[AP] PRODIGAL SON, A Rogue's Tale - Book II

[Scion Drakhar]

83. The Tangled Web

So, after the medical staff dealt with Ea't, Lu and I figured we better toe the line and let the doc have his way... or risk endin' up in some chemical restraints ourselves. So I left him with the Doc to get some rest and beamed back over to the Predator to do the same. By that point it had already been a long enough day that I thought I might just be able to lie down and fall asleep without havin' to endure all the ghosts and demons that like to scream inside my head.

It wasn't to be, though. I'd just stepped out of the shower and was workin' on my nightly tooth-shinin' when Communications Officer Nedley commed me to let me know S'jar t'Chk was demandin' my attention. I probably don't have to tell you that upon hearin' this particular bit of news at this particular moment felt a little like bein' kicked in the gut while someone emptied a bucket of water over my head. My blood literally felt like it had just been chilled over ice. There was even this strange sense of prescience. The first thing to go through my mind was, "this is it."

I didn't know what that meant, of course. But I could feel it just the same. We'd reached a turnin' point, S'jar t'Chk and I, and this was one of those moments that define a life. You have what came before the moment. Then you have what comes after, and the two are not the same. Like, 'my life before my mother overdosed on morpha,' and 'my life after.' 'My life before Gil Jerigan vanished and left me and Hayla to rot,' and 'my life after.' 'My life before one beat to hell discoverer,' and 'my life after.' Yeah. Well, this was one of those moments. I knew it in my bones and felt it from the pit of my stomach to the hairs on the backs of my arms.

So I told Nedley to let t'Chk know I was on my way, lest the son of a bitch throw another temper tantrum. Then I cleaned my toothbrush, wiped my mouth, and sat down at my desk with wet hair and a towel around my neck. I didn't really think about what kind of attention that would get me but, well, the short version is that it was not an enjoyable experience. When the channel first connected and t'Chk turned to look at me I got the impression that he was spoilin' for a fight. A moment later, though, and he was lookin' at me like I was a nice slice of prime rib with a big pile of buttery mashed potatoes on the side. I didn't give him the satisfaction of squirmin', but the entire time I was on the line with him I was wishin' I'd put my shirt on before takin' the call.

I won't bother with the play by play. It was typical t'Chk: sweatin' eyeballs, a big toothy grin that seemed to cut the bottom third of his face off... and madness, or at least a pretty good imitation of it. Sometimes I know he's sane. Others I honestly can't tell if he's losin' it or not. I mean one moment he'll be sittin' there seemin' almost... I don't know... human? There's this culture and refinement that shows up from time to time. I can't pinpoint it, but it's in little things like his posture or the way he holds a pen or a spoon. But then, a split second later, he'll be so off his rocker that I find myself wonderin' if he's gonna try comin' through the camera at me.

In any case, the point of the call was to give me a job. Now, like every job he's ever given me, at first glance it's nothin'. It looks like a waste of my time. "Go destroy these ships," with a list of IFF ID's and a general location. But I'm wise to him, now, right? I don't trust the son of a bitch any farther'n I can spit. Unfortunately, given my current sitch, 'no' is not an answer I can give. S'jar t'Chk is my clan leader and pissin' him off means becomin' unwelcome in Yaki space, where I now have a five hundred million credit ball and chain. So I agree to the job. But as soon as he's off the line, I ask Legion to look at it. I want to know what the son of a bitch is really up to. Where's the hook, you know? What poison pill is he tryin' to get me to swallow?

Legion finds it instantly. The ships t'Chk wants destroyed include a centaur with a pair of fully armed novas and two discos runnin' escort. Which meant I could have jumped in, destroyed all five of those ships, and then jumped out again before the sec-def could even say nasty things to me. But here's the catch: aboard that centaur were seven passengers. Five of 'em were mercs with some heavy duty combat and asset protection experience. The other two were the 'assets' those goons were protectin'. One of whom is a woman named Mia Combes, and even with just the passport photo to get at a look at her it's easy to see that Mia is one stunningly beautiful woman. Long, honey-blonde curls frame a face that would look just about right on a queen. Her skin is this healthy, golden color that I've never seen before. And she's got high, broad cheekbones and a jaw line that give her face this... hell, I don't know... the word 'perfect' comes to mine. A perfect shape. But, lookin' at her, it's the eyes that get your attention. They're this bright, golden, hazel-green that is so formidable that it's easy to imagine this woman cuttin' you to ribbons with nothin' more than a few well chosen words.

A quick glance at her bio tells me that she's an expert in art history and restoration with affiliations in nearly a dozen museums on three planets. That alone was enough for the wheels to start turnin'. A moment later, though, I looked at the last passenger; her son Aaric. Now Aaric Combes is just a seven jazura old boy, but one look at him and even without Legion spellin' it out for me I knew what I was lookin' at. The kid's got his mother's colorin' and the same scary pride in his eyes, but he's also big for his age, and by big I mean really big. At his age I was think I was somewhere between a hundred and thirty five and a hundred and forty centimeters (4.5 feet) and weighed about thirty kilos (65lbs). Accordin' to his vitals this kid is a hundred and fifty eight centimeters tall (5'2") with a mass of fifty two kilos (115 lbs). He's also got this thick mane on top of his head that looks vaguely leonine and there's somethin' in the shape of him, you know? In the curves of his eyes and the way his nose meets his face, in the lines of his neck and shoulders and jaw that, well... let's just say that it was just obvious and undeniable. Aaric Combes is Thane's son.

Hooo-yeah. Like I said, it was one of those moments. There's what came before it, and now there's what comes after it, and ne'er the two shall meet. S'jar t'Chk, my clan leader, just ordered me to kill the family of the Yaki dockmaster. So, yeah. When I say that I was starin' at those pictures with this sinkin' feelin' in my guts, wonderin' how the hell I was gonna handle this, you can probably feel me, right?

I mean I wasn't gonna do it. Hell, even if it wasn't Thane's family I don't think I could bring myself to give the order to kill some kid who's balls haven't even dropped yet. Not with the ghosts I'm already carryin' around. But, even if I could, what the hell would I say to Thane afterward? "I was just followin' orders"? "I killed your family at the whim of a madman"? Wouldn't that be one great big pile of steamin' shit? If I were Thane I sure as hell wouldn't be inclined to forgive and forget that particular decision, even if I didn't know beforehand what I was doin'. I mean does incompetence excuse that kind of injury? No. No, it does not. So frak no, I wasn't gonna do it. Hell no.

On the other hand if I don't complete the job... well, t'Chk owns me now, doesn't he? I mean I've been here long enough to know that, as a part of his clan, I can't refuse his orders... not without facin' some pretty dire consequences afterward; and the Yaki aren't exactly the wrist-slappin' types. So, with that one order, t'Chk just put me between one hell of a rock and a hard place, and the rock is this great big frakkin' boulder that's already tippin' in my direction.

So I was reelin'. I mean I hadn't even gotten to the point where I was examinin' my options. I was still sittin' there behind my desk thinkin', "oh shit, I am so frakked," when Nedley comms me again. Seems I had another call, and this time it was from Thane. Which, considerin' the timin', was somewhat conspicuous, don'tcha think? So, before tellin' Nedley to put the call through I just stopped for a moment. Both S'jar t'Chk and Thane callin' me in the middle of the night and practically on top of each other was just too odd to be a random coincidence, especially when t'Chk's call pointed me at the big guy's family like a killer doberman. So, for an instant, I just sat there stunned into complete paralysis. I think everythin' from, "Thane has a spy in my fleet," to, "this is some kind of practical joke," went through my mind. But, after a moment, I realized that I just didn't have enough information to know what the frak was goin' on and I wasn't about to get any more just sittin' there with my mouth hangin' open. Besides, Thane is not someone I can ignore. So, a moment later, I opened the feed and there I was lookin' at Thane. He was in his office down on the shipyard, a few paces away from the camera and standin' with his back to me. After I clear my throat he turns and looks at me.

"We need to meet," he says, and even if I didn't have a contract on his kid in my inbox there's somethin' in his tone that tells me my night is about to get a lot more interestin'. He then gives me directions to his private dock, the one Ricky made use of when he attacked the shipyard for Huritas, and tells me he'll be waitin'. In other words, 'get yer ass down here now, boy, and do it now.'

I didn't ask any questions. I didn't ask why he was callin' in the middle of the night or why we couldn't just chat over the comm. Considerin' that t'Chk just issued me a death warrant for his kid I was pretty sure I already had the answer to both of those questions. So I simply nodded and told him to give me twenty mizura (54 minutes). He scowled at the delay and told me to hurry the hell up. Then he closed the comm.

So here I am, still tastin' toothpaste and wonderin' what the hell is goin' on here. I've got a feelin', though, and even though I don't like what this feelin' is tellin' me I know better than to ignore it. I've also gotten enough of my people killed by actin' rashly that I'd like to take this slow and play my next card carefully. Very carefully. So... I think I'm gonna call my XO and Master Guns Gisler... and see if maybe we can keep S'jar t'Chk in the dark for a little while.

********

Thane winced at the jump flash. He'd been standing at the window for over twenty mizura (1 hour) and drinking a cup of Tieguanyin tea while waiting for the boy to finally get around to gracing him with his presence when the sudden flash of light announced the arrival of a large ship. The flash temporarily blinded him and he closed his eyes reflexively. When he opened them again the windows were still too dark to see through, although they were lightening quickly. Even without seeing the ship, though, Thane knew who the flash belonged to. The kid had parked a jump beacon about thirty klicks from the shipyard and used it regularly. Yet, when the windows cleared, the ship he saw resting at that beacon was not the one he'd been expecting. Instead of the griffin sentinel, Predator, he was looking at the boy's kariudo, Necromancer. A moment later he saw a much smaller vessel separate from the larger and begin making way for his shipyard. He reached out and touched the window, then used his thumb and forefinger to "spread" the image, zooming in on the ship. It was a hyperion vanguard that Thane was also familiar with.

"Huh," he grunted at the oddity. His mastiff, Duke, barked once in reply.

A few mizura later the hyperion vanguard, Shirubāurufu, connected to his private dock. Several mizura after that the lift from his dock arrived in his apartment. The hatch opened and Drakhar's Split bodyguard and four marines stepped through it. A moment later the boy followed and instantly met Thane's eyes. For a single heartbeat Thane found himself unsettled. He was expecting uncertainty, even hesitation in the boy's face. Instead he saw confidence and... sympathy?

Before anyone could utter so much as a word, however, Thane's dogs began barking. They dropped their chewies and leapt off couches and chairs to scramble forward and get a sense of the new arrivals. Despite the seriousness of the moment Thane couldn't help but smile as the boy's battle-hardened marines lost their composure under the onslaught. Several took one or two nervous steps backward while several others began laughing. One simply stared in complete awe at Max, who had immediately run up to the boy and leapt upon him. The puppy was currently trying to stand on the boy's shoulders while Drakhar grinned and shook the dog's face by the cheeks.

"Drakhar," Thane called to the boy. The sound of his voice turned every head save one. The puppy still didn't know any better.

"Thane," the boy greeted him, instantly grave. At the sudden lapse in attention Max pushed forward and gave the boy's face a lick from chin to forehead causing Drakhar to cry out in alarm and take a step backward.

Thane chuckled. "Max!" he called and snapped his fingers. The puppy dropped down from the boy's shoulders and took several paces toward Thane before looking back at the boy. His hesitation prompted an instant reprimand from Maggie and Duke, who snarled and snapped at him as they herded him toward Thane. A moment later Thane had the puppy lie down. Then he glanced at Gamen Longbones to let his new manservant know that he was now responsible for the dogs' behavior. When he turned back to Drakhar he once again noted the strange expression in the boy's eyes, and he once again found it disturbing.

"Come," he said to the boy. "Leave your dogs with mine." It took a heartbeat or two for his barb to register. Then several of the marines chuckled. Drake nodded to his enormous bodyguard, who nodded in return without ever taking his eyes off Thane. 'Dockmaster, Clan Leader, whatever,' those eyes told him, 'harm my lord and I will end you.' Thane nodded his approval.

A moment later Drakhar stepped up beside him. Thane greeted him with a nod and a handshake. "Good ye came," he told the boy, then turned and started leading the way toward his office.

"Aye," the boy sighed, sounding both determined and resigned. Thane frowned. It just didn't quite fit. He glanced down at the younger man but saw Drakhar looking around instead.

"Your apartment's coming along," the younger man said.

"Aye," Thane allowed while once again lamenting the loss of nearly ten billion credits worth of precious historical artifacts. "Though if you ever do get yer hands on the tattooed madman who set it all ablaze before going toe to toe with ye in me rose garden, I'd appreciate it greatly if ye made him die slow."

Drakhar snorted, brief and bitter. "Noted," he replied.

Thane looked down at the boy. "I'd appreciate it even more if ye let me see to it."

"I'll keep it in mind," the boy assured him. "Though Seldon's already promised to shoot him if she gets the chance. Personally I'm more worried about the man Ricky made his escape with, and the Teladi clan leader he was workin' for when he set fire to this place."

"Aye," Thane agreed with a sigh, then shook his head. "Ye know, smaller minds have started to wonder if it was ye who brought all this trouble with ya."

"Just the smaller ones?" the boy replied without missing a beat. He was still studying the apartment, presumably looking at the repairs and improvements.

"Perhaps one or two of the larger ones as well," Thane allowed. "But if yer asking about ME, well, I'm of the notion that ye're more like a lantern shining in a dark place." He glanced out the window at an akurei attack frigate lumbering through the dark beyond the boy's kariudo. "All ye've really done is to reveal the vermin that were already here." The akurei was called the 'Balefire', and it belonged to S'jar t'Chk. Thane scowled at it for a moment and wondered if t'Chk was monitoring him, the boy, or both. After a moment he turned back to Drakhar and saw the man looking up at him. Once again he noticed the gravity in those silver eyes and once again it unsettled him. A moment later they stepped into his office. When the hatch was sealed he ensured that the SCIF protocols were engaged. Once the room was confirmed to be secure from any possibility of outside surveillance Thane turned back to his guest. "I need to show you something," he said.

"Right back atcha," Drakhar replied and Thane froze. The boy was eyeing one of his easy chairs longingly. After a moment of silence he looked up and back to Thane.

Thane arched an eyebrow. "What?" he asked. "Tell me."

The kid squinted at him, as if looking into a strong wind, and his tongue moved behind his upper lip to suck on one of his front teeth. "Well," the boy began, sounding wary and cautious, "S'jar t'Chk ordered me destroy a centaur and escort in Montalaar."

Thane frowned. "Aye?" he prompted, already feeling terror's icy fingers in his guts.

"Well," the boy shrugged, "I recently found out that t'Chk has been less than upfront with me about the jobs he's been sendin' my way. Turns out a few of the contracts he's given me have been..." the kid grimaced and rolled his shoulders as if shaking off some discomfort... or readying himself for a fight, "well, let's just say they've been cuttin' in at least two directions at once."

Thane scowled and lifted his chin. The fear in his belly was making him impatient, and the boy's meandering was making it worse.

"He had me kill one of Gorda's contacts," Drakhar told him. "I'm guessin' you heard about that?"

"Aye?" Thane growled.

"Well there's been more," the boy stated. "He had me hit some of Abmanckusset's customers, and a delivery of space fuel and slaves meant for a customer of Nicodemus. The more I looked the more I discovered that t'Chk has been using me to disrupt business or attack associates of other clan members, and that it's been going on for... well, for awhile now. So at this point I don't trust S'jar t'Chk. I don't trust him at all. Which means when he calls me up in the middle of the night and tells me to go kill people I'm now of the opinion that my 'need to know' includes who and what I'm gonna destroy by hittin' the targets he gives me."

The kid paused again and stared Thane in the eye. "Well?" Thane demanded. "Spit it out, boy!"

"Thane," the boy said, and his tone made the hair stand up on Thane's neck. "He gave me the job about twenty mizura ago." The kid arched an eyebrow. "Just before you called me." The spectral fingers in Thane's gut became a fist and seized a handful of his guts. The kid was watching him and nodded at whatever he saw in Thane's face. "Yeah," he said, sounding hard and cold. "The son of a bitch ordered me to kill your son and his mother."

Thane drew himself up. He was vaguely aware of his heart throbbing in his neck and temples. His hands were already itching to grab the boy by the neck. "And you?" he asked, uncommonly quiet. "What did ye say to this 'order'?"

Drakhar's eyes narrowed. "Calm down, Thane," he said, cold as frost and smooth as glass. "Your family's safe."

"They are?!" Thane demanded. "I have your word?!"

Drakhar held his eye, calm and steady. "Aye, Thane. You have it. I'm not in the habit of murderin' children and," he pointed a finger at the big man, "naive as it may be, I consider you an ally if not a friend. So take a breath, will ya?"

Thane did just that. He took a deep breath and deliberately unclenched his fists. As his blood pressure dropped he felt momentarily dizzy and stepped backward to take a seat on the edge of his desk.

"Besides," the boy went on, pointedly lookin' out at the 'Balefire' in the distance, "I'm beginnin' to think that son of a bitch means to kill me."

Thane took another steadying breath. "Aye," he said, which instantly prompted the boy to turn back to him with a very interested expression. Instead of letting him ask his questions, though, Thane cut him off. "So," he asked the boy, "what did you tell him?"

The boy's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and he watched Thane intently. "I said, 'yes', of course. What else could I say? Then I gave orders for the Predator to jump to Montalaar and approach that centaur at flank speed."

Thane looked up, suddenly alarmed again. The boy arched an eyebrow and for a moment they just stared at each other, each keeping their secrets. Then the boy looked down at the communicator on his wrist. He activated the holographic projector and started a video clip, projecting it in the air between them so that Thane could see it.

"This was transmitted to me just before we landed," the boy told him as Thane stood and stepped forward to see more clearly. In the hologram shimmering above Drakhar's wrist Thane saw Mia and Aaric staring defiantly at the camera. "As you can see," Drakhar said, "they're safe. And that's my stateroom aboard the Predator, so they're bein' treated with respect."

Thane's eyes switched from the image to the boy's face. "And the crew?" he asked softly.

"The crew," the boy replied confidently and without hesitation, "and your family's bodyguards, are in the brig." Drakhar shrugged. "The marines weren't exactly cooperative," he explained.

Thane took another breath and felt himself tremble again. "How?" he asked. "How did you?"

"We boarded the ship," the boy replied. "As far as I know only two lives were lost." He shrugged apologetically. "We had to destroy the escort," he explained.

Thane glared at the boy, but managed to hold his tongue. He wasn't used to being out of control, and discovering that one of his wives and favorite son were now in this man's possession was not much of a comfort. At the same time he was inclined to believe Drakhar. The boy was looking him in the eye and didn't seem at all uncomfortable, which Thane didn't think would be the case had his family actually been harmed. "Ye managed all this and only killed two?"

"Both of the disco pilots were killed," Drakhar stated. "I'm told it was unavoidable. The nova pilots ejected and we picked 'em up." Thane simply stared at the boy for a moment. He found it incredible. After a moment the younger man shrugged. "My guys are trained to spare lives," he said. "They don't kill if they don't have to."

Thane exhaled in a brief, disbelieving snort.

"What?" the kid said defensively. "Captives are valuable for all sorts of reasons."

"Aye," Thane said. "But ye don't trade in slaves."

Drakhar shrugged, then nodded. "Aye," he allowed. "That's true. But look," he said, "the point is that your family is safe and sound while t'Chk thinks I did what he tol' me to. He'll learn the truth eventually, and when that happens all frakkin' hell is gonna break loose, but this buys us some time." The boy stopped and focused on Thane. "I say 'us' assumin' that you're willin' to help me...?"

Thane exhaled heavily in another attempt to dispel the tension in his guts. He met the boy's eyes. "You're fairly skilled at placing me in your debt, boy," he growled.

Drakhar squinted but held his eye. "That's not why I did it," he stated. "And they're not my hostages, if that's what you're worried about. Right now the Predator is up in Spires of Elusion cos that's where I need t'Chk lookin' when he thinks of me, instead of here on this shipyard." He shook a finger at Thane. "But I'm gonna turn your wife and son, their bodyguards, and all the survivin' crew over to you just as soon as it's safe to do so. Look," he said, turning his hand over, "I'm not sure what t'Chk is tryin' to accomplish here but I get the impression that whatever it is I'm not gonna like it and, considerin' what he just tried to do to you..."

"You claim," Thane pointed out.

"You think I'm lyin' to ya?! Makin' it up?!" Drakhar was indignant.

"I think if it was a lie it would serve ye well," Thane stated and watched the boy's eyes grow round. Then Thane sighed and shook his head. "But no," he said. "I don't think ye're lying to me." He stared at the boy for a moment. Finally he took a deep, swelling breath. Then he nodded. "Alright, boy," he said. Then he shook his great, shaggy head and sighed explosively. Finally he glanced at the younger man. "Ye won't like it," he said.

"Say again?" Drakhar echoed.

Thane leaned back to study the boy from atop his nose. "What t'Chk has planned for ye," he explained. "Ye won't like it."

"So you do know what he's up to," Drakhar stated.

Thane stared at the boy for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "Aye," he said. "And you're not the only one he troubles. Gorda called me after you killed Hatibmanckarsat. That was an attack on our business," Thane arched a huge shaggy eyebrow to underscore his point, "but it was also a message, and a clear one at that. Wouldn't you say?"

"I would," the boy replied.

"Aye, but it was also a lie," Thane told him and watched the boy shake his head with frustration. "It was bold," Thane stated. "Using you that way. It was, in fact, too bold. S'jar t'Chk," Thane practically spat the name, "is not bold by nature. So after my chat with Gorda I began to wonder just where S'jar t'Chk's newfound confidence might be coming from."

"You learn anythin'?"

"Oh, aye," Thane nodded. "I learned plenty. I learned that he's been pulling your strings and making ye dance to his tune from the moment ye met. I also learned that he's got at least seven other clans allied with him."

"Seven?!" The boy's eyes went wide. "That's a third of the council!"

Thane nodded sagely. "Aye, lad," he said. "'Tis at that. But don't ye worry about that right now."

"Don't worry about it?!" Drakhar looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Why the hell wouldn't I worry about it?!"

Thane turned and looked at the younger man shrewdly. He was trying to make a decision and, with only a moment's reflection, he understood that it was actually the same decision he'd been faced with a week ago, a decision he'd ultimately made because of his dog, Fred. During his conversation with Gorda and Andre, Thane had begun to suspect the truth about S'jar t'Chk's agenda. Several stazuras worth of investigation and one conversation with t'Chk later and he knew he was correct. The crazy little cocksucker was going after the boy's complexes, or, to be precise, he was going after the nuke factories. The instant that possibility occurred to him Thane knew he needed to prevent it. T'Chk simply could not be allowed to gain control of the boy's Weaver's Tempest complex. The question, however, as Andre had observed, was "how?" How could they remove a sitting clan leader before that clan leader decided to use the boy, and all of the boy's weapons, against them? Thane now had his answer. They could not. Fortunately, however, the boy had decided to take care of the second part of that question for them.

Thane took a breath and leaned back into his chair. Drakhar was watching him and once again Thane thought of that wolf, staring at him from the edge of a thicket while snow fell between them; calm, cautious, and ready. He suspected the boy was also the solution to the other part of that question. The problem, however, was that Thane wasn't ready to set this particular young man on that particular path. It wasn't a question of the boy's abilities. In fact it was just the opposite. If successful against t'Chk then, in one wozura, this boy would be instrumental in deposing two Yaki clan leaders. Thane couldn't help but wonder what would happen when the boy finally woke up to the reality of how powerful he was. What would he do, then? What would he become? It was a variable Thane couldn't predict and it terrified him.

The kid turned his hands over impatiently. 'Well?'

Thane smirked and chided himself for it. He couldn't help himself, though. Despite his impertinence, or possibly even because of it, he liked the boy. But, once again, he was about to gamble much, far too much, on a future he couldn't see and on a boy he couldn't anticipate. And affection just wasn't enough justification.

But what other choice was there? Given the constraints of time and circumstance Thane simply didn't see one, other than letting t'Chk have his way, which could not be allowed to happen.

"To business, then," he said.

"Finally," Drakhar replied. "I was startin' to wonder if you slept with your eyes open."

"This is my conversation with S'jar t'Chk," Thane said, giving the boy a wry look. "He must have called you right after it was concluded."

The boy gestured for him to get on with it already and Thane activated the recording, then hit the control on his desk to reverse the display. Within it Thane's own face was displayed on the left while S'jar t'Chk's was on the right. Thane watched the boy as the boy watched the recording.

"Dockmaster?" S'jar t'Chk bared his teeth on screen. "What can I do for you tonight? Oh WAIT! Let me guess. You're calling to beg me off the boy? NO! DON'T! STOP IT! You're HURTING him!"

Drake sighed and rested his ass on the back of Thane's couch but otherwise remained calm. If anything he looked resigned, like a parent with an unruly toddler.

"Oh! God!" T'Chk complained at Thane's lack of a response. "You're no fun at all! Okay, fine! What do you want?!"

"What do I want?" Thane heard himself reply. "And here I was meanin' t'ask you the same question."

"Me-ee?" S'jar t'Chk asked with wide eyes, pressing the tips of all ten fingers to his chest. "Well, I want a big pink pony with a fluffy tail and a golden saddle! Oh, and the re-release version of the original Beatles anthology! And, hmm, there was one more thing... oh yeah! A GREAT BIG BOX OF GO FRAK YOURSELF!!!" The boy glanced at Thane while t'Chk continued to entertain himself. "Or," t'Chk shrugged playfully, "you can just give me everything the kid's made off the nividium so far..." the boy's eyes snapped back to the display, "...aaaand half of all his future profits. How much HAS he made off that nividium, anyway? I ask strictly for accounting purposes..."

"Hmph!" Drake snorted through his nose.

"That's between you and him," Thane's earlier self replied. "If you want to..."

"Then why the hell are you calling me?!" T'Chk snarled. Then his eyes went wide and round as he adopted his vacant expression again. "Unless... hmmm... could it be that you're afraid your cute, floppy haired little golden boy is about to GET EATEN?!"

Drakhar glanced at Thane again. Thane felt one of his eyebrows twitch upward. "So what's your plan, t'Chk?" Thane asked from the display. "Are you goin' to do to him what he did the harridan?" The boy's eyes narrowed. "Then cast him from your clan so you can seize his assets?"

"Why Thane," S'jar t'Chk crooned, "what a terrible thing to suggest." Drakhar's jaw flexed once.

On screen Thane's face was completely impassive. His eyes accusatory. After a moment t'Chk's smile slipped and he dropped his gaze just for an instant in a momentary display of doubt. Before him Thane watched the boy's eyes narrow just a hair. An instant later S'jar t'Chk looked back with his teeth bared and a mad expression in his eyes. "What's it to you, anyway?!" he demanded.

"That boy's worth a lot of money to me..." Thane began and T'Chk practically lunged at the screen.

"HE'S MINE!" S'jar t'Chk roared, spraying more spittle at the camera. On screen Thane saw himself harden and flex his jaw. He remembered having to resist the urge to wipe his face. T'Chk was shaking a finger at the camera. "He's mine and you can't have him! I brought him into the Yaki! I made him part of my clan! I helped him get his footing!" He leaned in so close to the camera that Thane could once again see the reflection of t'Chk's desk in his eyes. "I fattened that little piggy up, Thane. I did! Which means I'm the one that gets to eat him now that it's time for the slaughter!"

Thane paused the playback, leaving t'Chk's face frozen in a mad expression. Drakhar was looking right at him when he looked back up. The kid's eyes were like chips of ice. After a moment the boy pursed his lips belligerently, then, finally, he nodded. "Ayep," Drakhar said. "He's been plannin' this from the beginnin'."

"Aye," Thane confirmed it. "He's been dealing himself a hand since the day you joined his clan."

"He encouraged me to build," the boy said quietly.

"Because he could not," Thane pointed out. "Most of us do not enjoy the same cordial relations that you do throughout the commonwealth. So aye, he wanted ye to build, encouraged ye to build... all the while intent upon taking everything ye've wrought away from ye. So, as he sees it, ye've given him two great complexes and it's..."

"The hell I have!" Drakhar was on his feet. His eyes were blazing. "If that twitchy bastard wants what's mine then he can come and try to take it from me!"

Inwardly Thane felt both admiration and terror. He couldn't help but admire the boy, even now when his anger made a fool of him. Simultaneously he knew what Drakhar had done to families N'jy and T'kr. He'd even seen a video clip from an argon trader showing the boy's nukes pummeling the N'jy family shipyard like rain rippling the surface of a pool, rain that eventually overwhelmed even the station's forty gigajoules of shielding and began pounding on the armor of the shipyard's hull. Finally, just before the end, great big clouds of burning atmosphere began escaping out into the void. Then, finally, the shipyard's reactors had gone critical and the massive station had gone up like a brief, brilliant new star. Thane took a breath and wondered if S'jar t'Chk had any idea what kind of fury he was about to unleash. Outwardly, though, he kept his face carefully schooled.

"I wager," he said, drawing the boy's eye, "that S'jar t'Chk now has everything he needs to condemn ye. His having you kill Hatibmanckarsat was a shot across the bow, lad. It means he believes he's ready for the battle to come. He has a majority of the council convinced already." Thane smiled an evil smile. "Or thinks he does, anyway..."

The boy blinked, catching the not quite hidden suggestion in Thane's words.

"D'ye know what he used to be?" Thane asked. "'S'Jar bloody t'Chk'?" He turned and spat into the snake plant beside his desk. "Before he joined the clans?" He raised an eyebrow at the boy.

Drakhar's eyes narrowed. "No," he said. "I never thought about it."

"Ye should have," Thane told him. "Ye have to know yer enemies, boy."

"I didn't..."

"THEN YOU'RE A DAMN FOOL!" Thane was half out of his chair with both fists planted on the desk. The boy was staggered by the force and suddenness of Thane's condemnation. The anger and righteousness had completely vanished from the boy's face and for an instant he was so shocked that he simply stared back at Thane, slack-jawed and with eyes as wide and round as moons. Thane held his eye for a moment and then nodded. "Be wary of sentiment, boy," he told the younger man. Then he smiled an evil, dangerous smile. "Even with me." Drakhar nodded and Thane settled back into his chair. "S'jar t'Chk was an 'accountant," Thane informed the boy.

Drakhar blinked. He was still stunned by Thane's outburst, and the new information only exaggerated his astonishment. "An accountant?!"

"Aye," Thane nodded, "at first. Then he discovered 'piracy'," Thane curled his lip as he said the word. "Corporate piracy, anyway. Me'thinks he still confuses the one fer t'other. In any case he'd perform his high handed theft by settin' up fake businesses to buy the stock of vulnerable companies. D'ye see? He'd invest in a business. That was how he destroyed them. Once his 'dummy' corporations purchased enough of a company to give him controlling interest he'd consolidate his stock and appoint himself 'Corporate Executive Officer'. Then he'd sell all the company's assets, gut the thing, and then sell off his stock, leaving nothing but a ruined shell behind him. And he'd manage to make himself a fortune or so with every step, including the sale of the stock."

The boy shook his head. "I can't point fingers. It's not much different from what I do with stolen ships."

"THE HELL YOU SAY!" Thane thundered at the boy. "He's a treacherous little windbag I wouldn't trust alone in my bathroom!"

The boy's eyes narrowed. "And me?" he asked, confused.

"Fishing for praise, are ye?" Thane asked wryly.

"No, that's..."

"YE'RE A PROPER PIRATE, ALRIGHT MATE? Ye sail your ship right down yer enemy's gullet and then TAKE WHAT YE NEED BY FORCE AND BY WILL!" Thane narrowed his eyes and looked at the boy askance, and when he spoke he spoke softly and lightly, but filled his voice with such menace that it almost sounded like the sharpening of a blade. "And now that I've stroked yer precious little ego fer ye, will ye be silent and let this old man finish his tale?"

Drakhar held up his hands. His eyes were still wide and round. He was, by then, truly off his balance. "By all means," the boy told him.

Thane glared at the younger man for a moment, concealing his amusement behind feigned hostility. Then he turned and spat into one of the snake plants beside his desk, giving himself time to swallow the grin trying to break across his face. When he looked up and met Drakhar's eye again his face was hard and cold. "The point is," he said slowly, "that S'jar bloody t'Chk is careful. He's a plotter and a schemer. He likes attention and likes to preen when he gets it, but he makes small moves; careful moves. Yet here he is firin' shots across MY bow! So what does that tell ye, lad? What do ye make of S'jar t'Chk's new-found stones?"

"He thinks he's safe," the boy replied.

"Aye," Thane nodded. "But, more precisely, he thinks he's safe from me." He leaned forward and peered into the other man's soul. "D'ye think he's right?"

The boy stared at Thane for a moment. Thane was pretty sure it wasn't the answer he was thinking about while he did, but the man he was addressing it to. "No," Drakhar said.

"Why?" Thane asked him.

Drake flexed his jaw and continued to watch Thane as if he was a wild animal that might bite. Then, finally, he glanced down, pursed his lips, and thought about the question. "Because," he said at last, "I don't think t'Chk realizes..." the boy frowned.

"Aye?" Thane prodded and the boy glanced at him.

"I think that to t'Chk this is..." He frowned. "...not a game, exactly, but maybe..." he squinted as he thought about it, "..maybe like theater." He met Thane's eye. "Like you said, he likes to be seen. So, for him it's all about the show. He wants people to believe he's dangerous... so he does things like torture a man while havin' a chat with me," the boy shrugged, "to make him seem that way."

Thane arched an eyebrow at the boy and waited.

"But," Drakhar leaned back again and slowly shook his head, "he's not really crazy. It's just a... a kind of act. I mean he really did torture that guy, at least I think he did, but it only had... what?" Thane watched the boy sort it out. "Relevance?" He squinted into space as he thought about it. "Yeah. It only had relevance because there were people to witness it and then talk about it. It was..." he shrugged. "It was a show." He met Thane's eye again. "Theater."

"Aye," Thane nodded. "And?"

The boy frowned, unsure of what Thane was driving at. "Well..." he stammered. "I..." He frowned and stared at the front of Thane's desk. After a moment he met Thane's eye again. Thane watched the boy's jaw flex. "I don't think he knows the difference between this... act... that he's created and," the boy shrugged, "real life. He just... it's like..." Drakhar squinted, then shook his head once from side to side. Finally he met Thane's eye again. "I just get the impression sometimes that he's had everything handed to him. So he doesn't know, he can't know, what it really is to fight for what he needs..."

"Aye," Thane said approvingly.

"Yeah?"

"He comes from old money," Thane told him. "His pappy and his pappy before him all grew up surrounded by so much wealth that not a one of 'em could ever imagine being poor. They lived lives in houses so big they closed off whole wings because they didn't need 'em and never once had to be bothered with things like preparing a meal or opening a door for themselves." Thane sneered. "Their lives were filled with priceless artwork and furniture worth more than the entire district that ye grew up in."

"Not sayin' much," Drakhar muttered.

"They wore clothes so fine that a factory worker would have to work ten years just to afford a single pair of their pants," Thane went on seamlessly, "and wore jewels worth more than that same man would make in ten lifetimes. And, to them, all of it was worth only as much as the admiration and envy of their peers when they showed it off at whatever lawn or dinner party they were strutting about. Have you ever seen the treasures aboard his ship?"

Drakhar nodded. "Aye," he said. "Once. He invited us to dinner and had it on display but..."

"Just thrown about like so much trash," Thane finished for him, not bothering to hide his disgust. "He displays pieces worth millions, with ancient and storied histories, as if they had no more significance than a dirty sock. That alone says quite a bit about him, don'tcha think?"

"Aye," the boy agreed. He sounded distant, though so Thane looked up and found him staring at t'Chk's face in the display. At Thane's attention Drakhar looked up. "So," he said, "what you're really sayin' here is that t'Chk just expects the world to play along with the script in his head." The boy met Thane's eye again. "He expects to get what he wants just because he wants it."

Thane lifted his head and stared at the boy's face. For a moment he was only aware of his own amazement. While he'd been getting lost in his contempt for S'jar t'Chk the boy had casually followed his 'lesson' straight to the heart of the matter. "Aye," Thane answered him softly. "That's exactly what I'm saying." He leaned forward. "I think all t'Chk has is his plotting. He has alliances and promises and cleverness. He thinks he's rigged the game in his favor because he expects it to behave. D'ye know the difference between corporate piracy and what ye do, boy? Or d'ye need me to explain it to you?"

Drakhar's eyes narrowed as he stared at Thane. Then they widened and the boy nodded and started to smile. "Corporate piracy is only possible because of the law," he said.

Thane grinned. "Aye," he said. "And in this situation he expects his plotting to succeed because he believes he's mastered how the rules work."

"So what's the solution?"

"Best him at his own game, lad," Thane told him. "T'Chk expects his game to unfold just as he's planned it because he thinks he's already won. He thinks he's bought all your stock and that, because of this, he owns you." Thane saw the boy's jaw flex again, and the grim light in his eyes. "So use that. Let his... theater... unfold exactly the way he expects it to." Thane bared his teeth. "Then, just when he thinks he's won, show that rich man's son just how cruel life can be."

The boy smiled back at him. "I take it you have a plan?"

Thane exhaled through his nose. The moment had arrived both sooner and with far less effort than he'd expected, neither of which he was prepared for, and both of which concerned him. Once again he was about to violate his neutrality, cast his lot, and gamble far too much on not merely this incredible boy but his own ability to control the man the boy would eventually become, neither of which were certain. So he stared at the lad for a moment, and then, a moment later, realized that it didn't matter. There was only one play, and he'd known it from the instant he'd realized what t'Chk's goal really was. So Thane took a breath and spoke the words that would set the course for the future. "You need to replace him," he said.

The kid's left eyebrow twitched upward. "Say what?"

"You need to take his place as clan leader."

For a moment the boy said nothing. He simply stared at Thane much as the big man had at him a moment earlier. Then he shifted his feet and looked down at the floor. Thane watched and waited as the boy worked it out for himself. Finally Drakhar took a breath, looked back to Thane and, to both Thane's continuing amazement and great relief, nodded. "Alright," he said calmly, "how?"

Thane wasn't sure if he was relieved or worried by the boy's easy acceptance of the idea. For some in the Yaki, being clan leader was their only goal. For others it was a means to an end. And for some it was an unwanted burden they'd just as soon be free of. The boy was looking at him calmly and Thane wondered, again, if he was making a mistake. Then, again, he came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. There was only one play. So he sighed and simply said, "ye have to kill him."

The kid pursed his lips and thought it over. Then he looked at Thane again. "Won't that piss off the rest of the Yaki?"

"It might," Thane told him. "But..." he grinned, "...have you ever heard the saying, 'history is written by the victors'?"

********

Okay. So I met with Thane. And I sure am glad that I decided to check the target on this one. I'm not sure how well my ruse worked in terms of confusin' t'Chk, but I am sure that defyin' that son of a bitch... and not killin' Thane's family... just earned me quite a few points with Thane. I mean he didn't tell me so, but he was different with me afterward. I don't know how to explain it, only that now I feel like he's... hell, I don't know, invested in me somehow. I mean he wants me to become a clan leader and we do have a hundred million credit a day business arrangement so yeah! He's invested. Alright. But... this felt personal. Like he gave a shit.

Of course, on the other hand he came down on me like a ton of bricks for not treatin' t'Chk as a potential enemy from the get go... which I did... I just kinda... forgot... to keep it up. On the other hand he also told me to treat him the same way. Which can also be taken more than one way. Bloody hell! I don't know. I think he's on my side right now but I'll have to double check myself to make sure he's not preparin' to cook and eat me too.

Right. So, anyway, before leavin' Spires of Elusion I ordered Nedley and Gisler to take the Predator and jump over to Montalaar to carry out t'Chk's will... well, sort of. We destroyed the centaur's escort. There was really no way around that. Nothin' we said would have made 'em back off and any communication to Thane askin' him for help might have been intercepted. Not to mention that if t'Chk did have eyes on that centaur, which is likely, it would have looked suspicious. And yes, I've decided to just assume that t'Chk is monitorin' everything I do right now. Or at least tryin' to. So we shot down the fighters. Fortunately two of the four pilots managed to eject and we picked 'em up and stuck 'em in the brig until I can hand 'em over to Thane. And, with Master Guns Gisler in the lead, the boardin' op went just about as smoothly as it could. From what I understand there were no deaths and only a few injuries, all on the defensive side. All of which is typical of my modus operandi. I've captured enough of the ships t'Chk has sent me after for that not to raise any eyebrows. Or, at least, so I'm hopin'. With luck t'Chk currently thinks I just did what he tol' me to and has not a clue that what I really did was... well... not what he told me to. Err... if that makes any sense.

Then, instead of jumpin' the Predator down to meet Thane, I beamed myself, Kao t'Kt and four marines onto one of the Tartarus' passin' patrol susanowas, and from there onto the Necromancer. The Necromancer then jumped down to Senator's Badlands, where I then borrowed the Silver Wolf, Gin's HVP, from Chinomu, who's been makin' use of it since Gin was injured, thinkin' that if t'Chk is payin' attention this also wouldn't look out of the ordinary. Chinomu is regularly at the shipyard to purchase new gear for my fighters or to arrange for replacements when some of the planes get bent or... hell... just to give Thane presents. So the point is that, with luck, the Necromancer and Silver Wolf should have gone all but unnoticed. I mean we did use Thane's private dock, which has never happened before, but I think that was preferable to the five mizura hike through the shipyard where I would have been seen by anyone with the inclination to look... and Kao t'Kt kinda stands out. But, again, hopefully t'Chk has yet to become wise to the fact that I'm wise to him. Cos if he is... wise to me bein' wise to him... then this is gonna be an even bumpier ride than I'm expectin' and I'm already expectin' to need a five point safety harness.

Right, so once I got down there I told Thane what t'Chk ordered me to do and what we'd done instead, and that his kid and the kid's mother were safe and sound aboard the Predator, which is once again in Spires of Elusion in the hopes of keepin' t'Chk lookin' elsewhere instead of noticin' that I'm plottin' with Thane. Thane then confirmed for me what t'Chk's been plannin' this whole time. And, you know, I don't know what I find more disturbin', the fact that all of this shit is happenin', the fact that none of it really surprises me, or the fact that I can actually keep it all straight in my head.

Man! I tell yah!

Right! So Thane played a recordin' of the conversation that took place right before t'Chk decided to kill Thane's family with me. In it t'Chk actually called me a 'little piggy' that he's been fattenin' up for the slaughter. Thane also tells me that the entire time I've been a member of the Se'tjak clan t'Chk has been playin' me and gave me a list of every single job I did for t'Chk that hurt other Yaki. Every single job that I've ever done for t'Chk has been him usin' me to hurt a competitor or just sabotage me when it becomes revealed that I'm the one who pulled the trigger. The way it's lookin' t'Chk recruited me specifically to build weapons complexes in Yaki space that he could take away by throwin' me to the wolves. You know it never even occurred to me that he intended to take 'em from me? I never even imagined that that was a possibility. Presumably along with my life, but I imagine that's just a detail. 'Loose Ends' and all that.

Right, well, on the upside I've got Thane in my corner. Apparently savin' his life and the lives of.. heh!.. one of his wives and one of his children is a good way to get on the man's good side. And, well, right this second I'm kinda glad he is cos before this over there's a real good possibility that I'm gonna end up in a shootin' war with S'jar t'Chk AND a good number of the other clans. Thane says it's unlikely, that t'Chk's support is thinner than the guy thinks it is, and that I'm a lot more popular than I realize. At the same time Thane also says that havin' me kill that 'nid pal of Gorda's was a shot across the bow, which means that t'Chk is ready to fight and since the crazy bastard seems to be the kind of guy that gets all his ducks in a row before makin' a move, him sendin' that message... and then tryin' to get me to kill Thane's son... well, as Thane pointed out, those are bold moves. Which means t'Chk is feelin' very confident. So I don't know. Legion has a pretty good idea of which clans would be willin' to back t'Chk's play militarily, and I sent the list of possible enemy ships over to H'nt and Chinomu so they can brainstorm some attack plans in case we do end up in a fight, but right now the plan is a bit more subtle.

The goal is for me to kill t'Chk and take over as the new clan leader. In order for that to work, though, I'm gonna have to move very quickly, before t'Chk can call a meetin' of the Council, and get my hands on all of his logs and the records he's been keepin' and everythin' else he's got to frame me as an enemy of the Yaki. In other words... I've not only got to kill S'jar t'Chk and most of his officers... I've got to take the Brimstone. Oh, and ideally? Do all that without anybody gettin' wise to my coup d'état until after it's all over. Oh! And ahh... yeah, it's all gotta happen to-day.

Right. So... I've got to make some calls and wake some people up.

********

Dal heard something electronic and unwelcome. It was a thin, high pitched chirp that slashed through the haze of sleep and began dragging him toward wakefullness. In that first instant all he was aware of was that he was so tired that his bones were sore. He'd just started to groan... when a soft warmth moved in his arms.

In that instant he remembered. He'd just finished the repairs on lift one, ending his third shift on the hangar deck, and had been so tired that he'd literally collapsed into his chair in the tiny little shoebox he used as an office. It was just a chair, in this case a dirty, grease and metal-dust stained thing that was less than two mazura (4 months) old and already looked as if it had seen decades of wear and tear. In that instant, though, it was heaven. He'd literally gasped with the relief of no longer being on his feet... and that's when he'd heard her.

"I love that feeling." Her voice from nearby, soothing something within him. When Dal opened his eyes she was standing in the open hatchway between his office and the machine shop behind her, wearing her most obnoxious grin while bearing a hundred and twenty credit bottle of whiskey.

"That's not a beer," he'd said with a smile.

"Yeah!" Her eyes went wide. "I know! But the bartender got a little testy when I tried to untap one of his kegs." She shrugged and bared her teeth in one of her classic 'Seldon-faces'. "So you'll just have to settle."

He'd laughed almost despite himself. A few moments later he'd found a pair of packing containers for the susanowa's plasma overflow regulators, which were little plastic-ceramic cylinders that made great containers for all sorts of things from nuts, bolts, and screws to whiskey. Then he'd let her get him drunk on some of the best scotch he'd ever had. And the entire time his eyes wandered over her, taking in all the curves and swells of her; from her ankles to her calves to her knees; out at her thighs and then in toward the pretty little triangle where they met; out at her hips; in again at her waist, then out towards her shoulders and over the swells of her breasts. At some point he realized that she was watching him admire her, and liked it.

"It's good to see you," he'd told her warmly.

She smiled back at him just as warmly, and with some amusement. "It's good to be seen," she said mischieviously.

Then, after another drink, he finally got around to asking. "So what's up?"

"What do you mean, 'what's up'?! I owed you a drink!" she told him, still playful and still evasive.

Dal leaned forward and collected the bottle off his desk. "Last time I checked this stuff goes for over a hundred credits a bottle."

"A hundred and fifty," she said flippantly.

"A hundred and fifty!?" he'd laughed, flabbergasted.

"Well," she shrugged, "that's full price. I get a discount."

He sighed and shook his head. "Of course you do," he said. "Still," he held up the bottle, "this isn't a one cred pint of suds. So? Is there a reason for such generosity?"

"Talk about lookin' a gift horse in the mouth!" She pretended to be offended. Then smiled at him. "Maybe I just wanted to get you drunk so I can take advantage of ya..." She said with a devilish grin.

"Hon," Dal chuckled, "you don't need to get me drunk to get me into bed. I promise."

"Oh yeah?" she'd sat in his lap then, and put her arms around his neck. "Good to know..." That's when it happened. The smile fell off her face. The armor vanished from her eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"I've got to tell you something..."

"Uh oh." He had his hands on her waist and could smell her through the deoderant and soaps she used. He was already rising to the heat of her presence. His heart was beating faster and he wanted to taste her skin.

But she pulled back and looked at him with what he thought was despair in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should have said this before... hell! I should have said this weeks ago."

He just waited.

"You want this," she gestured to the two of them, "to be," she shrugged, "something else. You might even think of it as 'something more', but... for me... that's not what it is. It's not more. It's... oh hell!"

She was about to stand up and walk away. He held on to her and tried to make her look at him. "Hey," he said, then shrugged, "it's okay."

"You don't even know what I'm about to say."

He sighed heavily. The moment had cooled dramatically but he still liked her close to him. "I do," he said. "The gist, anyway."

"Really?" she said, obviously not believing him.

"You're not ready to be with just one person. You might never be. And when I suggested bunking together you panicked."

She stared at him for a moment without saying a word. She looked very much disarmed. "Okay," she said, "maybe you do know what I'm gonna say."

"Look," he said enjoying the weight of her in his lap, and the warm solidity of her waist in his hands, "I'm not going to tell you that I don't want... more," he shrugged at the use of the word, "but..." he shrugged. He was very tired, already very distracted, and his brain was fighting him. "...I don't want you to feel obligated or trapped, and if that's how you feel then this isn't..." He shrugged. "I want you to spend time with me because that's what you want to do."

Continued...

[Scion Drakhar]

...continued.

"Huh!" she grunted, and it sounded like 'Well I'll be damned...'

He smiled at her.

"Soooo..." she said. "If I wanted to see you and other people... you'd be okay with that?"

"No," he said, smiling, "but I'd prefer that to the alternative."

"Which is?"

"You seeing other people and NOT seeing me."

"Huh!" she grunted again, looking at him as if she'd never seen him before.

He smiled uncomfortably and waited.

"You know," she said apologetically, "I've tried it. The whole moving in together thing? Being with just one person? The... I don't know... the agreement to behave a certain way, and pretend that I'm not attracted to other people? To only want the person I'm with?" She winced. "I can't do it, Dal."

"I know," he said but she didn't seem to hear him.

"I've tried! I really have!" She was suddenly shaking and Dal couldn't tell if it was anger or pain or both. "I end up going crazy, Dal! Every time! And I mean really crazy. The kind of crazy that gets people hurt or... killed." She was smiling but tears spilled over her cheeks. "I always end up doing something to screw everything up. That's what me standing you up was all about. I..."

He smiled. "I know," he said sadly. "I knew it as soon as the words were out of my mouth." Dal had dropped his eyes. For some reason he couldn't look at her. There was a pain inside him that felt like fear and doubt and the same crazy insecurity that always squirmed and screamed whenever he was with a woman who... wanted more than him. It was the whisper in his mind telling him that he wasn't enough, that he wasn't strong enough, or satisfying enough, or stoic enough, or... hell, he didn't know.

"You hate me," she said, and her voice was tragedy itself.

"No," he said and met her eyes. "No I do not. Not one bit. Not at all."

"Really?"

He smiled at her. It was thin and brittle, but he meant it. "Really," he said. "I'd rather know the truth than be coddled with a lie... cos sooner or later the truth always shows up anyway." Then he shrugged. "Hell, Seldon, I like you. No matter what happens I still want to be able to smile and have a drink with you from time to time. Sometimes I think you're the only person in this whole damn fleet that's even really..." he shrugged, "...seen me."

"What?" she asked, still blinking tears out of her eyes. "You mean like, naked?" she asked mischievously.

He felt the terror within him crash against the moment. All of his fears were throwing situations at him, possibilities that might happen in the future, tragedies that hadn't happened but would hurt so bad if they did. 'Right here!' he screamed at himself. 'Stay right here, dumbass!' "Yeah," he said with a smile. "That's exactly what I mean."

She laughed, and was still smiling, but she also started to shake and more tears spilled over her cheeks. Then she leaned against him and put her head down on his shoulder. So he'd gently wrapped his arms around her, and savored the warmth and weight of her, not knowing if he'd ever get another chance to do so. 'I love you, Tasha,' the thought was just a whisper in his mind, but that whisper instantly quieted all the screaming fears around it, and even though he'd only thought the words she relaxed in his arms, and sighed contentedly against him. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the smell of her hair. Then she lifted her face to his and looked him in the eye. A moment later she kissed him. It was quiet and soft but quickly grew into something hot and fierce and desperate. And now he was holding her in his bed, knowing she was about to leave.

********

Seldon woke to the sound of her communicator chirping. She was already reaching for it when she realized that she was warm and satisfied, with the nice, thick weight of Dal Cornell's arms wrapped around her, and the meaty press of his muscles against her back. "Mmmm..." she groaned, blearily remembering the events... she picked up her comm unit and glanced at the time through one, half-opened eye... less than a stazura earlier! "Unnnn!" She groaned angrily.

Behind her, Dal sighed contentedly and squeezed her naked back into him. The comm unit chirped again and the display informed her that the call was secure, encrypted, and URGENT... which meant Drake. She thumbed the part of the screen that let her answer and held the thing to her ear. "Somebody better be dead," she growled at him.

"I need you in the Necromancer's CIC ASAP," the kid informed her.

"You do know that normal people sleep, right?" she demanded scathingly.

"Tell you what," the kid told her, "we live through today and I'll give you a wozura down on that Boron paradise in Spires of Elusion."

Seldon blinked. There were two parts to that statement and although she liked the second bit it was the first that got her attention. "Wot?"

"Get up, Seldon," the kid told her. "I need you." With that he cut the channel. She held her communicator at arm's length for a moment, glaring at it and seriously considering chucking the damn thing across the room.

"No," Dal mumbled into her neck. "You are not leaving."

"Oh! I really don't want to," she both growled and whined together, then rolled over to kiss him on the mouth. It was a dry kiss, though, and without passion. She wanted to reassure him, not rile him up. He groaned, trying not to complain and failing. "I know. I know!" she answered him, with one hand on the stubble of his cheek. "But..."

"...the world is ending," he finished for her, sounding as if he'd just acknowledged that there would be hotdogs without any condiments instead of prime rib for dinner, "and you have to save us all."

She chuckled. "Maybe," she said. "Apparently there's a good chance we're all gonna die today."

"Well," he groaned. "Wake me up if we do."

********

"Nah," she told him, "better I let you sleep through it."

"Probably true," he said, already slipping back into sleep. Then she kissed him again and he felt the farewell in it. He sighed and opened his eyes. She was in his arms, in his bed, and looking at him warmly. "Hmmm..." he smiled, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction, and a little bit of pride, at the look on her face. "Hi there..." he whispered.

"Hey," she said, smiling back at him. It was a real smile, too, not simply the shield she used to ward the world away.

"Last night was nice," he told her.

"Yeah, it was," she grinned her most obnoxious grin at him and snuggled closer. He instantly squeezed her, prompting a contented, feminine squeak that she would forever deny making. For an instant he felt her relaxing, slipping back into sleep with him. Then she jerked and rolled away from him.

"Ohhh!" she wailed, pulling them both back from the dark. An instant later she was out from under the covers and pouting at him. He groaned, already feeling the cool air on his skin where she'd been just a moment earlier. "I'm sorry," she said. "I have to go..."

"I know," he said, watching her try to find her clothes in the dark. He reached out and turned on the reading lamp beside his bunk. She blinked and looked at him gratefully. "But right now," he told her, "I really hate that kid."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she agreed while struggling with a claspless, form-fitting bra. "Right now I really do, too." He watched as she got dressed, half wondering at why women's clothing was so awkward for them to get in to and out of. "On the other hand," she said while shifting her hips back and forth to get her pants up. Just as she got them situated she shot him a mischievous look, "he just told me that," she snorted, "'if we live through today'," she rolled her eyes, "he'd give me a week off down on that Boron planet in Spires of Elusion."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, already imagining all the opportunities she'd have to see other people in a place like that.

"Yeah," she said, snatching her shirt up off the floor and giving the wrinkles a dubious look before shrugging and throwing it around her shoulders. As she started doing up the buttons she glanced at him. "Want to come with me?" she asked him with a grin.

Before his brain caught up the words were out of his mouth. "Hell yeah!" he said, suddenly sounding twenty jazuras younger.

"Good," she laughed at his tone before adopting a determined expression. "Then I'll kick Drake's ass and make sure he let's you off too. Cos I think we've both earned a vacation."

"Couldn't agree more," he told her as she straightened her gig line and sorted out her decorations. Then she looked at him.

"You got a brush?" she asked him.

Dal arched an eyebrow. His hair was steel grey and usually buzzed into a flat-top no more than a couple of centimeters at it's longest. Most of it was cut so close to his head that anyone looking could see the tiny, crescent shaped birthmark above his left ear. Which meant to 'do his hair' he got out of the shower and rubbed a hand over his head. Then he got dressed and went to work.

"Err.. right," she said. After a moment she shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair, then tossed her head a couple of times. Then she gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. She looked like she'd spent the night in bed with him and was wearing the same clothes as the day before and couldn't find a comb. "Crap," she said upon seeing his expression. "Well, he wants me up there right bloody now... at zero four hundred in the frakking morning! So frak him."

Dal chuckled to cover the internal wince he felt as that particular expression conjured images he'd rather not endure. 'Damn,' he thought. 'I am in so much trouble.'

"Okay," she said and looked at him. A moment later she leaned over the bed to kiss him again. "Thanks for a great night, Chief," she growled at him, managing to imitate his tones fairly well.

"Right back atcha, Chief," he chuckled at her.

Just then her eyes softened for an instant, and he saw the worry in them. "Go on," he said. "Git. Save us all from... whatever."

She smiled at him and headed for the hatch. Just before stepping through it she glanced back and smiled at him. Despite being exhausted and irritated he thought she looked happy. Then she was gone. The hatch closed, leaving him alone in an empty bed with only his doubts and insecurities for company.

"Frak me," he whispered, still smelling her on his sheets.

********

Eri was in a bad mood. She'd been awoken nearly an hour beforehand by a call from Drakhar himself. Before she was even fully conscious the man had given her instructions to look over a list of enemy forces in an attached file, and come up with a worst case scenario should they have to face that fleet... today. She was then ordered to report to the Necromancer's CIC ASAP. A moment later the line was dead, leaving her stunned and semi-awake in bed at just after zero four hundred, staring at her comm unit until she was conscious enough to realize that she needed to pee. It wasn't until after she'd relieved her bladder and splashed some cold water on her face that it finally occurred to her to have an emotional reaction.

"What the frak?" she growled.

A few moments later she used the terminal in her quarters to open the file the man sent over. It was a list of expected enemy forces:

- 3-4 Shuri carriers with 30-40 assorted fighters each
- 1 Akuma destroyer
- 2 Senshi missile frigates, unknown armament
- 6 Akurei attack frigates
- 3 Kariudo fighter support frigate with 12-15 fighters each
- 17 Washi corvettes

"Yaki?!" she exclaimed. "Why the hell are we getting ready to face Yaki?" She demanded of her absent employer. An instant later she took in the size of the fleet she was expected to prepare for. Then she shook her head and scoffed in disgust. "What the hell have you gotten us into, man?!" How the hell was she supposed to prepare for that?! Were those senshi's stocked with nukes? Fighter-killers? Both? Were those carriers carrying bombers? She didn't even know where this supposed confrontation was going to take place! She tried calling him back but his calls were routed to the Predator's bridge, where his communications officer simply informed her that Drakhar was awaiting her on the Necromancer's CIC.

"Frak me," she said as she cut comms. After a moment of huffing angrily into the dark, she stood and began to dress. Which is when she started to wonder who it was they were about to go up against. What clan could boast that kind of armament? She'd been keeping track of the other "fleets" in the clans. Most of the time calling the ships a given clan could muster a 'fleet' was an act of extreme generosity. About half of the clans had little more than a single TL with a fighter raiding party of about a dozen ships, about half of which were nothing more than cheap M5's like the fujin or a salvaged disco or jaguar. So who the hell was bringing three carriers and a destroyer to the party? Let alone nearly a dozen frigates? The only person she knew of that she even suspected of being able to muster that many ships was the Yaki dockmaster and, despite her general misgivings about the man, she found it all but impossible to believe he was that stupid.

So what the hell just happened?

A half an hour and one very strong cup of black coffee later, she stepped onto the Necromancer's command deck. The first thing she noticed were the marines. There were a lot of them and they were all in full battle dress; black combat armor with closed helmets and reflective faceplates, sidearms and grenades at their waists, and with their rifles held across their midsections on slings, ready to be raised and fired at a moment's notice.

'Curiouser and curiouser,' she thought darkly.

A moment later she made her way to the Necromancer's CIC, which occupied a space behind and to starboard of the bridge. As she approached she saw two marines guarding the hatch to the compartment. Both turned to face her. With their armor and blacked-out face-shields it was impossible to see their expressions, read emotion in their eyes, or even get a sense of their body language. All of which meant their attention was rather intimidating. As they looked at her she felt the hair at the back of her neck stand up. It occurred to her then that they'd just scanned her vitals, cross referenced her data with the ship's computer, and possibly even shared a word about her between themselves via their helmet-to-helmet mic's.

A moment later they looked away, allowing her to approach unmolested. As she did she realized that she'd been holding her breath. Being confronted by men with guns and the authority to use them never failed to be intimidating, and the sheer, visceral terror that tickled the base of her brain suddenly made it all real. Something was happening and, whatever it was, it was bloody scary. For a moment she marveled at the heightened security and wondered if it was because of the assassin supposedly lurking about in the fleet, but it wasn't the assassin that had her summoned to the command deck at five in the morning to make plans for facing the entire Yaki armada. So what the hell had happened?

She wasn't able to pursue the question, however. A moment later the hatch opened before her, prompting her to step between the black armored sentinels into the dimly lit space beyond. The CIC was a dark, roughly circular compartment fifteen meters in diameter. It was divided into four levels like an old fashioned surgical theater with the the main 'stage' at the center and circular tiers rising one above the last toward the compartment's circumference. In the very center of the space there was a holographic display, like a table, that could be used to show a three dimensional projection of either the ship's current sector or an expected battlefield, allowing the command staff to visually see the area of operation in order to plan a mission. Hanging from the lid above the rising tiers were hundreds of monitors that could be used to display just about anything. Surrounding that central console there were several dozen workstations on the tiers, all facing outward so that those in command could easily monitor their subordinates. Those stations could be configured for just about any job that needed doing, from listening to specific frequencies to tracking wings of fighters, to coordinating with other ships.

As Eri stepped through the hatch she found herself momentarily stunned. The CIC had only rarely been used before and then only because Eri herself had insisted to H'nt that the compartment really did have a purpose and that purpose was to plan, command, and coordinate fleet actions. So originally she'd used it to plan fighter strikes for one mercenary operation or another, whether it was defending a station from extortionist pirates, or defending a sector from some rampaging xenon, or just to hit a trade convoy. Whatever the job was this was the space she'd used to command her fighters. At least it was until it became a hassle to make her way up to the command deck every single time her pilots deployed... which was regularly. At which point she'd simply started squeezing into the top of the flight control tower with Boss Kayean and her staff. Now, though, the CIC was both occupied and lit up like Times Square on New Year's Eve.

At the center of the compartment Drakhar was leaning over that holographic console with a determined expression. H'nt was standing beside him, along with a dark skinned marine that Eri had never seen before. The compartment itself was dim, and the table projected a cold, ghostly light upwards. That light lit the faces of the men standing around it strangely. The the lower curves of their jaws, noses, cheeks and eyebrows were lit while the rest of their faces were cast in shadow. A moment later she noticed Master Chief Warrant Officer Kao t'Kt standing opposite her, in the shadows near the far bulkhead where he could watch... and shoot... everyone in the compartment. He was watching her calmly from above the rifle slung across his chest.

She felt her jaw flex and had to resist the urge to grind her teeth. She stepped down the ramp toward Drakhar, the holo-table, and the center of the compartment. The console in front of Drakhar was currently showing a holographic projection of the Alpha Complex in Weaver's Tempest, with a handful of warships positioned in a defensive formation in front of it. Even from five meters away she knew she was looking at every frigate in the fleet. The Necromancer, the Predator, the Osan'gar, the Sword of Vengeance, the Sword of Aggrievance, and the two new panthers were all displayed as tiny, bright-green representations of themselves and, as she walked closer, she saw that they were arranged for different tasks. The Osan'gar and both of the panthers were set approximately thirty kilometers in front of the complex, while the Necromancer hung back near the missile frigates, presumably to defend the fleet's primary offensive capability from anything that might get through the forward ships to harass them. Toward the center of the sector, however, she saw the Predator, nose to nose with a vast fleet of Yaki warships. That fleet was spread across the middle of the sector in three separate but overlapping battle groups, each forward and flanking one of the carriers. Seeing the enemy fleet laid out before her reminded her of her earlier aggravation. If shots actually were fired then Drakhar and, by consequence, Eri herself, were grossly outnumbered.

"No," Drakhar was saying, "we can't do that. Nothin' can happen until we spring the trap. We can't give that asshole a single frakkin' reason to think it's anythin' but business as usual until we take his bloody head off."

H'nt frowned, apparently not liking the plan. "Split say: will take much time to reposition! Time a window of opportunity for the enemy!"

"I know!" Drakhar growled, then he met the Split's eye. "I know," he said more softly. "But we need him to think he's won, H'nt. If anythin' tips our hand before then, if he even suspects what we're up to," he shrugged and shook his head while turning back to the holographic display, "then anyone aboard that ship is probably dead." He looked back and met H'nt's eye. "But the instant! The frakkin' instant that I give the signal... every ship needs to be jumpin' to their new locations."

H'nt nodded but Eri could see that he didn't like his orders. As Eri stepped up she realized that Ch't F'rst, Captain of the Sword of Vengeance, F'ght F'rm R'ng, Captain of the Sword of Aggrievance, and even Lucifer were all looking down at the CIC from overhead monitors. The two Split seemed to be in their staterooms, aboard their own ships. Lucifer, meanwhile, was looking down at what she assumed was a handheld communicator while reclining in his hospital bed. She winced inwardly at the sight of him. He'd always been lean, but it was a healthy lean. He'd been wiry and hard and muscular, with healthy skin, lively, mischievous eyes, and an easy smile. Now he looked emaciated and frail. His skin, always so taut over the muscles beneath it, now seemed sallow and just a little bit loose. The sight of him was almost physically painful. He saw her looking, though, and winked.

A moment later Drakhar turned toward her. "Chinomu," he said, cutting straight to business. "The XO of the Silver Wolf," he asked, "in your opinion is he ready for combat?"

"Against what?" she demanded. "Some rag-tag band of pirate fighters? Sure, provided he can string them out or strike from range." She glanced at the massive fleet flickering above the central console. "But against that?!" Drakhar glanced at the display. She saw his jaw flex. Then she looked at the fleet arrayed against them. "Is that the Brimstone?!" she demanded. Drakhar and H'nt turned toward her. "You mind catching me up, here? What the hell is going on?!"

"S'jar t'Chk has betrayed us," H'nt informed her.

"Oh," she felt as if she'd just been gut-punched, "fantastic."

"Tell me about it," Drakhar agreed sourly.

"But... why?!" she asked.

The man looked at her, then glanced at the overheads, where the others seemed to be waiting for the same answer. "Where's Ea't?" he asked Commandant Féret.

"He should be on his way by now," Lucifer told him. "Good call sending the marines, though. He was," Lucifer chuckled, "'less than agreeable' when the Doc woke him up."

Drakhar rolled his eyes. Then he glanced at Eri. "We're still waiting on Ea't and Seldon. I'll bring everyone up to speed at the same time."

"Fair enough," Eri nodded. "But... that's a lot of ships, man! S'jar t'Chk only has the Brimstone and three frigates. So where are the rest of those ships coming from? And if we're going head to head with the Se'tjak clan how long do we have before the rest of the Yaki start shooting at us?"

Drakhar chuckled. "You just answered your own question."

Her eyes grew wider. "How the hell are we at war with all of the Yaki?!"

He held up a hand. "Tone it down a notch, Chinomu," he said, sounding like an adult talking to a child. In that instant she thought she could have throttled him. She felt the frustration swell so much inside her that her head actually got hot. Drakhar saw her expression and held up both hands in a calming gesture. "It's NOT the entire armada, okay? It's six or seven clans at most and..."

Just then the hatch opened behind her and a Split shaped thunderstorm swept into the compartment. Commander Ea't s'Quid strode toward Drakhar. His top knot, normally perfectly composed and hanging down his back, was now disheveled with many individual hairs sticking straight out from his head like the electricity in a Tesla sphere. He also seemed to be walking funny, as if one leg refused to bend. He glared at anyone willing to meet his eyes, including Eri. She calmly arched an eyebrow as he swept past her to confront the man in charge, swelling as if he might burst. He stopped directly in front of Drakhar and, for a moment, Commander s'Quid stood, swollen, furious, and quivering with rage. He glared at the smaller man with such intensity that Eri found herself expecting imminent violence. For an instant she wondered if she should duck and reflexively glanced at Kao t'Kt to get a read on his take of the situation. She expected him to already be drawing a bead on Commander Ea't s'Quid's head, ready to end the Split with a twitch of the finger should the commander threaten his lord. Oddly enough the enormous Split was, if not relaxed, not overly disturbed by the enraged commander, and was simply continuing to survey the compartment, and Drakhar simply held the mad Split's eye and sighed dramatically.

"What?!" he asked, shrugging with dramatic exasperation. "You had it comin'."

Ea't actually trembled with suppressed rage. "MIGHTY SPLIT WARRIOR WAKES TO NEEDLE IN NECK!" Commander s'Quid roared with indignation. He was so loud that all of the humans in the compartment winced. Then his eyes narrowed. "So mighty Split warrior becomes ANGRY!"

"Did they taze you, bud?" Drakhar asked calmly.

Commander Ea't's expression darkened even further, but Eri would be damned if he didn't look sullen as well. "Yes!" the commander barked. "Split was shot with TAZER rounds!"

Drakhar looked him up and down. Then he met Commander s'Quid's eye again. "They get you in the ass?" he asked. "It looks like they got you in the ass."

Ea't took a deep, terrifying breath and seemed to swell even larger than his body. The glare of his blazing green eyes seemed to have more energy than a HEPT discharge. "Doctor must learn FEAR mighty Split warrior!" he bellowed

"Doctor must do no such thing!" Drakhar barked, then shook a finger at the Split. "You leave it be, Ea't, and let that man to do his job!"

Ea't exhaled like a bellows that someone just jumped on. He was actually trembling. Eri was sure the thunderhead was about to break and rain the wrath of God or, in this case, the wrath of one 'mighty Split warrior', down on top of Drakhar's head. But the kid simply held the Split's eye and spread his hands.

"Don't you want to know why we're here, Ea't?" he asked.

Ea't blinked, then looked around the compartment. Eri saw him notice his brother, the marines, then the faces in the overhead. Lucifer waved at him. Captains F'ght F'rm R'ng and Ch't F'rst simply glared back at him with the same inscrutable fury they always possessed. Finally Commander s'Quid turned back to Drakhar. "Why here?!"

Drakhar looked up and swept the room with his eyes. "Anyone got a twenty on Seldon?" he asked.

"Yeah," the woman in question said from just inside the hatch from the corridor. Eri decided that she must have entered right behind Commander s'Quid. "She's tired, cranky, and half past hungover," Seldon snarled. "What the hell is this about anyway?" Eri noted the woman's unkempt hair and the wrinkles in her uniform. That, along with the ever-so-slight glow in her cheeks, despite being awoken in the middle of the night, told Eri that Seldon and Dal had made up, at least for the moment.

'Good for you, Tasha,' she thought.

"Close the hatch and lock down the room," Drakhar ordered. Then, to H'nt, "and we should engage the SCIF protocols as well," his lip curled, "considerin' there's a Terran assassin in the fleet." It was obvious that he considered the very idea an annoyance.

Eri glanced at Seldon as the woman stepped up beside her. The marine looked weary and put-upon as she returned Eri's glance. "'Sup?" Seldon asked, then flipped the spout on the thermos in her hand. Eri caught the scent of strong, dark coffee.

"We are," Eri replied and Seldon immediately snorted a chuckle.

"True enough," the other woman replied, amused. It never took much to get Seldon laughing.

"ALRIGHT," Drakhar raised his voice just enough to summon everyone's attention, "now that we're all here..."

"You'll let us know why we're not asleep?" Seldon interjected snarkily.

Drakhar glanced at her. "...I'll tell everyone what's going on," he concluded darkly. Still looking Seldon in the eye he said, "S'jar t'Chk has betrayed us."

"Oooh," Seldon replied, utterly deadpan, "shocker."

"Good!" Ea't bellowed loud enough for everyone to glance his way. Eri noted that F'ght F'rm R'ng was now looking at him with the same flat expression that H'nt was wearing when Thane's 'vicious little curs' tried to fleece them the day she'd first met the dockmaster. "Have recipe! Saved for S'jar t'Chk!" Ea't was grinning that horrible Split grimace. "Him on menu for many jazura!"

"Don't you mean 'on order'?" Eri asked without looking in Commander s'Quid's direction.

"WHAT?!" Ea't s'Quid rounded on her, glaring with the same intensity she expected inside a nuclear reactor.

She calmly met his eye. "If he was 'on the menu'," she explained, "that means he'd be ready to serve, right? But he's not. He's on the Brimstone. So, since you're the one putting the menu together, and wanting him on it, it means that you haven't actually been able to put him on the menu yet. Instead the meat has been 'on order', or 'on your wish list'. Not 'on the menu'."

Commander s'Quid seemed to swell with indignation with every word. Behind him Eri saw Drakhar sigh wearily and cover his eyes. Eri simply looked calmly back at the Split and arched an eyebrow. It was then that Lucifer started laughing.

"Still clouding the issue with facts, eh Chinomu?" Lucifer asked. Commander s'Quid turned and looked at the monitor overhead. "Don't let her get to you, bud. She does that to everyone."

"Not everyone," Chinomu muttered, glancing at her old teacher. 'Or at least I didn't used to,' she thought. Lucifer just chuckled.

"RIGHT!" Drakhar barked, calling attention back to himself. "So ANYway!" He glared at Ea't and Eri in turn. "May I continue?"

Eri waved him on. Ea't simply glared.

"Bloody hell," Drakhar muttered. "It's like herdin' cats." He shook his head and then looked up with a brittle smile. "As you are all aware," he said, straining to remain civil, "S'jar t'Chk recruited me about two mazura (4 months) ago and encouraged me to build in Yaki space, correctly figurin' that I'd prioritize the construction of weapon and fleet support factories. Well, now that I've built three complexes, he means to try and take 'em from me. Turns out every single job he's ever given me was a set up. Every. Single. One." He looked up at Lucifer. "What was that expression you used?"

Lucifer blinked. "Which one?" he asked, confused... which made Eri frown. The Commandant had always been razor sharp, with a mind like a steel trap. Seeing him even mildly befuddled was just as painful as the sight of that sagging flesh.

Drakhar snorted and shook his head. "Never mind," he growled. Then he looked around the room at everyone watching him. "That son of a bitch has had me doin' some nasty shit," he snarled. "Specifically, he's ordered me to disrupt and destroy the interests of other clan leaders. I'm guessin' that he's been fieldin' their calls for some time, keepin' them ignorant of his actions while keepin' me in the dark and playin' me for a damned fool."

'Which you let him do,' Eri thought.

"From the beginnin'," Drakhar continued, "he's given me lots of leeway. He very rarely commanded me to do anythin' and when we spoke he was," the man shrugged, "if not polite, at the least he was respectful. Recently that changed. About a week ago he turned into a complete asshole. He's become abusive and demandin'. At first I thought it was because I didn't cut him in when I set up the nividium trade with Thane. But I had a chat with Thane earlier tonight and the dockmaster was kind enough to explain what the son of a bitch is really up to. Right now we're expectin' t'Chk to call a meetin' of the council very soon. When he does he'll present 'evidence' of my 'crimes against the Yaki', showin' a pattern of disruptive and damagin'... yada yada yada. The point is he's gonna get me kicked out of the clans, which basically means my life and property are forfeit. As both my clan leader and accuser t'Chk will get to seize all'a my assets; ships, complexes... and anythin' else he can get his grubby lil' mitts on." Drakhar's expression darkened. "Includin' you and your crews."

"Say what?!" Seldon barked.

"Thane says he'll probably try to enslave my people," Drakhar explained.

"Frak that!" Seldon said.

Ea't snorted violently, then nodded. "Clever," he said.

Drakhar turned toward the Split. "Aye," he growled, low and deadly. "Very clever."

Eri simply wondered, 'and why are we doing business with these people?'

"So what are we going to do about it?" Seldon demanded.

Drakhar smiled at her. "Glad you could join us, Seldon."

"Frak you, kid." She shook a finger at him. "When this is over I am taking that week in paradise and I'm bringing Cornell with me." Drakhar arched an eyebrow and looked her over, drawing attention to her disheveled appearance. When he looked back up he was smirking. Seldon scowled at him. "Don't make me hurt you, boy."

"So what are we going to do about it?" Eri prodded.

"Well, right now, we're gettin' ready," Drakhar informed her.

"To do what?" Eri asked.

Drakhar turned to look her in the eye. The light from the table cast strange and ominous shadows across his face. From the center of those shadows his eyes seemed to glow with the reflection of that light. "To kill that crazy son of a bitch," he said.

Eri scowled, then pointed at the fleet in the holoprojector. "That," she stated, "looks like you're about to kill a whole lot more people than just S'jar t'Chk," she said scathingly. "Most of whom will likely be on our side."

"HA!" Ea't s'Quid bellowed, then waved a dismissive hand at the holoprojector. "We shall crush S'jar t'Chk! It matters not how many ships he brings! It will be a GREAT BATTLE!"

Drakhar nodded, then met Chinomu's eye. "T'Chk and his friends may have a lot of ships, but we have nukes." He smiled bitterly. "We have a LOT of nukes."

"Nukes?" she scoffed. "Really? Cos we only have the two boomers and how many of my pilots do you think it will it cost to keep them safe?"

Drakhar sighed heavily. Then he met her eye, and his face was hard. "Too many," he said.

Eri was about to open her mouth again when Seldon beat her to it. "How the hell did he get all those ships in the first place?" the marine demanded. "Is that projection accurate? I thought all he had was the Brimstone and a couple of frigates."

Drakhar nodded. "He does," he said.

"You see the combined might of seven clans," H'nt told Seldon. "S'jar t'Chk has convinced Clan Leaders Abmanckusset, Rudilis Yayasisos Gutosos the ninth who speaks for the remaining Teladi clans, Nicodemus, Metricus Brano, and Wen Digo all to stand with him."

"Aye," Drakhar snarled, "likely by promisin' 'em my nukes!"

"In other words," Lucifer interjected, "this Sijar Chick fellow doesn't have the resources to take you on without help."

Drakhar looked up at the older man and nodded. "That's right," he said.

"Any chance we can break up his alliance?" Lucifer asked him.

"The hope," Drakhar answere him, "is that, if it comes down to a shootin' war, the other clans will bail on him once the nukes start flyin'. It's not a gaurantee but we've got two missile boats and lots of hammer-heavies and tomahawks. I also put in an order with the OTAS shipyard for two more bombers earlier this mornin', one for each Panther. That gives us three to work with. Which means if that fleet wants to frak with us," he gestured at the projector, "they'll be flyin' into a helluva lot of hurt. I'm guessin' that once we start breakin' their ships open the other clan leaders'll decide in a hurry that S'jar t'Chk's promises aren't worth dyin' for."

"'If' if becomes a shooting war?" Eri asked and the room looked her way. "So it's not a foregone conclusion?"

"No," Drakhar shook his head. Then he looked around the room. "We're hopin'... well... I'm hopin' to be able to end this mess before it even gets started."

"How the hell are you gonna do that?" Seldon asked.

Drakhar met her eye, then he smiled gently. "Well," he said, "I was kinda hopin' you might be willin' to help with that."

"Me?" she blinked.

He nodded. "Aye," he said, then looked around again. "Right now the hope is that t'Chk doesn't even know we're onto him." He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Or that, even if he suspects, I'll be able to trick him into thinkin' I'm stupid." Both Seldon and Eri snorted pointedly. He cast a bitter glance their way, 'thanks for the vote of confidence,' it said. Then he shook his head and continued. "Earlier tonight t'Chk ordered me to destroy a ship carryin'... err... one of Thane's wives and their son."

"Holy shit," Eri swore softly while Seldon said, "Frak me!" right beside her.

"As far as t'Chk knows I did just that," Drakhar said and Eri noticed the expression on the marine beside him. The marine was an impeccably groomed, dark-skinned argon with tight, curly hair that he wore in a close-cropped flat-top. He was old enough to have some grey at the temples and more than a few laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. Just then the fellow looked very pleased with himself and, as she watched, took a smiling puff on a cigarillo.

"'As far as he knows'?" Seldon echoed.

Drakhar met her eye with a steely expression. "Aye," he said. "'As far as he knows'." He looked at the faces around him. "After he gave me the kill order I had the Predator jump to Montalaar and destroy that ship's escort. Then we boarded that centaur." He glanced at Lucifer. "This is what I usually do with the bounties he gives me. The sale of those ships boosts my profit. So," he swept the room and shrugged, "none of it should have raised any suspicions. But," he said pointedly and put a hand on the shoulder of the marine beside him, "instead of killin' everyone on board, Master Gunnery Sergeant Gisler here took prisoners, all of whom are now safely aboard the Predator."

"Ayup," the Master Gunnery Sergeant said with a broad, toothy smile. Then he glanced at his employer. "Only two casualties on that op... and neither belonged to us."

"Yeah-yeah," Seldon said, trying to take the wind out of the other marine's sails. The Master Guns winked at her.

"So Thane's family is safe?" Eri asked.

Drakhar met her eye and nodded. "Aye," he said, "they're safe. And Thane's on-board with what we're about to do. Turns out t'Chk's little prank was in response to a call from the dockmaster. Thane figured out what t'Chk has been doin' and called the son of a bitch to ask him about it. From what I can tell t'Chk is stressed out. He's makin' big moves and, if I had to guess, I'd say he's unravellin' a bit."

"Why do you say that?" Seldon asked.

Drakhar put his hands on his waist and nodded. Then he met Seldon's eye. "Cos Thane recorded their chat and played it back for me. Durin' the call t'Chk lost it. He said some things I'm guessin' he wishes he hadn't. I won't pretend to understand that psycho's thinkin' any but if I had to I'd bet that t'Chk thought about that call afterward and decided Thane had played him. Then he took it personally."

"And ordered you to kill the man's wife and son because of it?!" Lucifer asked from overhead. Eri glanced up and saw the moral outrage in her old teacher's eyes.

"Aye," Drakhar told him.

"Overkill much?" Seldon interjected.

Drakhar shrugged. It was slight but dismissive, and Eri suddenly found herself wondering what he did think of S'jar t'Chk's retaliation. Was murdering a rival's family acceptable to him? Or did he just not have the time or inclination to think about it?

"It's extreme," Lucifer said, "and vile."

"What it tells me," Drakhar said, "is that t'Chk doesn't know what he's doin'. He's feelin' tough enough to act against Thane, which is a pretty big deal. But when Thane calls him and trips him up, the asshole goes nuclear instead of playin' it cool."

"Yeah! Sure," Seldon said, "but you're not exactly talking about a beacon of stability here. He's frakking nuts under the best of circumstances."

Eri was watching Lucifer. He pursed his lips and seemed to be thinking about it. Not knowing either man Eri guessed that he couldn't really appreciate just how bold an attack on the Yaki dockmaster really was.

"No," Drakhar answered Seldon, "he's not. But... well, you've seen him. Normally he's barkin' mad but this past week he's..."

"Been rabid, yeah," she finished for him.

"So what's the plan?" Eri asked.

Drakhar turned her way, after a moment he huffed a heavy sigh. "Well, S'jar t'Chk's goal is to get a hold of the complex in Weaver's Tempest. That's the prize. That's what this has always been about. He recruited me. He supported me. He gave me safety and legitimized me with the Yaki by makin' me part of his clan... but it's always been a set up. And now he thinks he's got all the pieces lined up the way he wants 'em. But it can still blow up in his face. Whether he wants to acknowledge that or not he's feelin' it. That job he gave me tonight was not the act of a guy feelin' comfortable. So we give him the key to victory."

"Then shove it right down his throat," Master Guns Gisler grinned.

"What the hell does that mean?" Seldon demanded while Eri asked, "What is the key to victory?!"

"Me," Drakhar stated. "If he can get his hands on me," Drakhar explained, "then he's got everythin'. My fleet won't fire on him so long as he's holdin' me hostage..."

"HA!" Ea't barked and Drakhar blinked in surprise, utterly taken aback. He stared at Ea't with an expression that was complete shock seasoned with a little bit of hurt. Almost despite herself Eri smirked.

"Yeeah," Drakhar growled while looking at Ea't with slightly wild eyes, "it's nice to know you care, bud."

Ea't bared his teeth in one of those horrible Split grimaces and bowed his head in the serkavi. "Of course, Huruk'tar! S'jar t'Chk will rue the day he makes such a mistake!"

"I'm startin' to think I might as well," Drakhar muttered.

"I'm not seein' how giving t'Chk the 'key to his victory' over us is a good thing, Drake!" Seldon barked at him.

Drakhar simply nodded and swept the room with his eyes. "We need t'Chk to think that he's won," he explained. "He NEEDS to believe that. He's made an enemy of the Yaki dockmaster! So he either wins or he is frakked!" Drakhar shrugged. "So we let him. I'm gonna call him when we're done here and," the man adopted a simpering expression and spoke with a slight whine, "ask him why he's been so mean to me lately." There were several snorts from around the room. Beside him the grizzled old marine looked at him sideways, but continued smirking. Drakhar looked back to Seldon. "I'm gonna make that son of bitch believe that, as far as I know, he's just angry at me because of the nividium, and then I'll ask him how I can make it right. That'll give him the opportunity to summon me to his ship..."

"How do you know he'll do that?" Lucifer asked.

Drakhar looked up at the commandant. "It's the way the Yaki do things. It's like the Yaki makin' their subordinates pay them tribute. It's just the way things are. Like, I know that part of this will involve him demandin' money. He'll need to keep up the charade and those are his steps to the dance. He'll also demand an 'Act of Contrition'."

"What exactly is an 'Act of Contrition'?" Lucifer asked.

"Yaki culture is very heirarchal. It's a society based on dominance."

"Society!" Seldon scoffed.

"Society not civilization," Eri said softly.

"The act of contrition," Drakhar went on, "is a means for the leaders to show their dominance over a subordinate who offended them. It's used in cases where forgiveness and reconcilliation is still possible."

"So...?" Lucifer prodded.

"Usually it involves humiliation," Drakhar told him. "The big-shot gets to lord it over whoever pissed 'em off by gettin' 'em to do somethin' embarassin' in public. I'm bettin' that t'Chk will take the opportunity to summon me to his ship."

"And how is that a good thing?!" Seldon demanded.

Drakhar glanced at her and chuckled. "Nice to know you care, mom." Seldon shook her head then glared at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Eri suspected she was on the verge of laying hands on the man. Drakhar apparently did too. He held up both hands in the same calming gesture he'd aimed at Eri earlier. "Easy," he said. "We want this."

"We what, now?" Seldon replied incredulously.

Drakhar nodded. "Everything we need is on that ship," he said. "S'jar t'Chk. All of his 'evidence'. Everything."

"Along with most of his clan! What the hell are planning? You just gonna waltz on over there and ask him to give it to you?!"

"No," Drakhar shook his head. "Not exactly."

"Drake," Lucifer interjected. "I'm still not clear on how you know he'll summon you."

Drakhar looked up at Lucifer. "The idea is to present t'Chk with an opportunity he can't afford to pass up. Once I'm on his ship he's won. I'll be his prisoner," he glanced at Ea't, "most of my fleet won't shoot at him while he's got hold of me, and he'll be able to present me to the council as a problem that's already been solved. Which means no messy transition where things like ships and stations," he shrugged, "explode. He'll be able to torture me for information, get security codes to ships and complexes," he shrugged. "I'm the means to a complete victory."

Seldon shook her hands at the kid. "But why the hell would you do that?! What's the upside to just walking into his... his...?"

"Clutches," Eri provided.

"Yeah!" Seldon barked emphatically and glared at Drakhar. "Why the hell would you do that?!"

Drakhar held her eye. "Because," he said, "I'm gonna insist on bringin' a bodyguard. I'll aim for as many as possible and I'm guessin' that I'll be able to get away with at least four, maybe even as many as ten. T'Chk'll probably insist on no grenades or heavy weapons. He might even insist that my guards come unarmored and we'll be scanned for hackin' equipment and plasma cutters. But," he glanced at H'nt then looked back at her with a grim smile, "H'nt's got some ways to even the odds..."

Seldon's face went slack as understanding hit her. "Holy shit," she whispered.

"Once we're on board," Drakhar concluded, "we're gonna..."

"You're gonna take the Brimstone," Seldon said.

Drakhar grinned. "We are gonna kill that motherfrakker," he said. "Then we're gonna take his ship. And with the ship we'll take possession of all that 'evidence' that he's been puttin' together to use against us. Then we get to tell the rest of the Yaki any damned story we want."

For a moment the compartment was dead silent but for the quiet hum of the machinery and the soft hiss of the air exchangers. Then Drakhar shrugged. "If all goes well..."

"Cos that always happens," Eri interjected bitingly.

Drakhar glanced at her. "...we should be able to get it all done without a single ship firin' a shot. Then, once it's all over..."

Seldon shook her head. "Hold on! Hold on! Hold on! Let me get this straight," she said, and Eri saw that she was dividing her outrage between Drake, Gisler, and Kao t'Kt, "you're telling me," she said dangerously, that you intend to take the Brimstone, S'jar t'Chk's FLAGSHIP, with four... unarmed... marines?"

Drakhar's expression became coy. "He should let us keep our sidearms," he said with a smirk.

Seldon blinked, then turned to Eri.

"Don't look at me," Eri told her. "This is your wheelhouse."

Seldon shook her head, then turned back to Drakhar, H'nt c'Pu, and, finally, to Master Guns Gisler... who winked at her. "You're on board with this?" she demanded of the other marine.

"Chief," Gisler replied, "I think this is gonna be this best party we ever threw."

Seldon narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and thrust her jaw toward the other marine. She wasn't happy. After a moment she turned to look at Kao t'Kt, who was watching her from across the compartment. For a moment the two simply stared at each other. Then the massive Split nodded, just once and ever so slightly. Seldon exhaled hard. Then she met Drakhar's eye. "Alright," she said, as if losing an argument she hadn't wanted in the first place. "So what's the plan?"

Drakhar told her. As he did Eri listened, once again wondering who the hell this young man really was. The plan was incredibly risky. It would require subtlety, tact, a great deal of deception, and very precise timing to pull off, and that's if everything went right, which wasn't likely. They would be relying on a great deal of unproven tech. But it was also genius. It was simple, even elegant, and for a few moments she thought it might even be possible to pull it off. Then Ea't spoke up.

"Mighty Split Warrior," the Split announced, "will accompany Huruk'tar!"

"Say WHAT?!" Drakhar blinked, instantly losing his composure. He stared at his commander with a gaping mouth.

"Mighty Split Warrior," Ea't said again, "will accompany Huruk'tar!"

"Uhm... but I need you on the Osan'gar, bud," Drakhar told him, and Eri thought he was starting to look a little wild in the eyes, like a horse about to bolt.

"Mighty. Split. Warrior," Ea't stated firmly, "Coming! With! Huruk'tar!"

Drakhar held up both hands in the same calming gesture he'd aimed at both Eri and Seldon earlier. "Uhh... can I ask why?"

"S'jar t'Chk have debt!" Ea't said cheerfully and bared his teeth in that strange, upside down Split grin. "Last chance collect."

********

Right. So everyone is on board and up to speed... err... sort of. Ea't has decided to come with us to the Brimstone. This feels a little like throwin' a grenade into snake charmin' contest but I wasn't able to talk him out of it. And yeah, I did try. I tried quite a bit. I tried until H'nt took my arm, made me look him in the eye and shook his head. 'Don't bother.' So then I started askin' questions. Turns out Ea't and S'jar t'Chk have history. I couldn't get many details out of either brother. H'nt claims not to know and Ea't just told me that t'Chk has a debt that he intends to collect, given that this is his last chance to do so.

Repeatedly.

You know, arguin' with Ea't is a bit like tryin' to talk a mountain into gettin' up and tip-toein' over to the other side of a valley. You can talk all you want at the mountain but it just ain't gonna move. Well, Ea't's a bit like that, only he does move, and... err... occasionally kills people. If it was anybody else I'd just order him to do what I bloody well told him to. But this is Ea't, and I don't dare do that for the same frakkin' reason that I don't want him on this goddamn mission in the first place. Namely: I don't know what the hell he's gonna do!

But, at the very least, he's on our side? I think. So I'm just thinkin' of him as the wild card. The very... wild... card.

Frak me.

Well, I think it's about time for me to give S'jar t'Chk a call and "ask him for his forgiveness." With any luck he'll believe that I don't know anything and will simply invite me and some friends aboard his ship.

Holy crap. Every possible way this can go wrong is runnin' through my mind. T'Chk might already know that I've spoken with Thane. He might suspect that I know who was aboard that centaur, or found out after we boarded. H'nt's toys might not work the way they're supposed to. Heh. Yeah. I'm gettin' some good use out of the side arm fabrication facilities I built in Savage Spur. We were able to simply send them some new designs and half a stazura (2 hours) later we've got some new kit to play with. Some new untested, unproven kit that my marines are gettin' familiar with as we speak. And then, of course, there's Ea't.

...

Yeah.

Right. Well, I suppose I better give the psychopath I work for a call and see who ends up betrayin' who.

First, though, I think I'm gonna need a drink.

********

Continued...

[Scion Drakhar]

...continued.

S'jar t'Chk was reclining in a very expensive chair. The chair was adaptively form fitting, upholstered in gleaming white faux leather and worth nearly twelve thousand credits, or the yearly rent on a fairly good condo in downtown Argon City. It was also covered in semen, vaginal excretions, some anal excretions, saliva, and a fair amount of blood. He'd entertained himself for an afternoon once by getting high and studying the thing inch by inch with a black light. Now he reclined on it's padded surface and cleaned his fingernails with a perfectly balanced throwing knife while staring at a holographic wall of information laid out before him.

It was a flow chart showing all of the Yaki clans, their leaders, their most important subordinates, and notes regarding whether or not they currently had reason to hate Drakey boy or not. In short, a flow chart of who he expected to vote his way and who would be a pain in the ass to be dealt with in due time. He was sure he had the majority, or would have. All it would require was for him to present the "evidence" in just the right light, with the right spin, and they would go along with it. They'd have to. Drakhar was his vassal, after all. Which meant that, according to the law, the boy was his to do with as he liked. It was simply the complexes that were an issue. Abmanckusset would attempt to wrest control of the weapon complex away from t'Chk, and held a great deal of sway with both the Paranid and Split clans. So S'jar t'Chk would have to present the boy as a problem solved, with compensation already either delivered or ready to be agreed on when it came before the council. He had every right to cannibalize the boy, every right to seize his assets. But, more importantly, he'd left nothing to chance.

S'jar t'Chk felt his lips peel backward, sliding across the skin of his teeth until he felt the cool air between them. His left hand rested on the swelling member in his crotch. His thumb idly caressed the sensitive bit of flesh just below the head of his penis. It was always this way. The slow, throbbing thrill of moving all the seemingly unrelated bits of his plan into place, with the marks never realizing they were about to get bent over and frakked... sans lube, of course.

He giggled as his eyes moved from Drake's image and assets, to Thane, to Gorda, to the encircling enemies S'jar t'Chk had arranged for them all. It was amazing how many of the other clan leaders resented Thane's lordship over the shipyard. He was the conduit for the lion's share of wealth entering the clans, and took more than his fair share. Season that resentment with a few promises, an offer of substantial reward, and it was easy to direct the anger at his targets, to set up walls of resistance the target never even considered until the trap was sprung and their fates sealed.

He loved that moment. In the instant when they became aware of their new realities, when the situation came crashing home in undeniable and inescapable finality, when they realized just how completely they'd been had, how brilliantly they'd been outmaneuvered, and how hopeless their situation really was... the changes in their demeanors was always fascinating. Arrogant men who'd thought their lordship over their companies absolute had dropped to their knees and begged him not to do destroy their life's work. Some pleaded. Some begged. Several cursed him and promised vengeance. Women tended to either curse and spit on him or attempt to seduce him. He'd even let several, although nothing they did ever let them keep their companies. And all of that was a game that was more or less civil. A game of laws, where the government of the Federation and the Trade commissions had worked in his favor, albeit usually with sour expressions and utter contempt in their eyes. But so what?! He was the winner and they were either tools or losers. So who cared what they thought?! They did what they did because they had to and their feelings on the matter were just seasoning for the victory hearts he'd gotten to feast upon... figuratively when he'd worn a suit and tie, now occasionally literally since becoming a Yaki warlord, usually accompanied by the war drums and screaming adulation of his clan.

S'jar t'Chk laughed. He'd had to evolve hadn't he? Playing pirate in waters where the sharks had no teeth was like watching a porno instead of having sex. Many of the sights and sounds were the same but no matter what you did it just wasn't as much fun. Out here, though? Out here it was TONS of fun. For instance, nobody screamed or looked at him sideways when he mentioned that he killed people. No one raised much of a fuss over a dead body or two... or a couple thousand, so long as someone could find a use for the mess, and it was rather amazing what the Split would eat. So, after getting himself in trouble for murdering one annoying underling... and his wife and kids... who was born with a conscience and also had the number to the investigative branch of the Argon trade commission, S'jar t'Chk, then Arthur Ramsey, had decided to make himself scarce back in Argon space for awhile and made for the wide open horizons of deep space. Now he was a Yaki warlord. Funny how things turned out, eh?

The game was much more fun out here. It was a more challenging to play with ruthless, occasionally psychotic warlords than it was to crush the hopes and dreams of a guy who thought power was the ability to hire and fire people, but it was also so much more rewarding. In the beginning he'd worked his way through the ranks of the Se'tjak clan until finally arranging a mutiny against the reigning clan leader of the time. It hadn't been hard, of course. A whisper here, a suggestion there, a sly comment to get the ball rolling and pretty soon the rest of the clan was ready to peel old Sai t'Nnt's face off without any of his help. After two more Clan Leaders met similar fates someone finally suggested Ramsey, who by then had transformed into S'jar t'Chk, oddly enough an appellation given to him by Sai t'Nnt. It meant 'honored madman'. The Split apparently revered insanity as the mouth of wisdom. Although they also tended to keep such creatures chained up in dungeons until their lords needed the insight their madness could provide. But what was a detail or two, anyway? Soon, after he'd finally taken the boy's ships and stations, and enslaved his people, he would be one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, with the ability to direct the Yaki to do his bidding. At that point who the hell cared what other people thought of him? He'd be a threat to both the Argon Federation and Paranid Empire, both of which were in easy striking distance and both would likely be rife with opportunities to ply his skills. Extortion, manipulation, and ultimately the take over of ships, stations, and political influence. All he needed the boy had provided.

S'jar t'Chk laughed. It was all coming along so well, better than he'd ever expected. He'd been sure that the boy would create the weapons complex, a great, beautiful factory of all sorts of weapons and implements of mass destruction, to replace the one he'd lost in Avarice. But the boy hadn't stopped there. He'd built two more stations in Savage Spur. The first would make him a GOD to the Se'tjak clan; an endless supply of party favors to keep them all his adoring fans. But the OTHER?! The computer had spit out numbers that S'jar t'Chk could scarcely believe. Yet after multiple inquiries through multiple systems the results were invariably spectacular. And the NIVIDIUM!! If he was able to gain access to THAT then Thane himself would be putty in his hands.

THANE!

The thought of Thane made him clench. That hulking, bearded ox kept intruding on his thoughts. Those questioning, ACCUSING eyes staring at him! STARING at him! Why had he spoken?! He'd given so much away!!

"Stupid! STUPID! STUPID!"

The heel of his hand made a meaty sound against his forehead but the pain was sweet. He took a breath through his mouth and let it out slowly. He could feel the air on his teeth, cold on the way in, hot on the way out. It would be all right. A third of the clans had already agreed to an alliance to help him destroy the boy if it became necessary. Rudilis, of course. She was still angry over what Drake had done to Huritas. Well, not really ANGRY, but definitely engorged with self-righteousness, which was very much a drug in it's own right, and if it was a drug then Rudilis was an addict. He understood. It felt GOOD to be right. It felt GOOD to point the finger and condemn your enemy while everyone was looking on and agreeing with you! To feel the POWER of being RIGHT! Of being JUST! Even when you were full of shit.

S'jar t'Chk giggled.

Perhaps even especially when you were full of shit. And Rudilis was! She WAS! She wanted the boy hung up on one of those horrid Teladi totem things they had, then burned and skinned alive, which S'jar t'Chk thought funny. But she'd brought all the other Teladi clans with her so what did he care? He'd give her the fool after he got what he wanted. It might even be fun to watch the show. Of course he did suspect that she was still taking orders from the old hag, but what did that matter? Huritas could never overthrow the clans now. She could still make mischief but what did he care? Once he had the boy's factories, once he had the torpedoes and the missiles and the weapons... not to mention all the money from the complexes in Savage Spur! Then Huritas wouldn't be able to touch him.

There was still much to do, of course. The next step was to warn the council about the "rogue pirate" in their midst, but after that... or maybe right before it... he'd need to secure the boy. He had to throw the floppy haired little git into a dungeon so that he couldn't make trouble. The next few days would be eventful, and could be troublesome if things went wrong. But they shouldn't. They really shouldn't. He'd made his plans and played his part. He just had to get Drake aboard his ship. He HAD to! Once that was done it was already over. It would just be a matter of convincing the council, which he could do. He knew he could. Then... THEN! Then he would have it all!

S'jar t'Chk's eyes went wide and round. He gasped as if he'd just been touched by a lover. Just the thought of all that power was enough to make his male member swell and stiffen as his head got airy and light. How could the boy not KNOW how much power he had?! Thane knew. S'jar t'Chk had seen it in his eyes right before he'd started screaming at the man.

OH!

The thought of Thane made him clench again. He heard the bitter crunch as he ground his teeth together. If only he hadn't told Thane what he was doing! It was so...

"Stupid! STUPID! STUPID!"

He swooned a little before realizing he'd just punched himself in the head with both fists. Thane was going to be a problem. It was in his eyes. Those steady, accusing eyes the color of dying moss, green in the middle and brown and dying around the edges. Why had he told him? Why had he let it all out?! After months and months of work and preparation he'd just blurted out his plans to a man who now had a vested interest in keeping the boy around and might even be smart enough to KNOW that if S'jar t'Chk got a hold of those nukes then the balance of power in the Yaki would shift, and shift dramatically when it did.

"Shit!" he hissed. "That was so STUPID!"

S'jar t'Chk wondered if Thane would laugh or cry at the news of his son's death. You never could tell. Most people cried. Some did nothing... at least for awhile; until you shook them up like a soda bottle and then they blew their tops and anything could happen. But sometimes instead of crying people would just start to laugh. S'jar t'Chk always found that fascinating; when pain produced laughter.

Would Thane laugh?

Probably not. Thane just wasn't very much fun. Or interesting.

But he was a problem. A BIG problem. S'jar t'Chk shook his head. "The boy," he told himself. "The boy is the key. Get the boy and even Thane won't matter." Of course that was the best part, wasn't it? All he had to do was order the fool to come to him.

'But will he do it?' he wondered.

'He HAS to!' he answered himself.

'He doesn't.'

'He DOES!'

'Well then, I suppose you better get on with it. Only one way to find out, after all.'

"But am I missing something?" he asked the empty room. "I feel like I'm missing something. What am I missing?"

Suddenly the intercom chirped. S'jar t'Chk checked the icons on his screen. His communications minion had named the call before routing it to his master. "DRaKey bOY," it read. S'jar t'Chk grinned, wondering if the child was about to give him another show. The boy was very pleasing to the eyes. S'jar t'Chk hadn't realized just how pretty the lad was until he'd seen him without a shirt. All that smooth skin stretched taut over rippling muscles. It made him want to draw on it with something sharp and pointy. He wondered what little Drake would sound like as he peeled the skin off those pretty little muscles. Would he scream full-throated and from the belly, or would he shriek like the little piggy S'jar t'Chk knew him to be? Either way, he thought it would be fun to find out.

With that thought in mind, S'jar t'Chk accepted the call. An instant later Drake's image flickered to life, replacing the wall of information he'd been looking at. The instant he saw the boy, S'jar t'Chk began to smile. The boy was wearing clothes but to S'jar t'Chk he still looked naked. He thought he could see the fear in the fool's eyes, reaching out to tickle and scratch at the boy's mind and soul, draining vitality and purpose with doubt and the slow onset of that soul-crushing weariness that was fear's greatest 'gift'. A moment later S'jar t'Chk decided that the boy hadn't slept. He was clean and straight, but there was the sense of harried exhaustion about him. Did the little piggy sense that he was about to get eaten?

"Drake," S'jar t'Chk crooned. "And here I was hoping for another show." He let lust drip from every word. The boy's eyes narrowed angrily. S'jar t'Chk felt his teeth peel back over his teeth. He always had liked to play with his food. The thought made him laugh.

"Just let me know when you're done," Drakhar growled.

"Ooooh," S'jar t'Chk purred, "so fierce!" He laughed. "Soooo proud." He switched gears. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

"I want to know what the hell's been going on with you lately," Drakhar growled with bared teeth. "I want to know what's happened to change our arrangement. Why are you callin' me out in front of your crew? Why are pissin' all over my people? And why the hell are you callin' me up in the middle of the night to give me orders I can't refuse?"

"Because, dear boy," S'jar t'Chk purred and reached out to the hologram as if he could touch the man through it, "I can."

"When I joined your clan we agreed that you would never do any of that!" Drakhar was practically fuming.

"Did we?" S'jar t'Chk leaned toward the camera.

"Yes," Drakhar snarled at him. "We did. You," he pointed at the screen, "gave me your word."

"Did I?!" S'jar t'Chk laughed.

"You did."

"Well that doesn't sound like me at all," he gasped as if a thought had just occurred to him and held up a finger as if pointing to the light bulb over his head. "UNLESS!" he grinned, leaning in even closer to the camera, "I was lying." These last words were delivered as a whisper, soft as a velvet caress. S'jar t'Chk's face adopted a sad, pitying expression. "And you, you poor thing, you believed me didn't you?"

"What's it going to take for you to back off, t'Chk?" Drakhar growled at him. "I can't do business..."

"MONEY!!" S'jar t'Chk roared. "How much is that nividium deal with Thane worth, Drakhar?" he snarled. "How much money have you been earning because you are Yaki? HOW MUCH?!"

The boy's eyes narrowed. "So that's what this is about?"

"No!" S'jar t'Chk snarled at him. "I just don't like your haircut. Of COURSE that's what this is about, you twit! YOU CUT ME OUT OF A HUNDRED MILLION CREDITS A DAY!!!" The boy stared at him through eyes narrowed to slits. S'jar t'Chk lifted his chin and reclined in his chair. "I want HALF," he stated.

Drakhar glared at him for a moment. "I'll give you ten percent," he countered.

"You'll 'GIVE ME' nothing!" S'jar t'Chk bellowed, "you will surrender my rightful tribute and you'll do it RIGHT BLOODY NOW!!"

The kid stuck a cigar between his teeth and waited.

"Half," S'jar t'Chk told him. "AND an act of contrition for your impertinence."

"Ten percent," Drakhar countered, "and I'll consider your act of contrition once I know what it entails."

"YOU INSOLENT LITTLE SHIT!" S'jar t'Chk raged at the screen. Drakhar puffed on his cigar and thrust his chin at S'jar t'Chk. 'Well,' S'jar t'Chk thought, 'no wonder he annoyed the Split. He's even more obstinate than they are.' "Fine," he hissed. "Forty five percent and the act of contrition… and that's me being generous!"

The boy's jaw flexed. He took another puff from his cigar and then took a sip from a glass of whiskey. Then he met S'jar t'Chk's eyes again. "Twelve and half percent, and I'll agree to this 'act of whatever' once I know what it means."

"IT MEANS YOU GET YOUR SKINNY ASS OVER HERE AND SUCK MY DICK, YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!" A moment later S'jar t'Chk realized that he'd stood up so quickly that he'd knocked his chair over.

"Kiss my ass," Drakhar told him.

"You don't seem to understand how this is supposed to work, Drake," S'jar t'Chk said, as if they were just two mates at a bar and he was explaining something to his drunk friend.

"I understand that you gave me your word and now you're sittin' there laughin' about breakin' it." Drakhar told him. "Now you want somethin' from me and I'm supposed to be so scared of you that I just drop to my knees and let you have whatever you want?"

"YES!!!"

"Well, I'm not," Drakhar told him. "And if you want to go to war with me t'Chk you might want to consider how many nukes I have at my disposal. I'll give you fifteen percent and I will consider this act of pretense once I know what you're plannin'. And motherfrakker?" It was Drakhar's turn to lean toward the camera. "That's me bein' generous." With that Drakhar leaned back into his chair and took another puff from his cigar without ever breaking eye contact.

"Huh," S'jar t'Chk had to admit, if only to himself, that he was impressed. "Okay Drake," he said with a smile. He took a breath and watched the other man watching him. "Okay," he said again, "it seems I may have underestimated you."

"Yeah," Drakhar bared his teeth around his cigar. "I get that a lot."

"Yes," S'jar t'Chk said musingly. "I imagine you do. Alrighty, Drakey," he felt his grin restoring itself on his face. He felt the cool air on his teeth. "Thirty five percent and you get your ass over here and convince my clan that you're sorry for your transgressions. Then we can put this sorry business behind us and get back to making money..."

"Twenty percent," Drakhar replied, "and exactly how do you expect me to convince your clan of a damn thing?"

"BY SAYING YOU'RE SORRY AND MEANING IT!!!" S'jar t'chk roared. "You OBSTINATE, STUBBORN, little SHIT!!" It occurred to him that he was losing control. Their conversation was meaningless. The percentage points they were haggling over were irrelevant. None of them actually mattered. All he had to do was trick the boy into stepping onto the Brimstone, then the final trap could be sprung. Yet... the boy's insolence was maddening! Haggling with him! Disputing a command from his clan leader! What gave him the idea that he could get away with such behavior?!

'Well, he does have a great many nuclear torpedoes,' the indifferent part of his mind suggested.

'Aye,' he thought in reply, 'he does. But he won't use them. The first shot would turn every single Yaki against him. That would cost him his factories, his safe harbor, his nividium trade with Thane... and likely a few ships. Every single Yaki ship in the universe would be after him... and he doesn't have THAT many nukes.'

'He's got enough to obliterate US, though, doesn't he?'

S'jar t'Chk blinked. Would the boy really fight instead of surrendering? How had he not considered that before? 'Because it's inconceivable!' answered a shout from the darkest parts of his mind. 'He can't DO that! He HAS to surrender! He HAS TO!!'

'No,' he thought, 'he doesn't. But I think I can get him to agree to it... accidentally.'

Drakhar simply watched him from the holographic wall. As t'Chk met his eye the boy took another puff from his cigar. Once aboard the Brimstone the boy was doomed. All S'jar t'Chk had to do was get him here. But he was sly, this one, wasn't he?

"Alright, Drakhar," S'jar t'Chk said. "You will come to my ship. You will publicly take a knee before me, where my entire clan can see you, and you will list your own crimes. Then I will publicly forgive you. I'll have my people prepare a script for you..."

"And send it to me for review," Drakhar interjected.

"You seem to forget that I am your clan leader, Drakhar!" S'jar t'Chk snarled.

"You're a lying asshole, S'jar t'Chk," the boy told him, "and very soon we will be revisiting the nature of our relationship."

S'jar t'Chk bared his teeth furiously. 'Indeed we will, boy,' he thought. 'Indeed we will.' "Be that as it may, Drake, if you don't obey me right now I will have you exiled." S'jar t'Chk leaned toward the screen. He was no longer laughing or smiling. Drakhar had ruined his mood and S'jar t'Chk found it hard not to imagine the little shit being skinned alive, one tiny strip of flesh at a time. "Do you know what happens to exiles, Drake?"

"No," the boy said belligerently, "tell me."

"Every Yaki in the galaxy will consider you an enemy. Your complexes will be seized or destroyed. Your ships will be boarded or destroyed. Your people will be enslaved, and I will personally look into the 'care and treatment' of your favorites. Would you like that? I think I would."

Drakhar's eyes narrowed even further. The very beginning of crow's feet were visible at the corners of his eyes. 'Leadership is aging you, boy. Don't worry,' S'jar t'Chk thought and had to stifle a giggle, 'your troubles will be over soon.'

"Twenty five percent," the boy offered, "and send over the damned script."

"Thirty," S'jar t'Chk countered and thrust a finger at the boy, "and don't frak with me, Drakhar. I'm out of patience. That's the best offer you're going to get. I will expect you this evening by no later than eighteen hundred." With that S'jar t'Chk cut the comm channel. Then he took a deep, steadying breath.

Something was wrong. He didn't know what it was but it was making it hard to breathe. It was the boy, he realized. He'd been overlooking the boy himself; the boy who'd laid waste to Depths of Silence just to steal a few ships; the boy who'd essentially gone to war with the Split; the boy who'd jumped right into Terran space and kicked them straight in the teeth before stealing their most terrible ship. Of course the boy would be troublesome. But it wouldn't matter. All he needed to do was get Drakhar aboard the Brimstone. He wouldn't be able to take off again without clearance from the Brimstone. He wouldn't be able to beam off. Which meant that, once aboard, that pretty little shit would belong to him. After that everything else would fall into place.

"Will you walk into my parlour?" S'jar t'Chk whispered. "Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy..."

[Triaxx2]

Someone, is in for a bad day. The only question? Who.

Yeah, probably not Ea't. Fox in the hen house and all that.

[Tohron]

Great new chapter! Looking forward to the next installment!

[Zaitsev]

I think I just gave my neighbors further proof of my insanity when I read about Ea't's ... entrance into the CIC. For some odd reasons I got very vivid mental images of an insanely infuriated Split, roaring from the top of his lungs at someone who responded in a matter-of-fact tone that suggested they were discussing what (or in Ea't's case, who) they were going to have for dinner.

Also, I somewhat regret eating when I started the third part ...

All in all a great chapter, and this is one of the times where I wish I could fast-forward time so I could read the next chapter right away. But hey, patience is a virtue.

[Nathancros]

Grrrrrrr. im not sure this counts as a cliffhanger

BUT GODDAMN you've left me hanging again!

Grrrrrrrr

Wonder how Ea't would deal with cliffhangers..

[Triaxx2]

Split say: Best to stomp on fingers so not come back.

[Scion Drakhar]

Grrrrrrr. im not sure this counts as a cliffhanger

BUT GODDAMN you've left me hanging again!

Sorry Bud.
Nature of the beast, I'm afraid. On the upside you may take comfort in the knowledge that I am also looking forward to the next chapter.

Quick addendum; Once again I cannot take complete credit for the writing. Nyito has been contributing much more than just editing and feedback. Her suggestions have very much shaped the story for some time now. The scene where Ea't is entering the CIC is a perfect example. That's not the way I first wrote it. I'm afraid the original scene was rather boring and she suggested the alternative. So the way it unfolds was a direct result of her input and suggestions. Which is good, right? Cos it really is better this way. I liked it and even Triaxx approved. Although he does tell me that Doc Compton may have opened a can of worms.

Anyhoo, thanks to all of you for continuing to read and continuing to tell me you're reading. I once again confess to being a glutton for the praise.

Cheers

[Nathancros]

Well take my praise, my adoration, my addiction

AND MY RAGE FOR THE CLIFFHANGERS

aha I'm kidding of course about that last bit.

Your work gets better and better!

[Olterin]

Not sure if cliffhanger *squints*.

Also, I'm not convinced by Sjar T'Chk.... or whatshisname I mean, after a conversation like that, no matter how big a madman he is, he should be revisiting his plans. He has planned it all up until now, and he slipped up. He's smart enough to scheme and plot this thoroughly, so in my eyes he's also smart enough to realize he needs to adjust his plans, yesterday.

... Random musings. He's probably just sufficiently mad to not care enough. Looking forward to the next chapter.

[Tohron]

Hope things are going okay on the next chapter Scion! Looking forward to getting that cliffhanger resolved.

[Scion Drakhar]

Aye. I had some medication issues for about 8 weeks. During that time I didn't get much done. But the issues have been resolved and I'm working on the next chapter. It's likely to be a big one, though, so I may need a few more weeks.

:: The Author takes cover ::

[LouisR]

No need to hide out; I expect the only thing most of us will be throwing your way is praise.

Thanks for a couple of years of entertainment and a nice role model... err in the X universe anyhow!

[Scion Drakhar]

I do so love contributing to your corruption. "Embrace the Dark Side!"

[Zaitsev]

"Embrace the Dark Side!"

They got the bestest cookies!

[Nathancros]

Lets face it, at this point, we are all so corrupted by your endless piracy, if you asked for a crew to sail a pirate ship, we'd all show with pirate hats, swords and rum.

[Scion Drakhar]

ROFL!

I just had this vision of a bunch of swarthy, gapped-tooth pirates with swords, rum, broad hats... and cookies.

[Triaxx2]

Split have old family recipe. Must wrestle away from grand mother.

[Zaitsev]

Split have old family recipe. Must wrestle away from grand mother.

I don't know if it was intentional or just a typo, but "grand mother" gave me these weird mental images of a large, apron-clad female split guarding the family recipes, armed with a gargantuan rolling pin.