Draconis. From what I hear, they're causing all kinds of fuss in the IG these days."

"Enough chatting, ladies." Captain Waters barked.

Silence descended as the ship pulled in. Minutes later the door opened and a ramp was extended up. A man appeared wearing a dark blue uniform simple in cut and design - a far cry from the heavy, black and key-bedecked uniforms worn by the rehab guards.

Stifling a yawn, Sean watched as another guard appeared and the two stepped out onto the ramp, dragging another figure behind them with heavy chains. He blinked. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should stop staring…but he didn't much care.

The scales should have looked odd, should have looked strange or wrong - like a body tattoo that was garish rather than artistic. But these were stunning…beautiful even. Gold-green scales ran all down the back of the man's arms, stopping just past his wrists. They also ran down portions of his chest and all down his back - the fact that he was bare-chested emphasized just how dangerous the prisoner really was. But he wasn't naked, as the highest-risk prisoners arrived. More of the small, glistening scales curved along his cheekbones and brushed just below his eyes.

No wonder Tiffany had said they were something to look at. Six years he'd worked at the prison center. He thought he'd seen everything of real interest. This proved him so very wrong.

He was also tall - definitely Type C. And slender; he certainly wasn't out of shape…but it wasn't the build you would expect of a killer, especially one who had done a good job fighting off the authorities.

Sean sucked in a sharp breath when the man's head turned in his direction and he found himself staring into eyes that made him think of the grass on his old family home that had been torn up when his father sold it. A shade you just didn't see when surrounded by machinery and endless rows of prison cells.

Later on, when he'd time to think back on it, he still would never quite be able to remember what exactly happened.

One minute he and the prisoner were staring at each other, the next all he remembered was shouting and being surrounded by heat. A rough voice ordering him to hold still as he fought to break away from that overwhelming heat. A pounding, drilling pain in his head, soothed by intermittent glances from grass-green eyes. Then nothing.

 

Sean woke up with a low moan, immediately assaulted by strange smells and the feel of unfamiliar fabrics beneath him. Groggily he forced his eyes open, wincing as the bright light overhead momentarily made the room spin. "What…" he closed his eyes again as he sat up, fingers gripping rough fabric in an attempt to find balance.

A deep, rough voice broke into his disordered thoughts. "Are you all right?"

"Fine…" Slowly Sean once more tried to open his eyes, and found he was staring down at a floor that had seen much better days. Lifting his gaze, he traveled up the length of scuffed boots and black pants…to a chest decked with gold-green scales…resting finally on grass green eyes staring intently back.

That rumbling voice again, "Are you certain? I did not mean to cause you such harm…it was difficult escaping."

"What…" Sean faltered and fell silent. He tried again, once his voice was more stable. "What happened? What's going on?"

The Draconis frowned, as if not certain what to say. "I…escaped."

"And you needed me to do it? You should've taken Cyan; he loves these kinds of stories. Even if he says otherwise."

"Cyan? Do you mean one of the other guards? He could not have helped me."

"Why did you snatch me? You realize once they find us, you're going to be put to death right? Damn, my head hurts."

"You really don't know, do you? What happened?"

"No. I don't. I know you escaped and took me with you, and that apparently you can heal…where is your numbing collar?"

Grass green eyes slid cautiously his way, as if the Draconis didn't know what to say. "It was only set to the level of my old magics, not my new magics, so I was able to break it."

"New magics? What exactly is going on here?" Irritably Sean stood up and moved restlessly around the room. He supposed he could just make a break for it; shouldn't be too hard. Or he could use his In-lens to contact someone…except when he tried to turn it on the damn thing wouldn't cooperate. At least the blocker he'd imbedded in it was still functioning. Otherwise he'd be in all sorts of trouble when they found him.

He glanced at his silent kidnapper. Who certainly wasn't acting like a rampaging murderer bent on escape. Struck him more as just someone who was horribly confused. He fumbled for something to say, and recalled the file he'd read earlier. "Your name is Mendel, right?"

The Draconis nodded, "Yes. Mendel Ekard. I was a…what you would call a scholar, I think, on my planet. I study the Draconis."

Not like a murderer at all. Sean was feeling more and more lost. "So how did you break free? No one's ever broken out of Rehab. Not that I remember anyway. And why take me? Having me along while you escape is only going to create more problems for you."

"You're my mate."

Sean blinked, pausing where he'd been examining the sealed window. The latch was broken, he noted absently. He turned to face Mendel. "I'm your what?"

"My mate." Mendel frowned, "I was surprised…magics capable are not allowed to work on rehabilitation planets."

That made Sean freeze. "How…how did you know I'm magics capable? My blocker is still in place." He pressed his fingers to his left eye, feeling the broken in-lens there. "I mean the Information lens itself is broken, but the blocker is still functioning…oh shit…" he sat down hard on the ground. His voice went faint, "The others…do they know what happened? Why you kidnapped me?"

"I'd imagine so."

Sean laughed weakly, face pale. "Shit!" He buried his head in his hands. "That means they know I'm magics capable. I'm dead."

"Because you're magics capable?" Mendel asked.

"Yes!" Sean replied, all but shouting, trying to quell his panic.

Mendel shook his head. "They cannot simply kill you for that, surely…."

"Humans aren't magics capable. We can't be. If we start developing magics, the IG itself will suffer."

Mendel moved to sit near him on the floor. "So why are you magics capable? Genetic tampering was outlawed centuries ago in this quadrant."

"Yeah, but genetic mutations can't be helped," Sean slumped back against the wall, suddenly weary. "My parents and doctor figured it out pretty damn fast, and they used Blockers on me before I could even walk. Haven't been without one since."

Mendel tilted his head. "You're a mutation?"

"Yep. And a dead one, once they find us."

That upset the Draconis. "Why dead?"

"Because humanity's greatest strength is its inability to use magics. Humans control the IG, because those who can't use magics can't be affected by them either. Which means that any magics capable human must be wiped out. The minute we start developing that ability, we lose all those precious high places." He glanced down at his hands, laying idly in his lap. "That's why I got a job on Earth. It was hard…but it's the last place anyone would expect to find a magics capable human."

"Earth?"

"The old name for this planet. Obsolete now that it's just a rehab center, but some of us on Mars still use it."

A calloused hand reached hesitantly out to touch Sean's, gold-green scales dusting the area around the wrist. The skin was a bit darker than Sean's own, as if the Draconis had a slight tan. Mendel's touch was warm, almost hot, recalling to Sean's mind the distant, fuzzy memory when his head had exploded with pain and all he knew was heat and green eyes. He opened his own hand, accepting the comfort offered.

He looked up into impossibly green eyes. "So what's all this mate stuff? I know as much about Draconis as you do about humans. Probably less, in fact."

Mendel shifted closer so that he could sit more comfortably while their hands were entwined. "Mate, I think, is the wrong word. At least the way most people use it." He frowned. "I think a better translation of the term is 'match,' but that is ever a topic of debate."

"But what is it exactly? I was only ever told that it has something to do with increasing your magics."

"Genetic tampering is illegal in three of the four primary quadrants. My planet is the main reason it's now forbidden in my quadrant. More specifically, my race is the reason."

"Draconis are genetically engineered."

"Yes." His smile faded, grip on Sean's hand unconsciously tightening. "We were created by the Conis to serve as…living energy supplies? I suppose that's the best way to phrase it. Conis by nature do not possess very strong magics. Rather, they posses the skill but not the strength?"

That Sean was familiar with, "Right, like the Fornarians. Some say they've got great potential for powerful magics - but their bodies are too minimalist to handle more than what they have."

"Exactly," Mendel bobbed his head, smiling approvingly. Sean suddenly believed the man was a scholar. Somehow they all acted the same, no matter what planet they were from. "But even the Conis weren't foolish enough to alter their own genetic makeup. So they went about creating an outside supply of the strength they needed."

"Let me guess. Something went wrong?"

Mendel laughed. "Yes. They used a variety of different creatures to get what they wanted, including a special type of magics capable lizard found on Coni."

"That would explain the scales," Unthinkingly Sean reached out with his other hand to touch the scales at Mendel's wrist. They shone in the weak light of the room, glinting that strange gold-green. He froze when he realized what he was doing. "Sorry."

The Draconis shook his head, "It does not bother me…I am only surprised that you would touch me - or have anything to do with me."

Sean looked at their entwined hands, then up at him. "Something tells me I should wait to do anything until I hear all about this mate thing. Or match." He shrugged. "And you haven't done anything out of line yet."

Mendel only nodded, and continued his explanation. "To answer your question, yes, that's where the scales come from. And our odd coloring." He indicated his hair, the same light gold as his skin. "It's also where we got our name. It was humans that gave the name to us, did you know? The Conis only ever called us 'energy.' Visiting human dignitaries were the ones that called us 'Draconis' and told us about dragons."

"Somehow I'm not surprised. I guess that got buried along with everything else about your creation."

"Yes. Because by the time we got that name, we were already far more than we should have been. Rather than merely supplying energy, we had become magics capable ourselves. Another flaw in the design emerged as well. The earliest Draconis had been designed to work only for specific Conis; it was something of a safety feature, I think." His brow furrowed in thought. "We weren't supposed to be able to reproduce. Everything sort of went awry."

"Sounds like it was a lot worse than that."

Mendel sighed, "To the Conis, it was. Not only could we reproduce and use magics…the design that enabled us to only work for one particular Conis backfired. Instead of just the Conis getting stronger when paired with us…we got stronger as well when paired off. A lot stronger."

"I remember that. Cyan said your strength increases by at least threefold. How is that possible?"

"Because when we find the person with whom we're compatible, the original design as energy providers…activates, I guess you would say. I naturally match with your magics, and give you all the energy you need to use them…the flaw appears in that it cycles back to me, and makes me stronger so that I can match your new strength, to make you stronger…"

Sean whistled, "I see. A sort of energy cycle. But doesn't it get out of control at some point?"

"No, the increase only goes as high as we can take it. It sort of balances out eventually. You were unconscious during all of it. It's why your head hurts though, and don't be surprised to find that you have new magics - I experimented briefly while you slept, and know that I've acquired healing magics from you."

Nodding, Sean replied. "Yeah, that's one of mine. Only minor healing though…I'd probably be stronger if I was able to use it but I haven't tried using my magics in years. It's just too dangerous…though I guess I have time now, don't I?"

Mendel's face fell, flooded with guilt. "I'm sorry…I saw you and didn't think. I just took the chance offered."

"Which reminds me - how is it we haven't been found yet?" Sean freed his hands from Mendel's and carefully removed the in-lens from his eye. "Guess I don't need this anymore," he couldn't help the happy sigh as he felt his magics stir, freed from the constraints of the Blocker.

Beside him Mendel seemed happier as well. "It's much easier to feel you with that thing gone."

"Feel me?"

"You can't feel it?"

"I'm not used to feeling my own magic, never mind whatever it is you're talking about." Sean frowned, realizing that wasn't true. He could feel something…his magic seemed different. Always before it was a slight tingle at the edge of his senses…now it seemed more to thrum, like it was begging to be set loose. The longer he concentrated on it, the more pronounced it was. Surging free after being Blocked so long?

He closed his eyes, pouring all his focus into it. Trace the pulsing feel of it, like a thought he couldn't quite grasp but knew would come back to him eventually. And something else, intertwined…a new strength, the reason it vibrated rather than tingled. His eyes opened, and he looked at Mendel. "That's you?"

"Yes."

Sean closed his eyes again, focusing on the pain that still lingered in his head. It vanished. Slowly he opened them. "So what do we do now?" he said at last. "With you being a convicted killer and me being an unwanted mutation and all. I suppose this is where I ask if you really did kill him? And we go on some crusade to prove your innocence?"

"No, I killed him." His face darkened.

"Oh." An awkward silence fell. "You don't really seem much like a killer."

Mendel shrugged, anger giving way to misery. Unthinkingly Sean reached out and once more twined their hands together. The Draconis held his hand tightly, and some of his tension seemed to melt away. "I didn't mean to…my father was human, my mother is Draconis."

He looked at Sean, then around the room. "My mother is matched with a Conis, which is less common these days, oddly enough. That was another unexpected development, our being able to match with other races. Anyway…she's matched with a Conis, but she loved my dad. A lot. He didn't return the feeling."

Sean squeezed his hand, smiling when the gesture was returned.

Mendel continued. "My father was an assistant to the Infinitum Government's ambassador on Coni, and my mother was their liaison on Coni, so I actually saw him quite a bit. Though for many years I had no idea who he really was. That was quite the revelation, especially given what I'd just learned…"

"Which was?"

Mendel's face filled with rage again, grip on Sean tightening. He only relented when the other man gasped in pain. "My apologies," he brushed the back of his hand with his thumb.

"I'm fine. Continue. What did you learn?"

"That there is good chance my race will be annihilated. We're too dangerous. Except…"

"Except?"

"Well, we do have a lot of potential, don't we? If the flaws could be worked out, we'd be an incredible benefit to anyone magics capable."

Sean grimaced. "Yeah, I can see where this is going. I'm guessing you weren't going to be in solitaire for very long."

"No. I'm sure after the noise died down they would have taken me to the only quadrant where genetic tampering is still allowed."

"Where does your father fit into this?"

Anger once more flickered over Mendel's face, but this time it was laced with pain. "He was one of the heads of the project."

Sean felt ill. Without stopping to think he shifted forward and embraced the Draconis, the same way his mother had held him when he was a child and couldn't understand why being magics capable would get him killed.

Mendel clearly hadn't been expecting the gesture, as he started and began to pull away. But almost immediately he stopped, and held still. As if not certain what to do. Jerkily, his arms came up and folded around Sean, his head dropped to lay against his shoulder.

Sean didn't think he'd ever felt so warm in his life. It wasn't an oppressive heat either, like working in the middle of summer or early fall when they had to switch to the thermal uniforms even though it wasn't quite cold enough for them. No, this was more a soothing heat. Like stepping inside his home unit after a day of wall duty in the middle of winter, when the warmth just washed over him. But even better than that. He couldn't explain it; just knew he could easily become addicted to it.

Several minutes later he reluctantly broke the silence. "So why has no one found us yet?"

Mendel seemed just as reluctant to move. "Probably because we're so far away. It took me quite some time to travel this far, especially as I was pushing the limit on my new magics, but it's far enough that finding us will take them quite some time."

Something finally clicked in Sean's head, and he pulled away slightly. The room they were in registered. "We're in the residential sector! That's on the opposite side of the planet! Did you use the transporters? How?"

"New magics. Teleport - another one of yours. I just went on instinct after I got free. Just kept going until I found a place that seemed mostly free of guards and cages. Wore me out though. I woke up not much before you did."

Sean frowned. "Teleport magics? I was never capable of that before."

"Are you certain?"

"…I suppose not. I wonder what other tricks are in my bag."

"What?"

"I mean, I wonder what other skills I have that I'm unaware of."

"Ah. I'm still learning all my new magics, obviously. But I would imagine your magics are all protective in nature, as are most of mine."

Sean nodded. "I guess it wouldn't make much sense for me to be your…match if we had clashing magics. Erm…how exactly does this whole match thing work?"

Mendel tilted his head, grass-colored eyes confused. "Work?"

"Yeah, I mean…do we always have to be together? Is there something we have to do to make our magics work? What?"

"Ah. Mostly it means that we aren't magics capable without each other. We're much stronger than we would have been otherwise, but we're also reliant upon one another now."

"Meaning what? I don't get it."

Mendel absently ran his fingers up and down his spine; it was a moment before Sean even realized it, so natural did the gesture seem. The Draconis continued, "Nothing much really changes." He seemed to hesitate, "It's only that…if one of us dies so will the other. If the living one manages to somehow survive, then he will no longer be magics capable."

That brought Sean to a halt, and he froze in their loose embrace. "Die?" his voice cracked. For the first time he felt the stirrings of anger, though he distantly realized it was more panic. Didn't really care. He jerked away, ignoring the fact that he suddenly felt cold. "You mean if you die, I will too? But! How is that fair? Why am I being dragged into this? I was happy the way I was. Even if I had to hide, I was hap…" Just like that his flare of rage folded, killed by the harsh fact that he hadn't been happy. All his life he'd had to hide what he was, and even if it meant he was now in danger, he wasn't hiding anymore.

Well, he was. But it was a different sort of hiding. He looked up at Mendel, guilt flushing his cheeks as he took in the shadow lurking in those grass green eyes. Unable to think of anything better to do, he once more wrapped his arms around the Draconis, this time straddling the man, burying his head in his throat and pressing as close to that overwhelming heat as he could. That he could handle, just drowning in the warmth and letting it thaw the cold fear freezing his veins.

A soft, surprised gasp was Mendel's only reaction, before he again wrapped his arms around Sean, stroking his back as he had earlier. They fell into a silence that should have been awkward.

Sean stirred several minutes later, but didn't move from the embrace. His voice was soft, as if trying to avoid breaking the quiet more than necessary. "So what do we do now?"

"For starters, I suppose we need to get off this planet." Mendel's replied, his voice just as whisper-soft.

"Easier said than done." Reluctantly Sean sat up, staring at Mendel. "They're going to have everything locked down until they find us. Residential has the most off-planet transports but they're as well guarded as the Center's."

Mendel just laughed. "Have you ever been to them?"

"Of course."

"Then can't we just simply teleport to them?"

That made Sean frown, "I'm not sure…wait…how did you get us here? You've never been on Earth before."

"Instinct. The match connects us, so on some level I just knew from you where to go. Only to a point. If you'd been awake, I probably could have found your home…though that would have been unwise."

"Yeah, it would've been." Sean sighed. "Even teleporting, there's all kinds of problems to surmount. But pretending we get past all that, and actually get away from here. What then? Where do we go?" he groaned in frustration and dropped his head back to Mendel's shoulders. "I'm not so sure I'm cut out for this refugee thing."

Warm fingers stroked his back, up and down his spine, occasionally lingering at his neck, just touching the ends of his brown hair. "There are Draconis who would help us, if we could get to them." A breath of laughter. "I guess that's the hard part though. Well…if we can get off this planet and to somewhere relatively safe, I can contact someone I know will help."

"Who's that?"

Sean could feel him smiling as he replied, "My mother."

That wasn't what he'd been expecting. "But…she's not upset with you for killing him?"

"Not when I told her why I did. I was able to speak with her before they came after me…" his voice grew heavy, tired as he recounted the events that had led to his arrest. "I hadn't actually meant to kill him…I just wanted to talk to him. To know why he was doing it…especially considering my mother. I shouldn't have…but several others and I have been investigating for ages. And when I found out he was part of it, I just snapped."

His grip on Sean tightened, almost to the point of pain. Not sure what else to do, Sean just held him close. After a moment, Mendel continued. "I only meant to…I don't know…knock some sense into him. Make him see reason. It just hurt. Then when I realized he was dead, I just fled. Straight for my mother. She's wonderful…I wouldn't have blamed her for turning me in. But she didn't. She even tried to help me escape. I'd hate to drag her back into it…but I don't see any other choice."

"We'll just have to work hard to find somewhere else to hide after we're on our feet." Sean sat up again. "Funny how easy it is to say 'we.' It should feel strange."

Mendel looked at him, a softness slowly replacing the haunted look in his eyes. "I guess it should. I am sorry for inadvertently dragging you down with me."

"Nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do it on purpose. I was bored anyway. I've never left my own system, never mind my own quadrant. So it'll be interesting if nothing else." Curiosity won out as he continued to stare at Mendel, and he reached tentatively up to touch the scales that ran under his eyes and along his cheekbones. He was surprised to find them as warm as the rest of his skin; for some reason he thought they'd be cool.

A soft chuckle broke his reverie; he flushed and dropped his hand. "Sorry."

"It does not bother me." Mendel's eyes were alight with amusement. "Most people are curious about them. Humans especially, though I never understood quite why."

"That's easy," Sean grinned and once more examined the scales with his fingers, entranced by the shiny gold-green color. "You remind us of dragons. It's neat."

"Yes, it's where our name comes from. But I've read all about them, and heard several stories from the humans visiting our planet. It doesn't seem terribly captivating a thing to me."

"I guess it's a human thing." His hand started to move from scales to hair, and he froze as he realized what he was doing. And it finally hit him just how close he was to the Draconis, and how…personal their position was. Still it didn't seem strange or uncomfortable, just…he wasn't usually so friendly with strangers. But the entire situation had been bizarre from the moment they locked eyes. That was the one thing he did remember in all the confusion. He looked at them again, those eyes the color of a time and place of comfort that no longer existed.

Disconcerting, how much better he felt staring into them.

"You look confused."

Sean shook his head. "Overwhelmed, more like. Don't you find it so, to be hiding away in a strange place with a stranger on your lap? Groping your face no less?"

That surprised a laugh out of Mendel, and Sean found he liked the sound of the Draconis laughing. "Groping? Hardly that. I've children do much worse than this to me." He reached up with his own hand to stroke Sean's forehead and cheeks, touch soft and light and so very warm. His hand wandered to brush briefly through strands of his soft, brown hair. "And after all the events that led me this far?" He shrugged. "It's not that bad. I would have preferred to find you by simpler means, but this is better than never having found you at all."

"I don't understand."

Mendel dropped his eyes briefly, and then looked up again. "I suppose it's another part of the design. Until a certain age, Draconis are more or less matched with their mothers. It's the best way to teach us how to use magics. But once we reach a certain age, we're on our own. It never feels quite right, being matchless. I guess…the best way to describe it is to say it's sort of like always being hungry. Or perhaps like you've misplaced something and can't find it. Once we find a match, everything falls into place. That's probably why most prefer to translate the term as 'mate.'"

"That makes sense. It's certainly an easy relationship to romanticize."

"It's not unusual for such a thing to occur."

"For what to occur?"

The Draconis looked away, staring blankly at the rest of the room. "Romance. There's always some sort of bond between matches, beyond the magics one. Sometimes it's familial, other times it's a friendship, like my mother's. And then at times it's romantic."

Sean blinked, suddenly realizing why Mendel wasn't looking at him - he was embarrassed.

But the Draconis continued speaking before he could think of anything to say. His cheeks were dusted pink, and he finally looked back at the man in his lap, "My mother teased me when I was younger, because I'd always hoped that's what mine would be. She said I spent too much time studying. Then I was busy with investigating rumors of plans to wipe the Draconis out, and put aside hopes of finding a match. And after I was arrested I gave them up all together."

"Oh," Sean breathed, silent for a long moment. Then he smiled faintly, bringing his hands up to brush his thumbs over the scales on Mendel's cheeks. "I'm guessing you don't see me as much of a brother."

The pink darkened on Mendel's cheeks, "No." His hands rest lightly, hesitantly, on Sean's hips. "I guess it's not a very appropriate thing for me to say right now. So suddenly."

"Well…" Sean hesitated for a heartbeat, then dipped his head to brush his lips against Mendel's. He meant for it to be just a brief touch…but more of that fabulous heat beckoned him, and he pressed their lips more firmly together, searching for and finding that marvelous heat. His fingers tangled in Mendel's hair as he deepened the no longer cautious kiss, taking as much of the warmth as he could, it tasted faintly of whatever fruit-based juice they'd given him on his flight in. Mendel was familiar and new all at once, and Sean realized he was addicted.

Breathless, he pulled away. "That's probably more inappropriate," he grinned.

Mendel looked dazed; he shook it off with effort. "Ah…I'm not going to complain. I was expecting you to kill me, or turn me in, when you woke up. Not…this."

"Well if I'm your match, or mate, or whatever, I suppose it's best if we get along." Sean allowed himself a moment to enjoy the feel of Mendel's hair, thick and soft in his hands. Then he shook himself, and forced himself to stand. "But we'll have to work out details later. If we don't start working on our escape now, we'll lose our chance. It's best if we go while they still think we're somewhere in 6.2. Hopefully it will take them an age to realize we're in 10."

The Draconis blinked at him, then nodded and accepted Sean's hand up.

Sean grinned, "I suppose we should get you a shirt or something. I'd lend my jacket but you're skinnier and taller than me so it wouldn't really fit." He tapped his chin, "I wonder if we have time to run to my home unit and grab a few things."

"We should. Especially if we can teleport there." He smiled when Sean looked wary, "You can do it. It's your inherent ability, so you'll be better than I am."

"Right. Except I haven't tried to use my magics for years." He frowned at Mendel's quiet chuckle. "Okay so I healed myself a little while ago…but teleport magics? And two people at that." Grass green eyes were warm and reassuring as they stared back at him. "Oh, all right. So what do you do? Just stand there? Or do you need to hold onto me?"

Mendel gave another quiet chuckle. "It works best if I hold on."

"All right." They clasped hands, and seeing his uncertainty Mendel wrapped his free arm around his waist. Sean closed his eyes a moment, feeling out the proper magics he now knew were there. He opened them again, immediately soothed by the familiar green watching him. "Don't let go."

"I won't."

 

Chapter one

One Term Later

Planet 5118208 (Rehab), Rehabilitation Center 6.2

Tentacles sucked. Really really really sucked.

Ignoring the spots beginning to obscure his vision because of the slimy, sticky tentacle wrapped around his throat, Cyan fumbled for the Stinger attached to the left side of his pants. Pulling it free as the troublesome squid creature began to lift him up to slam into the ceiling, he rammed the sharp, metallic end of the Stinger into the section wrapped around his neck.

He smirked as with a rough squawk of protest the prisoner wrenched the wounded tentacle free. As it pulled back he thumbed the on-switch, and waited as the creature was zapped into unconsciousness. Stooping, he switched off the Stinger and returned it to its loop, giving the large, mottled orange squid creature a swift kick to reassure himself it was unconscious.

Behind him two new recruits gaped, and the Captain sighed. "Honestly, McCracken," he eyed Cyan. "What is it with you and Sardorans? Every time we get one in, they try to escape and go immediately for you. I swear you attract the things." Captain Waters stroked his overlarge black moustache.

Cyan shuddered. "Please don't say that. Beats the hell out of me why they see me and go 'Oh! Attack!' Seriously, I wish they'd pick on someone else." He rubbed his throat, which was rapidly bruising and slick with slime, and glared at his boss. "Of course you could just stop assigning me whenever they come in."

"Nah. Best free entertainment around."

Rolling his eyes, Cyan gave the Sardoran a last kick before moving away, boots clomping and rattling on the metal landing between the two rows of cells for larger prisoners. "I'm done for the day. Let the fresh meat finish up here, you don't need me anymore."

Waters nodded, twirling his moustache. "Go get cleaned up. I'll see you in a month."

"A month?" Cyan repeated, confused. Then his expression cleared. "Oh, yeah. Vacation."

Waters just rolled his eyes. "All the slacking off you do in Tiffany's office and you can't be bothered to remember your own damn vacations?"

"Vacations are boring. Don't reprimand me in front of the fresh meat. Sir. You two - get that seafood locked up." He turned away as the new recruits snapped salutes and set to work locking the Sardoran up while the Captain barked orders. Distantly he heard the splash as the squid was deposited into his pool-cage.

His steps clanged on the metal walkway and stairs as he left the highest level of Ward 3, descending from 3.3 down to 3.1, ignoring the occasional jeer from troublesome inmates and greetings from the more tolerable ones. At the sole entrance/exit to the ward, he paused while various devices checked his clearances - eyes, blood, prints, and the two keys embedded on bands worn on each forearm. He passed through another fifteen checks before exiting the S-Wing of the prison entirely and was able to take a transport to the G-Wing. Even there, it was another five clearances before he finally accessed the locker room assigned to him and nine other 1st Class Guards.

His uniform and keys were covered in Sardoran slime. Muttering beneath his breath, Cyan began the tedious process of removing every last one of the numerous keys fastened to the front of his intricate-looking jacket, which was a mass of hooks, tabs, pockets and loops.

As a 1st Class Guard, he was in possession of 150 keys, and they came in a wide variety of forms. Everything from special pills that put "chem-keys" in his bloodstream that needed renewing twice a day (10) to special microchips fastened to various parts of the heavy fabric of his black, military style jacket (50) to codes in his In-lens (15), to key cards (25) and even the old fashioned metal keys that were obsolete everywhere but Rehab (5). There were also the unique serial codes embedded in armbands worn on his fore and upper arms (10), the key codes encrypted in the microchip in his brain (25), and finally the codes imbedded in his fingerprints (10).

The 0 Class Guards carried 200 keys, and Captain Waters 205.

There were very good reasons only one prisoner had ever escaped from Rehabilitation Center 6.2.

Double checking that everything had been removed, counting his keys twice, Cyan pitched his jacket into the cleaner and set to work on the dozen or so weapons attached to his pants and undershirt - the Stinger would need cleaning, so that was set aside for maintenance to pick up. Into his locker went a small variety of guns, clubs and stunners. Tossing the rest of his clothes after the jacket, he walked naked to the showers.

He let out a long sigh as the hot water covered him, steam filling the shower cube. In short order the smell of citrus and soap mingled with the hot steam, and Cyan scrubbed and rescrubbed until he was certain every last trace of slime was gone. Suds and foam snaked down his fair skin, pink from the hot water. His body was tight with muscle, no spare bit of fat anywhere. Various scars ran the length of his body; one at his left arm and around his waist evidence of past encounters with Sardorans, with more than a dozen others speaking of encounters with other prisoners.

Slicking back his black hair, he grabbed a towel as he exited the shower, mashing the button to turn the water off. Reaching into his locker, he pulled out a small tube and rapidly coated the bruises on his throat - it would numb the soreness and speed the healing. Feeling much better, he started to don a new uniform - then remembered he was on vacation.

Feeling a little less relaxed he reached instead for his civilian clothes. The pants were much in the style of those he wore on duty - heavy, durable, but a bit softer and dark blue rather than black. His shirt was cotton, a luxury he could well afford, and dyed a dark burnt orange.

Several minutes later his hair was dried and brushed, a slight wave to the dark strands, and he sat down to lace up his boots. Standing, he carefully stowed his keys in their security box, triple locking it and stashing it at the bottom of his locker. Finally, he replaced a clear In-lens in his left eye, blinking until it settled into place, making it impossible to tell there was anything over either of his dove-gray eyes.

Exiting the locker room he stepped into the office where he and the other nine reported before and after every shift. And where he often went to "slack off" when his presence wasn't required on the cell blocks. Sector six was home to the most dangerous prisoners, from the violent to the incredibly violent to the violently insane and anyone else who needed to be kept under careful watch. Which meant most of them were so numbed and locked down they were either unconscious or so close to it they may as well be.

"Hey, Tiff." Cyan greeted the woman at the desk, her own uniform remarkably plain compared to those of the Guards. She was in possession of only fifty keys, all that was necessary to complete her required tasks.

She looked up from her paperwork, blond curls bobbing. "Cyan." Hazel eyes blinked in surprise. "You own civi clothing?"

"Shush, woman." Cyan grinned as he strode toward her high desk, leaning over the counter. "You picked this shirt out, remember?"

Tiffany smiled playfully back. "Didn't think you'd ever actually wear it."

Cyan rolled his eyes. "Working hard?"

"You know it. Unlike you. Going on vacation, right? Where you going?"

Cyan shrugged. "Probably just home. Haven't really decided yet."

"Uh-huh," Tiffany said, unconvinced. "Still sulking, are we?"

"I am not sulking." Cyan snorted. "There's nothing to sulk about."

"You won't even say his name anymore if you can help it."

"Whatever, Tiff. I say his name plenty - you're just never around to hear it."

Tiffany just looked at him, folding her arms across her ample chest. "Let's hear it then."

"Sean, Sean, Sean, Sean." Cyan glared at her. "Happy now?"

"Damn, you are still mad at him."

Cyan turned away, "No shit. Anyway, I just came to say goodbye." He tossed his security box keys at her. "Take care while I'm gone. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Che. Take care yourself. See you when you get back." She blew him a kiss, forcing him to smile before he was gone.

Outside, Cyan shouldered the bag that had his few belongings - ID, wallet, spare In-lens - and stepped into the public transport just outside the center. He keyed in the code for the residential sector. He needed to pick up a few things there, maybe grab something to eat, and then he'd catch a late flight home to Mars.

The Guards spent most of their time on the Rehabilitation planet - some of them still called it 'Earth' but that was considered old fashioned. Most called it Rehab. The better part of every term spent there, moving from their assigned Facility to the residential assigned them when they had time off. They worked in eight-hour shifts, rotating every few months from 1st to 2nd to 3rd. To break up the draining intensity of the work, a month's vacation once a year was required of all Guards.

So reluctantly Cyan boarded the shuttle that would take him to his home on Mars - a house that had cost him a great deal, but which he saw very little of. Rehab Guards made sixty points an hour, at least twice the average pay of most places, but seldom had the time to spend that money. Most, when they went on their mandatory vacation, did their absolute best to blow all that they'd saved up.

Cyan splurged on nice clothes, his house, and a few smaller items. Otherwise, his savings just accumulated. Not that he really needed the savings to begin with. He frowned, looking out the window of the transport shuttle - the normal shuttle, rather than the express, so it would be a few hours before he landed.

He'd probably just hang around town. When you spent eleven months of every year taking care of the galaxies' worst criminals, safe and sound at home was usually the most appealing type of vacation.

He could go planet hopping, or to the shipyards to pester the pilots and look at their ships. There was any number of things he could do, if he really wanted. But it wasn't as much fun without Sean along. Cyan's expression darkened as his thoughts inevitably turned to his missing friend - now a wanted criminal. Also magics capable. He was still livid Sean had never told him.

Cyan hoped he was okay, wherever he was. The one brief letter he'd left wasn't much - just a contact point to use for extreme emergencies.

He half wished there was an emergency, not that he could make the contact anyway. He and Sean's mother had spent the better part of the past year under heavy suspicion, for possibly aiding Sean and the Draconis to whom he was apparently mated.

If he ever saw Sean again, he was going to punch him

 

Planet 1311819 (Mars), Settlement 2

Absently Cyan returned the few greetings tossed his way as he walked from the shuttle station to his home - a stand alone rather than a room in an apartment complex, a rarity on the settlements where space was never wasted. He slowed to a stop in front of the house just two down from his own, frowning.

"Her lights shouldn't be off…" worry creased his face as he walked across the yard - covered in the grayish-green grass grown on mars. He knocked on the door, growing more concerned when Sean's elderly mother didn't immediately respond. Usually she either opened the door or keyed in the open command for him to let himself in.

Hesitantly he tried the door, going cold when it opened without resistance. That wasn't right - she always kept it locked. Stepping inside, Cyan made his way through the house, checking each room as he went.

He found her in bed, breathing a sigh of relief that at least she'd been strong enough to get that far. But looking at her pale face, trembling hands, and the medicine cluttered on the bedside table…maybe it was more that she hadn't been strong enough to leave the bed in the first place.

"Alice," he said reprovingly, dropping to sit beside her on the bed. "I told you to contact me if you started to feel worse."

The woman just shook her head, silent. She attempted to smile at him, a pale and older version of her handsome son, but it was shaky at best.

Increased worry flooded Cyan's face. "You're just getting worse, aren't you? I don't care what you say, Alice. I'm calling a doctor."

"No…"

"Yes." He said firmly. "You look awful, and you know damn good and well that Sean would want you to get medical help." He stroked her hair, alternately ignoring and soothing her protests. After helping her take a few more pills, he went and called for a doctor.

"I want my son," Alice managed in a weak voice. If she'd had the strength, she would have cried. She looked at Cyan, "We both know a doctor isn't going to be of much help. Either I'll get better or I won't, and I'm thinking I'm too old to be getting much better. I want to see my son."

Cyan was silent for a long moment. "He didn't mean to leave you," he said at last.

"I know," Alice said. "I don't blame him at all. But I want to see him…" Unspoken but heavy in the air was 'one last time.'

Another silence stretched out between them. At last Cyan shrugged, and stood. "I'm on vacation. Thought I'd go planet hoping instead of hanging around here for once. If you promise to get better, Alice, I'll bring you back a souvenir." He winked.

"A souvenir would be lovely. You're a sweet boy, Cyan."

"Nah, I've just got you fooled." Kissing her cheek, he made sure she was settled in and had what she needed ready to hand. He turned off the lights and locked the doors and windows as he left.

Outside, he allowed all his worry to show on his face. He walked automatically to his own home, and in a semi-daze began to make the arrangements for his new vacation plans.

He spent the remainder of the night at Sean's house, looking out for Alice and fretting quietly about what he was going to do.

Planet hopping was easy - he could do that without suspicion. But the contact point Sean had given him was in quadrant three. The planet Coni, home to the Draconis - and where Sean had last been seen - was also in quadrant three. There was no way Sean could just happily wander that way, or even leave quadrant two, without setting off alarms in the people that were probably still keeping an eye on him.

Well, he'd solve that problem when he came to it. Planet hopping would take him to the edge of his quadrant; maybe something could be arranged at the border.

Once Alice drifted off into a mostly restful slumber, Cyan returned home to pack his things. As the morning bells chimed throughout the city, he walked briskly back to the shuttle station.

Inter-galactic shuttle 00411811, the Dark Dancer

Cyan was dozing, lost somewhere between waking and sleeping, dimly fretting over what he'd do when he landed on Partan - just four stops from the quadrant border. He still had not devised a way to cross into quadrant three without arousing suspicion.

It was possible they were no longer watching him, but he doubted he was that lucky. If he went anywhere near quad three, alarms would go off somewhere. You'd think, given his connections, that he'd have more freedom. Then again he'd always made sure as few as possible knew he had powerful connections.

He was roused from his doze by the sounds of shouting. Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes and sat up. He was in a private cabin on the massive shuttle, often called a 'star-hopper' because it traveled from galaxy to galaxy.

Something was wrong. He lifted up the shutter covering his window and looked out. They weren't moving. Rapidly he ran through the possible reasons for stopping such a large ship.

No warnings, so not a malfunction. They were three hours into the journey and shouldn't be making any sort of stop. Try as he might, he could only come up with one reason.

Pirates.

They weren't uncommon in this sector…but it was a damned bold band of pirates who attacked an inter-galactic vessel.

He hadn't heard any weapons fire, so unless they were using magics to cause harm - unlikely - they weren't overly violent. Should he get involved?

Unwise. Even a Rehab Guard could only handle so many criminals at once, and he didn't have all his toys with him. As well trained as he was in hand-to-hand, taking on armed pirates with his fists and a single stunner was not the most brilliant of ideas.

Most likely the pirates would loot the ship and then flee - perhaps taking one or two hostages until they were safe away. Despite their reputation, most pirates avoided excess violence.

Hostages.

That gave him an idea. But would it work?

Only one way to find out. Standing and stretching, he discarded his cumbersome jacket and retrieved his stunner from his bag. Leaving his belongings on his seat, he fixed the stunner to his belt and ventured out of his cabin.

As it turned out, he didn't have to go looking for the pirates. Barely had he reached for the door when it was slammed open and he found himself shoved back into his seat and his stunner confiscated. Shaking his head, he looked up at the pirates - both human - assaulting him. "Either of you the Captain?"

"Shut up and stay still, and you won't come to any harm."

Cyan just looked at them and smirked faintly, "So you're not the Captain?"

"No," the second man said impatiently as they rifled through his cabin.

"I don't suppose you'd call him for me?" The men ignored him. "Okay, then." In a burst of movement Cyan launched himself at the men, punching one and sending him into the other one, tumbling them both to the ground. He grinned at the conscious one before knocking him out. After some fumbling and grunting, he managed to move them both to the hallway.

Retrieving his stunner, he waited for others to arrive.

Arrive they did, knocked unconscious one after another by his gun as they came through the door, until at last number five agreed to go and fetch the Captain. Cyan waited, somewhat dumbfounded that so far something seemed to be working.

He looked up as a figure appeared in the doorway - and almost groaned aloud. "I might have known I'd be dealing with a damned Fornarian."

The Captain's thin, pale brows rose. "And just what is going on here?" His voice was deep, mellow, his accent clipped. He was a Fornarian through and through, from the stick-like limbs just a bit longer than human limbs, and thin, spider-like fingers. His skin was pale gray, hair an almost equally pale gold-brown. His eyes however were a deep, warm brown - the color of the maple syrup he paid far too much money for just so he could have it with breakfast on those few days he was home on Mars.

Fornarians came from a planet that was almost all rock and sheer cliff face. Food, water, and comfort were all rare commodities. Their bodies had adapted accordingly; they were adjusted to survive on minimal nourishment - the reason they were so thin they'd be considered unhealthy on any other planet. Their limbs were extra long to make climbing easier, with especially hard bones and strong, thick skin. But the minimalist build of their bodies left very little room for anything else. Fornarians had the potential for powerful magics - but they lacked the energy to perform more than the few small spells they used for hunting, climbing, and small healings.

He was good looking. It was almost a shame, really, that Cyan had sworn off Fornarians. Just as well though - this wasn't really a leisurely vacation he was on.

"Care to explain to me why you're lounging around shooting my men?"

Cyan snorted, "You make it sound like stunning pirates is a bad thing. You do realize you're the bad guys, here?"

"So long as I'm raiding the ship," the Captain replied with a grin, "I'm in charge and I don't like having my men shot by some upstart civi with a stunner."

"Right." Cyan couldn't hide his mirth.

The Captain quirked a brow at him, but one of his men approached before he could speak. "Excuse me one moment."

"Of course," Cyan said politely.

The Fornarian turned aside briefly to speak in low tones with one of his men. After a moment he turned back to Cyan. "Would you mind telling me what you want? As amusing as this is, my time is short."

Cyan nodded. "I want you to take me hostage."

That gave the Captain pause. "Might I ask the reason for such a request?"

"No." Cyan grinned.

He was regarded in silence for several long seconds. "No. We don't need hostages - we plan our raids far better than that."

"I'll pay you. Name a price."

Again he managed to surprise the Fornarian into silence. "Take him," the Captain said at last to the man he'd spoken with earlier. "I want to continue this intriguing offer - you lot finish up and notify me when we're done. Are we still in the clear?"

"Aye, Captain." The man, obviously his second - and human - smirked. "This raid is going beautifully."

"Of course. We'll be in the Captain's quarters."

"Aye, Cap'n."

Cyan let himself be dragged roughly through the private cabins and through the ship to the Captain's quarters. He settled into a chair at a small table, as the Fornarian Captain sat down across from him.

"So," the Fornarian looked at him. "You want to be a hostage?"

"Yes."

"Hmm…" another pirate had brought along Cyan's travel bag, and the Captain began to rifle through it. On the table he set an extra unit for Cyan's stunner, his wallet, and a worn photograph. He ignored the wallet for the photo. He lifted a brow at the man across the table. "You carry a picture of the dead High Chancellor and his wife?"

"No," Cyan replied. He'd forgotten that small detail. Ah, well. It might actually make his being kidnapped more believable.

"Then what do you call this?" the Captain held the photo up. It was an image of a distinguished looking middle-aged man, dressed to the nines in what had been the fashion a little more than a decade ago. He had graying black hair and amber eyes. Beside him was a woman in an elaborate blue and silver dress, her coiffed hair a warm brown and eyes a soft gray.

"A picture of my parents."

For the third time, he rendered the Fornarian speechless. "You don't look much like your brother."

"Yes, I know." Cyan said. "I'm thankful for that every single day."

The Captain laughed. "So you must be Cyan Alexander."

"I prefer McCracken these days," Cyan replied. "It keeps my brother's fame away from me."

"I see. Why do you want us to kidnap you?"

"I need to speak with a friend. I can't get into quad three on my own - never mind why. I just want you to take me with you and drop me off on a planet in quad three."

"What planet?"

"Kreska."

The Captain nodded. "You're willing to pay for it? Must be quite the friend you're going to see. What, did he steal your girlfriend or something?"

"Nothing so frivolous. Let's just say it's a matter of life and death."

"All right." A knock at the door, and the man Cyan had seen before popped his head in to notify them of pending departure.

Grinning, the Captain stood. "Inform the crew that we're taking a hostage along with us." He slid his maple eyes toward Cyan. "A million points?"

"Done," Cyan grabbed his things and stood. He smirked. "I told you I could afford any price."

"So I see." The Captain motioned for him to precede him out the door.

Cyan paused in front of him, "So what's your name, anyway? Or do I just call you Captain?"

"My name is Adalsteinn, though most simply call me 'Einn." He looked Cyan up and down, "We can discuss what you'll call me later."

A brow lifted, and Cyan laughed. "Forget it, Fornarian. One of you was enough. I've learned my lesson. And I'm on a business trip." He smirked as they stepped onto the transport, the last to leave the star-hopper.

"We'll see." Einn smirked back. "It's a long haul to Kreska, and you are my hostage."

"Your paying hostage." Cyan said firmly.

Einn just laughed as he keyed in the codes to take them to his ship.

 

Chapter Two

Planet 11181911-3554 (moon of kreska), private settlement

Sean woke feeling warm - almost hot, but rather than pull away he instead pressed closer to the source of it, hand sliding across soft flesh and smooth scales as he lazily caressed Mendel's chest. He let his blue eyes slide shut again, perfectly content to stay where he was until someone or something forced him to get out of bed.

A deep chuckle broke through the hazy remnants of sleep and reluctantly he cracked his eyes open, angling his head up to glare gently at the man he was curled up against. "What?"

"Nothing," grass-green eyes sparkled with amusement. "As hard as you work during the day, it is always funny to see you so lazy every morning."

Sean let out a faint 'hmph' and resumed stroking Mendel's chest, fingers dancing lightly across flesh and pressing more firmly at scales until Mendel was doing anything but laughing. Sean continued to tease him, hands flitting across stomach and abdomen, dropping lower for a moment before moving back up his chest. "Lazy, am I?"

"More like evil," Mendel managed.

Snickering, Sean tangled his fingers in Mendel's light gold hair, lifting himself up to kiss the Draconis soundly and moaning as Mendel began to return Sean's taunts full measure.

Their good mood was absent a few hours later, as they worked in their office, pouring over new reports, transcripts of recorded conversations and a handful of other documents, all of them pertaining to one thing - the Draconis. Rather, the questionable treatment and preservation of the Draconis.

Currently the outlook wasn't promising. On the surface was a conflict as to how safe it was to permit the continued existence of the Draconis - and it wouldn't be the first time a genetically engineered race had been destroyed. The governed sections of the known galaxy were divided into four primary quadrants. Of these, one through three had outlawed genetic experimentation. And the last was allowed to conduct them exclusively for medical reasons.

At least officially.

More difficult, there were several someone's tangled up in the uncertain fate of the Draconis. Their creators, the Coni, wanted to refine them back into what they were originally meant to be - magics energy supplies. Still others - some Coni, the Draconis and their mates, and a few other supporters - wanted the Draconis to be left alone. And a few even wanted them wiped out.

The Infinitum Government commanded the four quadrants, and were currently contemplating what should be done with the Draconis. As of yet, the IG had taken no active roll in the decision, Coni itself having not requested its direct intervention. It was, however, only a matter of time. Until then, debates waged across Coni as factions argued for and against the fate of the genetically engineered race.

Under the radar of the IG, a group was experimenting on the Draconis somewhere in the fourth quadrant where genetic experimentation was still legal.

Mendel sat at a wide desk, surrounded by touch screens and a bank of half a dozen viewing screens. He typed at a rapid rate, the faintest chimes sounding with each stroke of the keys. His green eyes were hard with concentration as he worked, switching rapidly from file to file, collating and shifting information in a seemingly haphazard fashion. Faces flashed as personal files came up, vanishing again to be replaced by long lists of numbers and what appeared to be detailed information on various unknown persons.

The sound of a door swishing open broke his concentration, and he watched as Sean entered.

Who was failing miserably at his attempts not to yawn. Beads of water still trickled down his chest from a recent shower. Stifling another yawn, he pulled a gray tank top over his head. He halted behind Mendel, nuzzling his neck and pressing a kiss to a scaled shoulder before moving to his own desk.

Once there he pulled on a dark blue sweater he'd been carrying, then flipped open a small, square leather case. Carefully stored inside was what appeared to be a contact lens, a barely visible strip of black lining the edge of it. An Information-lens, or In-lens, used to store any and all manner of data - codes, passwords, schematics, nearly anything so long as there was room or a way to access information stored elsewhere.

Sean slipped the In-lens over his left eye, blinking until it settled into place. His stored unique data on everything he and Mendel did, and was one of only two places to locate the codes to the information stored on Mendel's computers. "Anything of note?" he asked as he sat down, activating his own small private computer, thumbing through notes he'd made the previous day.

"No. All the reports are in; I've just keyed them to you." Mendel didn't look up from his work. "And all four will be available for conference today, in approximately thirty minutes."

Nodding, Sean called up the reports, skimming them briefly before going back to the first and beginning a more detailed perusal. One-handed, he occasionally typed in notes on a smaller, separate screen. The two worked in silence, speaking only occasionally and then only in half sentences and partial questions, in the manner of people familiar and comfortable with each other.

Several minutes later four images appeared in a semi-circle above and around Sean's desk.

The first light screen held the image of a well-built man, roughly mid-thirties or so in age, with white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes. He was dressed in a well-made dark blue jacket, with silver trim at the high collar and silver frogs in the shape of infinity fastening the front of it. His features were large and sharp; he looked as if he'd been carved from a block of ice. He nodded a slow, stern greeting to Sean.

In the screen next to him was an image of a woman, her skin tainted red from the peculiar chemicals unique to those inhabited planets of the first quadrant. Her hair was a dark, coppery brown, as were the piercing eyes behind the In-specs she wore, a much more powerful version of the more common In-lens. Her dark lips were pursed, as if she'd just eaten something particularly unpleasant but was too polite to say so.

The next image was of another woman, a full-blooded Draconis. Her skin was a pale, pale green, jewel green scales fanning out from her forehead and nose to cover the majority of her face, trailing down her neck to vanish beneath her black robes. More scales were visible on her arms, crawling down to just brush the knuckles of her hands. Her dark gray hair was neatly plaited and wound about the back of her had. She smiled warmly at Sean, despite the shadows in her emerald green eyes.

The last screen was also of a Draconis, this one a male with skin a strange creamy-gold color, his scales just a shade or two darker. His gold brown hair was cropped short, feathery strands of it brushing against his cheeks and forehead. His features were pretty, a masculine sort of delicate; the frustration clouding his face seemed horribly out of place.

"Summer," Sean nodded to the male Draconis. "Spring," to the female. Next to the redheaded woman, "Fall," and the man. "Winter. I'm glad all of you could make it."

The group murmured brief greetings and acknowledgements. Sean continued as they quieted, "Fall - any luck yet?"

The red-skinned woman shook her head. "No. I'm still trying, but I'm just not that high up on the ladder. I'm only a lab assist, stuck with all the grunt work." She hesitated, "I…I may be getting closer, but it's going to take some time yet and I don't want to promise results I may or may not get."

"That's all right. Trying is the most we can ask of you. Your reports are still plenty useful. Have you had any trouble with sending them to us?"

Fall shook her head, copper curls flying about gently. "Only the usual and I deal with them well enough. If things get to be too difficult, I'll let you know in the agreed upon way. Never fear."

"Very well." Sean shifted his attention to the pale man beside her. "Winter?"

The man reluctantly shook his head, "Slow going here as well. My position is at least as tricky as Fall's. My field is narrowing, but I'm starting to think that those left to investigate are all involved in some way."

"Isn't that always the way in politics? Everyone has their hand in something, if not several things." Sean sighed, "Any prime suspects?"

Winter nodded this time, "J and S at the very least - though J I haven't quite figured out. I'm keeping an eye on him, but if it's all right, I'm going to focus most of my effort on S. He's the easier of the two, and the more likely to get information from."

"I trust your judgment. Just keep us informed."

"Of course."

Sean moved on, turning to the Draconis. "Things aren't going so well on Coni, are they?" he asked the elderly woman.

She shook her head, "The officials and diplomats and ambassadors and I swear even their servants are all fighting like children over what should be done with us." She scowled at her thoughts. "Meanwhile, we Draconis are getting crushed underfoot - both accidentally and intentionally. It's frustrating; there's so much bickering and backstabbing no decisions are being made."

"Things aren't much better amongst the stars," the second Draconis said sourly. "The general impression is that the Draconis are dangerous. Everywhere I go I get suspicious looks from those that recognize what I am. More than once I've had the authorities called for no good reason at all. I don't know who's seeding or feeding the rumors, but we're not well thought of. I'd almost swear it's the Temperast disaster all over again."

Sean grunted, "It's not completely unlike it. Except that the Draconis aren't dangerous animals rapidly destroying the planet on which they were made. And wiping out the Temperast didn't mean killing off mates as well. Which is something I've noticed these rumors all fail to mention. But I guess the deaths of upwards of 40,000 Draconis and their mates don't much matter to people."

The group fell into a grim silence, until Sean sighed again and resumed speaking. "Have you obtained any new information, Summer?

"None. To date there are twenty-four missing persons - twelve Draconis and their mates, which corresponds with information sent to me from Fall. Of those twenty-four, only six of the mates were reported missing. All the others were unattached, most likely chosen for that very reason. The few reports of suspicious persons or vehicles all mention a silver ship, but the description they give could be any merchant-class ship in any port from here to the end of the stars." He let out a frustrated huff of air. "No one has reported any suspicious persons, so I have no idea where to look next. I probably won't until Fall reports new arrivals at her lab. I'll keep on what few leads I have but I doubt I'll learn much."

The copper haired woman looked unhappy, "We never see the ship arrive or leave - the one thing I can tell you is that we're buried deep, deep underground. I can't even remember the last time I saw the sun. New 'specimens' just show up in the lab. I can't even give you names, all we get are vitals."

"The pictures you send are more than enough," Sean said soothingly. "We can usually use those to figure out who they are, and eventually what they were doing at the time they were kidnapped. It's just the 'where are they being taken' that's eluding us. You're right where we need to be and damned if any of us can figure out where that is."

"How do you think I feel?" she responded bitterly. "I could be anywhere in the fourth quadrant and I'll probably never leave it unless you guys can figure out where I'm at."

Sean dropped his gaze, but forced it back up a moment later. "I know. We'll find you, Fall. I promise."

The woman managed a smile as the others added their own quiet reassurances to Sean's. "I know you will. I wouldn't have agreed to this otherwise. Just hurry, okay? I'm going crazy having to perform all these experiments."

The female Draconis spoke, "Have any clearer an idea about what exactly they're doing?"

"Not really. As I said - I'm just a lackey. Of course most of it is obviously with refining them, much as the Coni themselves want to do. With the obvious exception that whatever is going on here won't benefit the Coni exclusively, if at all." Fall bit at her lower lip, pensive. "There seems to be a particular emphasis on Draconis-human pairings."

"Really?" Sean called up her latest report, "There's no mention of that here."

"I wasn't entirely certain of it when I made that report. But something just a few hours ago has me almost completely convinced."

Sean leaned forward, suddenly intent. Behind him he heard Mendel's typing cease. "Go on."

"As you already know, we have twenty four 'specimens' in the lab. What you don't know, because I never deemed it relevant before, is that the mates are put to sleep and kept close enough that the Draconis aren't affected by the absence of their mates. We want them at full strength and health, you see. The mates are studied almost as often as the Draconis themselves."

"You have no idea why?"

"None. I can't tell what they're looking for. Only that they're extremely interested in those experiments. Crossbreeds like Mendel are especially of interest." Fall paused, as her words slowly sank into the rest of the assembled. "So…be careful Sean. And Mendel, I know he must be nearby." Fall stared at Sean, fear and frustration in her face. "I have no doubt that whatever they're doing to obtain specimens, you're somewhere on that list. A magics capable human would, no doubt, intrigue them greatly."

"I agree," Summer interjected. "From what she's just said and what we already know - you two are prime candidates for capture. Especially as no one would care or even know if two criminals were kidnapped and taken to a lab for experimentation."

"Duly noted," Sean said heavily. "I suggest we end this meeting, unless anyone has anything further to add."

The four all replied with negatives, and one by one their screens blinked out. At last only the older, female Draconis remained. "Contact me in a few days, we can have a less serious chat."

Mendel came up behind Sean, a hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Of course. Take care, all right?"

"Be especially cautious," she replied. "Never mind the fact that this whole operation will crumble without the two of you, I don't want the two of you to become lab animals."

"We'll be careful, Spring." Sean persisted in using her codename. "Now go, you must be busy this time of day."

"Farewell."

Sean sat back in his seat with a groan, nuzzling into the comforting hand that moved to stroke his cheek. "Sometimes I feel like I have no idea what's going on. What possible benefit could Draconis have for humans?"

Mendel shrugged, "I could not tell you. Perhaps if we knew that we would be closer to ending our problems."

"Well…" Sean fell silent a moment, searching for what to day. "We know that someone in the IG is behind all of this. Probably several someones in the IG. Let's leave it to Winter to figure it out. Once we know what's going on with the IG, our lives will be a lot easier. In the meantime we can keep feeding your mother information to hopefully sway opinion on Coni. If we can win the Coni over, the war is half won." He tilted his head back to grin teasingly at his lover, "After all, if your owners decide to approve of you, who's to say otherwise?"

"You are not amusing," Mendel tugged lightly at his hair. "The Coni own us about as much as they own the air they breathe."

Sean grinned, "Meaning they'll die with you gone?"

"No, that would be you. You know what I mean."

Twisting in his seat and rising to his knees in the chair, Sean wrapped his arms around Mendel's neck and drug the Draconis close for a kiss. "Mmm, I don't suppose we can dodge work for a bit."

"No," Mendel laughed. "Always trying to get out of work, aren't you?"

"Can't help it. Cyan's habits die hard." Sean looked briefly sad.

"You miss them a lot. I --"

Sean cut him off before he could complete his sentence. "I'm not going to lie. I miss home a lot. Especially Cyan, and my mother. I can only imagine how upset she must be. And I guarantee the minute Cy sees me, I'm either going to get punched or kicked. Possibly both." He pulled away to climb out of his chair, then pulled the Draconis close again. "But I'd rather be here with you, doing work that at times seems futile, than be back home."

Mendel frowned at him.

"Don't give me that 'it's all my fault, you never had a choice' look." Sean kissed him softly. "I'm happier now than I ever was before. So stop moping and distracting me and let me get back to work."

In reply, Mendel bit down on the lip nibbling at his own, earning a startled yelp from the shorter man. "Who's distracting whom? Get back to those reports, I know you have not read them all. And we've got more coming in from other quarters as we speak. There is also the conference later today, and we still have to send mother information to bolster her arguments…"

"Okay, okay." Sean glared half-heartedly at him before returning to his seat and calling up the reports and recording he had yet to go over. Mendel moved back to his own desk and the two fell back into their comfortable silence as they worked.

 

Chapter Three

Merchant class star ship 00061225, the Dragonfly

"There," Cyan said, restoring his pointcard to his wallet. "One million points. It'll be your fault if it gets traced."

"Please, we're pirates," Einn grinned. "No one'll know a thing." Einn nodded from his seat overlooking the rest of the bridge. "Gents, say hello to our special guest - Cyan McCracken."

The crew just looked at him. There were roughly fifty pirates to Einn's crew, and ten of them maintained the bridge. Besides Cyan and Einn there were seven humans, one other Fornarian, a Sardoran - Cyan tried not to wince - and an almost insect-like creature bent over the navi-coms. Of the humans, four probably came from his own quadrant, the others had the reddish coloring of the first quad.

"Captain," the second-in-command spoke up, a human with the reddish skin of the first quadrant, his brown hair short and spiky, the In-Specs on his face hiding his green eyes. "What's going on here?"

"Mr. McCracken is paying us to escort him under greatest secrecy to Kreska." Einn looked at his second, "Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Faller?"

"Yes," he replied bluntly. "We're pirates, not a transport service. Why does he need us to transport him?"

"We're getting a million points for it. That should be the end of the matter for you," Einn replied with finality.

"Yes, sir." Faller grumbled. He looked at Cyan, "So what do you do for a living that you can just throw us a million points?"

Cyan grinned, "I gott'em at Rehab." He laughed as every head on the bridge turned to glare at him. Prisoners were 'in' Rehab, Guards were 'at.'

Einn whistled, "You're bolder than I thought. Or maybe dumber." He looked up at Cyan through his lashes, "And here I thought you got the money from your parents. You're just a Rehabilitator." He motioned to his men "You're probably not going to be well liked now. More than a few of us have comrades undergoing Rehabilitation."

"Not on my watch, unless they're particularly bloodthirsty."

Another whistle, "Sector Six, eh? My, my, what a specimen you are. And here I was thinking you were just a lazy Civi who happened to be good with a Stunner."

"Speaking of which," Cyan said, "Could I have it back? It's custom made, I'd hate to lose it."

"Of course. You'll probably need it against some of my crew." Einn winked, "Though you can always come to me for protection."

"I told you no already," Cyan said with a laugh.

"We'll see." Einn stood, suddenly all business. "Faller, find McCracken's weapon and see that a room is prepared. Then let's get down to business; I want to sell our haul as quickly as possible, and we need to figure out the best route to Kreska."

"Aye, Captain," Faller said with resignation before signaling that Cyan should follow him.

In short order Cyan was alone in a small cabin, and he set his bags down with a faint thump before stretching out on the narrow bed with a soft sigh. "What are you doing?" he asked aloud. "If anyone figures out what you're playing out, you're going to wind up in Rehab when this is over."

Cyan turned on his side, tucking his arms under his head and closing his eyes. His thoughts drifted, from home to Alice to Sean to Einn, landing eventually on the one person he'd not thought about in years - his brother.

Thirteen. He'd been thirteen when his parents were assassinated at the annual Eternity Ball. Just three years too young to be allowed to attend it himself. His brother had been sixteen, and not once had he ceased bragging about how he was going and Cyan wasn't.

He could still remember the smell of his mother's perfume, how it surrounded him in a soft, scented cloud when she'd hugged him goodbye that night. He'd always loved it, that scent she only wore on special occasions. These days he couldn't stand the smell of violets, but he remembered when he'd loved it.

And his father, so happy and proud and excited that things were going so well, that his policies were going through and that he would likely be promoted to Grand Chancellor by the time of the next Eternity Ball. His parting words to Cyan were for him to have fun, with adamant orders not to sulk because he couldn't go. And Cyan had nodded and obeyed as best he could, sulking occasionally but mostly having fun playing his games.

His brother had been sulking over the mostly faded bruise Cyan had given him a few days before for being an obnoxious braggart. He and Cyan hadn't exchanged goodbyes; it had never been their style. Even at the end, when Cyan left, they hadn't said goodbye.

They'd been killed by long range Stunners, altered much as Cyan's currently was. Stunners were precisely that - they typically shocked their victims into a state of immobility. Standard stunners ranged from a mild 'sting' to a hit strong enough to knock you out, typically totaling five different levels of shock.

Cyan's was more powerful than that. The third level was enough to knock a target out cold, and it ranged up three extra notches - the last enough to kill a person. It had taken three years for him to acquire the licenses and permits to carry such a weapon, and that only because he was a Rehab Guard. No civilian could normally obtain such a powerful weapon. The long-range stunners used on his parents would not have been sold even to a Zero Class Guard.

Moreover, they never should have been permitted anywhere near the Palace of Eternity. Which meant that one of his parents' peers must have had a hand in it. But no one had ever been able to learn anything conclusive, and after a while the cases had been given up for lost.

Except by Jade.

The two had disagreed heatedly on the matter of revenge. Jade wanted revenge, badly.

So Jade went the route of their father; only twenty-six and he had already been appointed Lower Chancellor of the Fourth Quadrant. In only a few more years he would undoubtedly be right where their father was when he was killed - High Chancellor. What he was up to, Cyan didn't know. He preferred it.

Cyan had opted out of revenge and left home, severing any connection between them. They'd not said goodbye when he left.

Turning onto his other side, Cyan forced away the unhappy thoughts. They'd each made their choices, and lived with them. He was happy; his parents would have to be content with that.

He only hoped that whatever Jade was up to, it wouldn't hurt too many people.

And he was sinking into gloom again. Standing, Cyan stretched and combed his fingers through his short hair. "Let's go exploring; there's got to be something I can do on this ship. Sitting still is going to drive me crazy."

Several minutes exploration later resulted in little more than a few dark glances and a growing need to locate the cafeteria. The ship was notably lacking in markers - probably to confuse possible intruders. Well, he was confused so the idea was clearly a sound one.

"Maybe I should just go back to my room…" On a whim he opened the next door he came across - and paused.

It was an exercise chamber. All the equipment had been stored, leaving the large floor open to the man currently shadow-boxing his way back and forth across it.

Faller.

Cyan stepped inside, intrigued. It wasn't often he came across someone who could fight with more than a Stunner or some other firearm. But Faller moved like it came as easily as breathing, swinging and kicking with fluidity enough to make water look stiff.

The first mate must have caught movement at the edge of his vision, because he abruptly halted and turned toward Cyan. "What do you want?"

"You look like you almost know what you're doing," Cyan said with a taunting grin. "Someone teach you a few parlor tricks?"

Faller snorted, raking his hair from his narrowed eyes. "I suppose you think you know better, Rehabber?"

"Please. I deal with worse than you on an hourly basis."

That earned him a sneer, "Yeah, but I'm not wearing a numbing collar or chains. And if you didn't notice, Rehab, you're missing all your pretty toys and keys. You can't just knock me out and lock me up."

"Is that a challenge?" Cyan asked lazily, though his eyes were bright with anticipation.

"You tell me, Rehab. You're the one that started this."

"Then most definitely yes. If you're up for it."

Faller grinned ferociously. "Oh, I'm up for it. Not often I get the chance to knock around a Rehabber. Get out here on the floor where I can kick you."

"We'll see who kicks who."

*~*~*~*

Cyan's chest rose and fell in time with his panting. He grinned across the long exercise chamber at Faller. Sweat soaked his thin black tank top, making it cling to his chest. "Not too shabby, I guess. You seem a little slow this morning."

Faller made a face and dropped his defensive stance. "That's enough for one day. I've got work to do."

"Yeah, yeah." Cyan relaxed his own stance and caught the towel thrown his way. It was his fifth day aboard the Dragonfly, and he and Faller - Lark Faller - had been sparring since Cyan's stumbling across the exercise chamber during his explorations the first day.

Einn snickered from where he stood on the side, "I've never had so much fun watching two men try to kill each other. It would probably be better if the two of you would learn to get along - but don't force it on my account."

His first mate didn't deign to answer, merely shot him a disgusted look before exiting the chamber.

The Captain sauntered lazily across the chamber to join Cyan, "What did I do with my mornings before you were around to harass my first mate. And you do it half naked, too. What ever did I do before you?"

Cyan rolled his eyes, "Well, the last day you lived without me was all of five days ago. I'm sure you can remember back that far, if you really try."

Einn made a show of struggling to summon the memories. "Nope, can't recall. Maybe I'll have better luck when your half-naked self leaves the room."

"Then I'll be happy to oblige," Cyan said, torn between amusement and exasperation.

"Don't hurry on my account."

"Oh, no. It's entirely on my own account, I assure you."

Einn laughed and followed him out of the room and through passageways back toward Cyan's room. "Are you always this standoffish when someone expresses an interest?"

"Only when I'm on business," Cyan slid him a sideways glance. "And I don't do Fornarians."

"Hmph. Just because you had one bad relationship--"

"That's the problem." Cyan stopped, humor fading. "I don't do flings."

Comprehension filled Einn's face, followed by disappointment. "That's a pity. I always forget you humans have a thing for permanency."

"Exactly." Cyan opened his door, pausing at the threshold. "Besides, Captain, when this is all over I go back to being a Guard. And Guards don't date criminals."

Einn shrugged, "Such a waste, you." His mischievous grin returned, "But I'm not giving up quite yet. Fornarians know stubbornness better than anyone. We've got a ways yet to go before we reach Kreska. We'll just see what happens."

With a sigh, Cyan stepped into his room and closed the door. Stripping off his pants, he dropped them along with his towel to the floor.

He stood in the shower, unmoving, for several minutes before finally moving mechanically to clean up.

Nearly a week into his strange trip and not much had really happened. The crew didn't like him, but he managed. He wondered if his sparring with Faller had something to do with that.

That and the Captain was "smitten" with him.

It really was too bad that Einn was a criminal, and Fornarian, and that he was technically on 'business.'

And he wasn't going to go there, not tonight.

Not ever.

Because Alice was sick and he had to reach Sean and now was most definitely not the time to admire the way Einn laughed, like it was the most natural sound for the Fornarian to make. Or the way he moved, slow and seemingly lazy - much in the way a cat often appeared lazy.

Well, it didn't matter. Sparring matches and food were about the only reasons he left his room. Otherwise he spent his time resting, reading, worrying and plotting out exactly how he was going to greet Sean when he finally saw the bastard.

Kicking was tempting, but he thought he might just stick with a good old-fashioned right hook.

He just hoped Alice was doing all right. He'd been sorely tempted of late to call her, check on her…but it was simply too risky. There was no choice but to believe she was managing, patiently waiting for her son to return home.

"I'm not taking any more damned vacations," he muttered to himself as he dressed and sat down in a chair to eat the breakfast that someone had left for him, most likely in the hopes that he'd stay the hell out of the cafeteria.

"Alice sick, Sean long gone, the crew hates me and the Captain likes me," he stared miserably into his oatmeal. "No more fucking vacations."

 

Chapter Four

Planet 111819111-3554 (moon of Kreska), private settlement

Sean couldn't sleep. Sighing in defeat he threw back the blankets and climbed carefully out of bed.

He immediately felt cold, and for a moment almost went back to bed - and Mendel, who murmured in his sleep a moment before settling back down. But Sean wasn't tired, and he knew if he stayed his restlessness would wake his lover. So pulling on a sweater he wrapped the blankets back up around Mendel, kissed him softly, then went in search of something hot to drink.

A cup of tea in hand, he made his way to the office, clicking on his computer to do some more reading. Every sound invisible by day suddenly seemed overloud, and for a moment he worried Mendel would wake - then rolled his eyes and set to reading.

When the light for incoming calls flashed, he unthinkingly hit the button to take it, rather than letting the caller leave a message. He wasn't sure who was more startled - him or her. "Jundel."

"Sean," the green Draconis from the meeting a few days ago smiled at him. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be up at this hour."

He smiled, "I wasn't expecting to be up. Is there a problem?"

"Only the usual," Jundel said tiredly. "There is some good news, in that I might have swayed a few more Coni to our side." She shrugged, "It's hard, when the race that created you sees you only as a tool. I'll be honest and say that sometimes I wonder if we'll ever succeed." Her smile returned, "But I know we will; and seeing how hard you and Mennie work always renews my determination."

"Mendel is certainly to be admired but I've barely been doing this a Turn. It's a wonder everyone trusts me as much as they do."

"Not really. Ignoring the fact that matches have every reason to see the Draconis are well treated; anyone that sees the two of you together for more than five minutes knows you'd never do anything to hurt Mennie. And he has been devoted to our cause so long I can hardly remember when he wasn't."

Sean flushed, discomfited by her words.

Jundel laughed. "For all that I hate what led to it, I am happy he finally found you - and I don't just mean his match."

"I know," Sean said softly. "I'm glad he found me too."

Jundel sighed softly, "If his father had cared half as much for the two of us…"

"I wish he had, Jun."

"That makes three of us, I'm sure." She replied. "Mennie always tried so hard to get along with his father, but it just never worked. His father was too selfish and too foolish - and fool me for not realizing it sooner than I did." She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Perhaps if I had things would not have turned out as they did."

"And you wouldn't have had Mendel."

"That is very true. Is he all right? He would not tell me if he was doing poorly, but I know how upset he must still be…" she looked sad. "I don't think he knows how to handle the fact that he killed him."

Sean shook his head, "He never talks about it. I've tried a few times, but he either gets angry or gets depressed and it never goes anywhere. And I don't feel like I quite have the right to pry anyway." He grinned briefly, "We didn't exactly get together under the most normal circumstances, and all this espionage and hiding from authorities doesn't make for the best of dates."

"All things considered, Sean, I would say you're both doing splendidly. Don't fret about it too much - things will manage to work themselves out in their own time."

"Hopefully."

"They will," Jundel said firmly.

Sean shook his head, "I have my doubts, even if I try to ignore them. No matter what we do Jun, we can't change the fact that Mendel is wanted for murder. That he committed murder. Even if - when - we save the Draconis, I can't undo that fact."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes," Jundel remained firm, though her eyes had dimmed with her own private worries. "It helps none of us to dwell on it. So try harder to ignore your doubts until you can do something about them. There's no use in fretting over what can't be changed."

"You're right," Sean managed a wan smile. "I'll try."

Unspoken went the worries of his own fate. If they were ever caught, they were both going to wind up in a lab - or a grave.

"So what did you call for, Jundel? Certainly not to listen to me fret and whine."

Jundel laughed softly, "Perhaps I did, though I thought I was calling merely to report the limited success of the latest conference - as I mentioned earlier."

"Mmm...all the information we gave you and so little effect was had?" Sean leaned back in his seat, rubbing his forehead. "I guess we just have to keep trying. Are you sure you're okay? I would hate to put you in danger."

"Out of all of us, I am the in the least amount of danger," Jundel regarded him with stern, dark green eyes. "And the risk is worth what we're working toward. At least I am not stuck in a lab somewhere in space with little chance of getting out. I have nothing but respect for Lorraine, for willingly undertaking that task."

"You and me both. I hope we find her soon."

"We will."

"So what problems are you having?"

Jundel shrugged her thin shoulders, the shimmery fabric of her morning gown catching the sunlight peeking through unseen windows. "Only the usual - everyone wants to know my sources, and believe me to be making stuff up because I will not reveal them. Of course they suspect I am communicating with my son, but so far no one has been able to prove it." She smirked, "Benefits of being matched the way I am."

"Be careful."

"Aren't I always?"

"I wonder."

Jundel laughed softly. "You should get back to bed, Sean."

"I agree. I think maybe now I might actually be able to sleep."

"Pleasant dreams, and give my son a kiss for me."

"Gladly. Have a good day, Jundel."

"Farewell for now," Jundel signed off.

Sean returned his empty teacup to their small kitchen, then made his way back to bed.

Mendel murmured noiselessly as he slid back under the blankets and almost immediately moved to cling to him. Sean clung back, eagerly absorbing the heat offered by the sleeping Draconis. He opened his mouth to yawn, and was asleep before he finished.

*~*~*~*

"You look like you did not sleep at all last night."

"I slept for a bit," Sean managed around the toast he was eating. "Eventually."

"Have trouble sleeping again?" Mendel asked. "You should have woken me up."

Sean snorted, "So we could both be tired today, lover? Besides, your mom called with a report and I chatted with her a bit."

"Oh?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Sean grinned. "Yes, we talked about you. But it was all nice stuff and no, I'm not telling you."

Mendel ignored him and went back to his computer screens.

"Oh, I'm getting ignored now."

"You are not," Mendel replied without looking up.

"Yes I am. Should I come over there and force you to pay attention to me?"

"No, you should not." Mendel finally glanced at him. "I'm not ignoring you - I just don't want to hear about whatever you two were discussing. I'm sure you were fretting needlessly."

"Never needless, lover."

"Hmph. I'm fine."

"None of us are fine."

Mendel grimaced and went back to work, ignoring Sean's sighs and mutters. Silence fell for a few minutes as Mendel worked and Sean finished his breakfast.

"...Sean..."

"Hmmm?"

"Your friend, back home. His name is Cyan, right?"

Sean blinked. "Yeah..."

"What's his last name?"

"McCracken."

Mendel looked up at him, "This news report from the second quadrant says that a few days ago pirates raided an intergalactic shuttle and took a man hostage to guarantee their escape. Says they wound up kidnapping a Rehab Guard on vacation - Cyan McCracken."

Sean choked on his toast, and spent the next minute or two struggling to regain his breath before he finally spoke. "He's been kidnapped? How? What the hell?"

Shrugging, Mendel punched a few keys to transfer the report to Sean's computer. "It just says that at the end of their raid - during which they focused mostly on money, jewelry, the usual really - they took Cyan hostage. So far no word has been received by anyone as to the hostage. It's like they took him and ran.

"That's rather odd." Sean bit his lip, reading and rereading the short report. "What do they want with him? What was the ship? Any clues as to which pirate band did it?"

Mendel was silent for a few minutes while he searched for the answers to Sean's questions, "No one saw the ship itself, which is fairly standard. But pirate ships seen in that area before include the Sylvius, the Gloom, and the Dragonfly. No guarantees, but it's possible he's on any one of those three ships.

"Right...and there's been no sign that they've released him?" Sean spoke in a voice that fell just short of panic. "Do you suppose..."

Mendel didn't reply immediately, instead moving to embrace him. "Don't get upset before you have a reason to be. He's probably fine - murder is a charge most pirates don't want to add to their lists. It's just too messy. Is there any other reason they might be holding him?"

In Mendel's arms, Sean suddenly went still. "Oh shit...what if they found out?" he stared up, eyes wide.

Mendel was confused, "Found out what?"

"Do you know the name Alexander? Rufus Alexander?"

"Yes…" Mendel said slowly. "It's rather hard not to know the name of the assassinated High Chancellor."

"He and his wife had two sons. Jade was the elder…Cyan the younger."

"Oh. That could be a problem."

Sean gave him a look, "You think?" He bit his lip, fretting. "I wonder what they'll do - did they kidnap him on purpose, or was it by pure chance? And what the hell was he doing on a star hopper anyway? Fuck."

"I…" Mendel looked oddly lost. "Should we send someone to investigate?"

"I don't know," Sean looked up at him. "I can't use our resources for personal measure. But I can't - what if -" he dropped into his seat with a strange sort of strangled moan.

Mendel held him close, stroking his hair as he thought. He frowned at his computers, debating options. Murmuring reassurances he left Sean to return to his own desk, punching in a long string of numbers.

A screen flashed into view in the space above his desk. He waited in tense silence for several long minutes, until finally the screen activated on the other end, and a familiar pale face and white-blonde hair appeared. "Winter."

"Is something wrong?"

"Well…it doesn't pertain to the mission exactly."

Winter frowned, puzzled. "Just explain."

"The recent kidnapping by pirates."

"You mean the ones which took Lord Alexander's brother hostage."

Mendel was startled, "How did you know he was Lord Alexander's brother?"

"Maybe most of the world doesn't know who Cyan is, but we here have to know such things. And come now, the Infinitum knows everything."

"Right," Mendel said. "Anyway - he's a close friend of Sean's."

Winter nodded, suddenly comprehending. "Of course. I'll see what I can do. I actually just received word of it myself - I was on my way to inform Lord Alexander now. I'll let you know what else we learn, and send what information we have your way."

"Thank you, Winter."

"No thanks are necessary. I'll do what I can, little though it may be, to see that he's returned safely," the screen went dark before Mendel had a chance to reply.

"Thank you, Mendel."

"Are you feeling better?"

Sean nodded, "I guess I really wasn't at my best, was I? But I don't like it…how in the hell did Cyan manage to get taken hostage? He taught me how to fight - I've never seen anyone beat him, armed or unarmed. Unless they somehow managed to force his hand - hard to do in a ship that size - they never could have done it. There are better hostages to take than Cyan." His brow furrowed, as he continued his train of thought. "Pirates typically take women, or older children. People that aren't as likely to be capable of fighting back. Not men like Cyan."

Mendel shrugged, "I guess we will see. Perhaps he tried to interfere?"

"It's certainly possible," Sean said. "I wish I could do something. I don't like just sitting here hiding all the time."

"We won't be here forever," Mendel said reassuringly. "One way or another, I get the feeling we'll eventually be on the move again. Let us hope it's for positive reasons."

"Right," Sean took a deep breath, and his usual calm focus descended. "I guess we'd better get back to working toward those positive reasons. Keep me posted on Cy."

"Of course."

Sean smiled at him, "Thanks, lover."

Chapter Five

Merchant class star ship 00061225, the Dragonfly

"This is a bad idea, Captain."

Einn didn't bother to look up from the papers he was reading, "So you've said, Lark. Over and over and over again."

"It bears repeating!" Faller snapped. "Just because you've got your balls on the man doesn't mean it's a good idea to be carting him all around the stars."

Standing, Einn narrowed his eyes as he glared back. "Watch it. I might have a personal interest, but I'm not going to put it before my crew and ship. I'm far more interested in the million points he just tossed us. Unless you want to remain the tool of that IG scum."

"You know I don't," Faller grit his teeth. "But I don't think kidnapping Cyan Alexander is going to help us at all."

Einn started, "How the hell did you know?"

"I'm not stupid," was all Faller said. "It's in my best interests - the crew's best interests - to know who exactly can afford to hire us to kidnap him."

In a flash, Einn had reached across his desk to fist his hand in Faller's shirt, dragging the man roughly across the desk. "You better hope to whatever gods you believe in that you're not playing more than one side. Did you contact him?"

Faller just glared mutinously. "Let me go, Captain. I haven't told anyone anything. This is your idiotic game to play. I'm just letting you know that it's a bad idea. Beyond that, your crew doesn't like playing host to a fucking Rehabber." He brushed himself off as Einn finally let him go. "I would almost say it's better to just blow off our stops and light to Kreska, then double back."

"That'll look suspicious," Einn dropped back into his seat, expression still pissed. "So far our esteemed 'boss' hasn't seen fit to contact me. And I don't plan on contacting him." He glanced at Faller, "He probably thinks we either fucked up or are trying to mess with him. Either way, I'm sure we'll be getting bitched at shortly. All the more reason we should just stay our course - first we dispose of the haul, then the drop off, then we meander our way to Kreska."

"Fine." Faller turned to leave, "Just make sure you don't get too distracted. Things fall apart when the Captain stops doing his job."

"And when the hell have I ever failed to do my job because of a lover or possible lover? I don't think I'm the one that we need to worry about."

Faller whipped around, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what you think it means. Unless you always spar with someone who represents a group you've spent a lifetime hating. Don't know what to do with one who turns out not to be a cretin?"

"You're pulling things out of the air, Einn." Faller turned away in disgust, once more attempting to leave. "Maybe I'm just tired of fighting myself. Stars know the rest of you can't fight worth shit without some sort of firearm or magics."

Einn laughed, "Yeah, yeah. Why am I not surprised it's two humans who are obsessed with beating each other for no other reason than to beat each other? Humans make no sense."

"Just because you're too frail to take a beating doesn't mean the rest of us are strange."

"Frail? Che - try and break me, go ahead. I guarantee falling off a cliff is a lot more painful than anything you can muster."

Faller snorted, opening the door and stepping outside. "We'll just see sometime, Captain. Finish reading those inventory lists before we arrive at Bangkok."

"Just who exactly is the captain here?" Einn grumbled as he reached for the papers he'd tossed aside earlier.

An hour or so later, notes and signature given to the list, he rose and stretched and went in search of his first mate once more. Leisurely he made his way to the bridge.

"Faller, here are the reports." He paused, taking in the displeasure on the faces of his crew. He looked to Faller, "What's wrong?"

"We were just about to call you," his first mate replied. "We might have some minor trouble coming up."

"Oh?" Einn frowned as he moved to take his seat overlooking the bridge. He looked briefly at Cyan, who stood quietly nearby, asking silently why he was on the bridge. Usually the Guard kept to his room and the exercise chamber.

Cyan shrugged, "I was bored. Thought I'd find someone to talk to."

"Mmm…" Einn replied before shifting all of his attention to the problem at hand. "So what are the details, Faller?"

"There's a merchant-class vessel about thirty clicks away. They say they're having engine trouble and require assistance. I told them I was awaiting orders from you before responding. Seems reasonable enough, but…"

"But."

"We're only about seventy two hours from Bangkok. An emergency ping should have been able to reach the planet…they say their equipment is too old for a ping that strong, which is feasible. It's an older model ship," Faller shrugged, "and often no one wants to waste money on equipment they don't think they'll ever have to use."

"Mmm…"

"You think it's a trap?" Cyan asked. "But why would anyone be here searching for you?"

"They're not searching for us," Einn corrected. "They're searching for ships to raid. They're pirates. And they don't recognize us as the same." He and his crew grinned, "Which means we're doing all right, aren't we men?"

Cyan ignored the gloating, "I though pirates attacked larger vessels. What's the point in attacking another merchant-class ship?"

Faller spoke before Einn could, "I don't think how we operate is any of your business, Rehabber."

"Maybe I can help."

"What could you possibly do to help us?"

Cyan frowned, "In case you've forgotten, I've at least as much interest as the rest of you in making sure we complete the journey. And I have knowledge and the like that you don't."

"Such as?"

"Such as the codes and clearances you need to escape suspicion and attack."

Einn quirked a brow at that, "What do you mean?" He motioned Faller to silence, "But first, to answer your earlier question. We're traveling as actual merchants; most of the goods on our ship are just for show. So if we're stopped and inspected - no one is the wiser. It's a fairly common way of transporting our stolen goods."

"As to the ship out there - that's a rather common trick with vessels like ours. As Faller said, the ship's story is plausible - it's genuinely happened. And when an honest, upstanding merchant such as we're pretending to be stops to help the unfortunates it's rather an easy raid to make. Much easier than attacking the sorts of vessels we attack. Often merchants double as private transports for goods, hired by wealthy clients who don't want to shell out twi